Page 5 of Autumn at the Oak Leaf Café
‘Quite, quite.’
Amy actually gave a little clap. ‘He’s going to be great. Everyone likes him.’
The world really had turned, unless Amy lived in some kind of alternate reality. Madeline turned to her and said, ‘It’ll be nice showing up in a Bimmer every day, won’t it?’
Before Amy could answer, Rick said, ‘Oh, no, Amy will still be going to work in her Golf. It wouldn’t do for the children to know that two of the staff are involved with each other.’
‘It wouldn’t do,’ Amy said, sounding disappointed.
Madeline was just preparing another dig, when Jonas clapped his hands together. ‘Right, let’s get the food out, shall we?’
That she managed to avoid having a full-blown argument with Rick over the next two hours either proved they were both maturing, or that she had finally learned how to bite her tongue where her brother was concerned. Still, when Rick announced that he and Amy ought to leave because he began training for his promotion in the morning, Madeline wasn’t sad to see him go. He had spent all evening ribbing her about being currently unemployed, suggesting all manner of alternative short-term jobs from “one of those grubbers outside the train station trying to sign you up for a charity” to “that guy who walks behind the rubbish lorry picking up all the bits that fall out”. With Dad’s eyes warning her to keep on her best behaviour, she had refused to let him rile her, even when he’d suggested that in his new position he might be able to wrangle her a part time janitorial position at Brentwell Secondary.
Throughout, Amy watched Rick with utter adulation, hanging off every word when she wasn’t adjusting the straightness of the placemats and cutlery. By the time they left, Madeline—who had drunk a little more wine than either Amy or Jonas, while Rick, who was driving, had maintained that condescending look that sober people loved to use when in the company of tipsy people—was starting to feel a little pining for a taste of true love. Having had her youthful optimism ruined by Rory, she had gone out into the world hoping to find it, but despite a couple of short-term relationships, the real thing had managed to elude her.
‘Right, I’m off to bed,’ Jonas announced, shortly after Rick and Amy had left.
‘I’m just going to watch a bit of TV,’ Madeline told him.
He gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ he said. ‘I’ve never known you to have such powers of restraint. My little girl really has grown up.’
‘I’m unemployed, Dad,’ she said.
Jonas laughed. ‘So am I. You don’t hear me complaining, do you?’
‘You’re retired. That’s different.’
‘You might be unemployed right now, but you’ve already done things in your life that most people can only dream about. Remember that when you next go looking for work. Don’t sell yourself short. Bits of paper with letters and numbers on them are worth nothing. Experience … that’s priceless. Set your bar a little higher.’
Madeline felt a sudden burning love for her father. She pulled him into a tight hug.
‘Why are you so wise?’
Jonas shrugged. ‘I’m a dad. That’s my real job.’
4
The Secretary Problem
The next day,Madeline headed out early with a more determined attitude. She went to the Job Centre first to sign on, plucking up the courage to go inside, but most of the jobs they had available involved sitting at desks and pressing buttons. Before going overseas, Madeline had spent a year as a temp doing insurance claims for a delivery company, and it wasn’t something she was keen to repeat. She was referred to one part time job working at a wildlife centre in Birch Valley, but it was a thirty-minute train ride each way, and with a half-hour walk from Dad’s to the station, she’d spend almost as much time commuting as she would working.
She declined to put in an application, but planned to return the following day for another search.
Having spent most of the morning in the job centre, she decided to get some lunchor lunch. She headed up to Brentwell’s main shopping area, but her old favourite sandwich shop had closed down, replaced by an estate agent. She didn’t fancy anything out of a bakery, and the only new restaurant was far too expensive for her liking. She didn’t want to sit in a pub, so, running out of options, she figured she might as well head back to Dad’s.
She’d made a wide circuit of the town in her failed search for something decent to eat, and the quickest way back to Lock Keepers Lane was to cut through Sycamore Park, down by Brentwell Theatre. She had spent a lot of time in Sycamore Park during her teenage years, but not much since. Rory had liked to hang out there sometimes, and she had so far purposely avoided it through a wariness that it might stir up unwanted memories.
As the park’s northern entrance appeared up ahead, with the back of the Brentwell Public Library off to one side, she recognised the little building just past the gate, a handful of tables arranged outside, and a sudden wild thought came to mind.
Madeline had always found it easier to talk to people from foreign countries, particularly if it was in a pigeon version of their own language. It was like the language barrier created a screen that absorbed any potential awkwardness or embarrassment.
When it came to speaking to someone who understood every word, however, it was a whole different matter. Suddenly the words tumbled over themselves, refusing to cooperate.
With all this in mind, Madeline approached the door to the Oak Leaf Café with a lump of trepidation in her throat. Even before she reached the quaint wooden door with twisting roses growing out of two large pots on either side making a pretty green and red arch, she had lost the ability to speak. She stood there dumbly, looking at the latticed windows, their frames tainted with just enough age to be vintage rather than decrepit. She stared through the reflections of the giant sycamore trees in this corner of the park at the wood-paneled interior, at the tables designed for couples and small families, pots of salt and pepper, handwritten menus in ornate wire-framed holders. She saw the sign hanging in the window advertising for a temporary manager, but even as she continued to stare at it, her nerves got the better of her, and she was about to turn and flee when the door suddenly opened and a spritely middle-aged woman in an apron appeared. Long brown hair flecked with grey was tied back in a ponytail that swung over her shoulder. She pushed spectacles up her nose and smiled a youthful smile.
‘Hello, dear. You have the honour of being today’s first customer. That means you get a free slice of maple and pecan pie with whatever else you order. It’s a bit chilly, so why don’t you sit inside? Menu’s on the table.’ As Madeline continued to stare at her, the woman tilted her head. ‘Wow, are those dreadlocks? How cool. May I touch them?’
At mention of her hair, something sparked Madeline back into life. ‘Ah, no, they’re just plaits that have been that way for a very long time. Someone in Australia did them for me, and showed me a way to extend them without having to untie them. You have to get the ends and fold them back in up at the top, like this.’ She started to demonstrate, then stopped. ‘Ah, you probably don’t want to know.’
