Meet Me in Bendigo Read online

  ‘All sewn by hand,’ she said, relieved to push past the topic of her current situation, one Mel had very strong opinions on.

  ‘You coming on Saturday?’ Mel rearranged the tiny lounge room furniture as she spoke.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss Luna’s birthday party for the world. What can I bring?’

  ‘Absolutely nothing but yourself.’

  ‘I can’t come empty—’

  Mel held up a hand to stop her speaking. ‘Bring your chocolate tarts if you must insist on bringing anything at all.’

  ‘One tray of chocolate tarts coming up. Do you need a hand with decorations or party set-up?’

  ‘I have Garry’s delightful mother and aunt joining us to provide additional support in this stressful, but glorious, time.’ Mel closed her eyes as she spoke as if the effort of taking the high road was too much.

  ‘You’ll be grateful for them both come clean-up time. I’ll be over a little early anyway so I can play with Luna.’ Annalisa loved her goddaughter as if she were her own child. Those blonde curls and tiny rosebud lips got her every time.

  ‘So, back to the man.’ Mel propped her elbows on the countertop and put her chin in her hands.

  ‘What man?’ Annalisa frowned. ‘Do you want a bag to put the furniture in so it doesn’t slide all over the car on the way home?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’

  ‘Enough already.’ Annalisa let her shoulders slump under the pressure. ‘I’ll tell you if you promise not to go on about it.’

  ‘No can do.’ Mel popped another Malteser into her mouth.

  ‘Honest at least.’ She sighed. ‘Okay, so this guy DMed me a few months ago. He said he’d been following my post on the Goldfields community page and wanted to talk.’ The whole situation sounded a bit creepy when she said it out loud. She ducked her head, not willing to meet Mel’s eyes.

  ‘Hang on a minute. You’re telling me you have a stalker?’

  ‘No! He’s not like that. We started talking about the impact big business has on family stores like mine.’ She gestured to the surrounding shelves of hardware. ‘How big chain stores are running us out of business.’

  ‘And then you moved on to more personal things, right?’

  Annalisa shrugged. ‘We keep it light. No names or anything, that’s how casual it is.’

  ‘You don’t know his name?’ Mel crossed her arms and got that look on her face, the one that said you have got to be kidding me.

  ‘No, I do not know his real name. I don’t need to. He’s just a guy I chat to and you’ve got to admit, that’s a big step forward for me.’

  ‘Mmm …’ Mel regarded her with a sceptical expression. ‘I can’t argue with your logic although I really, really want to.’

  ‘The whole thing is harmless, I promise.’ She offered Mel what she hoped was her most reassuring smile. ‘He messages me about how much he hates his job and how his family drive him nuts, and I message him about the old guys and … not much else.’

  ‘I hope you’re not giving him personal information about you. He could be anyone.’ Mel looked alarmed. ‘He could be some guy in Ghana running a scam.’

  ‘Nigeria.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The old guys reckon it’s some guy in Nigeria pretending he’s a prince.’

  ‘Whatever. You be careful. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.’

  ‘I love it when you get all mummy with me,’ Annalisa teased.

  ‘I’m serious. What does Nonna have to say about all this?’

  ‘What does Nonna have to say about what?’ The door had opened to reveal Annalisa’s grandmother, a shopping bag in one hand and a baking dish covered with foil in the other.

  Mel cut a sideways look at Annalisa, and she knew by that look her friend was going to dob her in.

  ‘Annalisa is flirting with some guy online.’

  ‘I am not.’ Defending herself felt like a reflex action, and there was little heart in her protest.

  ‘Is this true, Annalisa?’ Nonna bent a little to place the baking dish on the counter before hefting up the plastic bag full of paperwork.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She nervously twisted her hair in a makeshift knot, which immediately fell apart. ‘I’m merely chatting with someone who shares the same views as I do regarding big business muscling out small holdings.’

  A look passed between Nonna and Mel.

  ‘Yeah right,’ said Mel as she picked up her scarf and wound it around her neck. ‘And I’m running for Prime Minister next election.’

  ‘At least she’s talking to a boy,’ Nonna said to Mel. ‘How long has it been since she even acknowledged men exist?’

  ‘Literally years.’ Mel shouldered her enormous handbag. ‘I guess we should be grateful for small mercies.’

  ‘Anything is better than nothing. I was worried she might become a virgin again, you know?’

  ‘Do we let her keep talking to this guy? Maybe monitor things a bit?’

  ‘I feel as if I have to worry for her on behalf of her mother and father as well as myself. I feel better if you keep an eye on her for me too.’

  ‘Hey, I’m standing right here.’ Annalisa waved her hands. ‘I have a good reason for not dating and I can monitor my own relationships, thank you very much.’

  ‘It is a relationship then?’ Mel raised her eyebrow in a perfect questioning arch.

  ‘I hate when you do that,’ she said.

  ‘Either way, we have work to do,’ said Nonna, checking her watch. ‘Are you about ready to close up for the day so we can go through the accounts? I brought cannelloni and wine to ease the pain.’

  ‘Sounds like a fun night ahead for you,’ said Mel as she positioned herself to pick up the doll house.

  ‘Do you need a hand with that?’ Annalisa said.

  ‘Get the door for me, would you?’ Mel peeked around the doll house, being too short to see over the top of it.

  Annalisa held the door open while Mel manoeuvred through it.

  ‘Bring your PJs,’ she said through the tiny kitchen window. ‘We can have a slumber party for the big girls after everyone goes home on Saturday.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ said Annalisa. ‘Can I help you get that thing in the car?’

  ‘Nope, I’m good. See you Saturday.’

  She watched as Mel got the doll house safely onto the back seat of the car before driving off with a wave. Annalisa locked the door and drew down the blinds. While the clock told her that there was still an hour to go until official closing time, the empty street confirmed there was no reason to stay open any longer today.

  ‘Come on, let’s get this over and done with.’ Nonna passed her the baking dish while she took the plastic bag.

  Annalisa turned off the lights in the store as she made her way through to the living quarters behind the shop.

  ‘So cold in here!’ Nonna shivered dramatically.

  ‘You lived here for decades. You remember how it gets in the afternoon.’ She flicked on the lights and the heater before depositing the cannelloni in the oven to warm.

  ‘I remember it being more cheery than this.’ Nonna took her place at the kitchen table, unpacking her bag full of files. ‘I used to keep the place filled with flowers and cushions. Maybe you should think about changing the curtains.’

  ‘Are you criticising my decorating skills?’ Annalisa looked around the small space, trying to see it as her grandmother must. She had to admit, the open-plan room looked more like student digs than a welcoming home.

  Nonna ignored her. ‘Bring the wine. We’ll have a glass before we begin.’

  ‘Things must be bad if we’re drinking before business.’ Annalisa took two emerald crystal wine glasses from the cupboard. She’d found them at a second-hand stall at the St Kilda markets years ago and they always cheered her up.

  ‘Well.’ Nonna cocked her head to one side in that gesture Annalisa had known since childhood. It wasn’t quite a shrug, nor was it a nod of the head. More a let
’s wait and see.

  Annalisa sat down heavily in one of her handpainted, mismatched chairs. After placing the wine glasses down before them, she unscrewed the bottle of shiraz Nonna had stashed in her plastic bag.

  Sloshing a generous slug of wine into each glass, she said, ‘You better let me have it then.’

  Nonna adjusted her glasses and opened a file. ‘You see this?’ She pointed to a column of figures. Annalisa nodded and took a fortifying gulp of wine.

  ‘Our takings two years ago when I retired.’ She opened another file. ‘See this one?’ Nonna stabbed at another column of figures as if their very presence offended her. ‘Last year.’

  Annalisa nodded. No prizes for guessing where this conversation was headed.

  Nonna picked up a red file and placed it on top of the others.

  ‘Why is this one red?’ Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. Red did not usually indicate great things … nasty rash, bad sunburn, Red Bull–vodka cocktail … mostly things that could hurt you.

  Nonna looked over the top of her glasses but said nothing. She opened the file and flicked through to find what she was looking for.

  ‘See here?’

  Annalisa sighed. ‘This year, right?’

  ‘Clever girl.’ Nonna slammed the file shut. ‘I don’t think I need to point out the obvious, do I?’

  She slumped back in her chair, defeated. Each of Nonna’s folders had a story to tell, one of diminishing sales and non-existent profits. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, squashing the tears that had sprung up of their own accord before Nonna could see them. Breaking down was not an option.

  ‘Things will get better, I know they will.’ She sat up straighter, buoyed by steely determination, and possibly the last dregs of her resilience.

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Nonna crossed her arms over her ample chest. ‘Do you know something I don’t or are you praying for a miracle?’ Annalisa’s fingers had crept up to touch the locket Ben had given her on their first anniversary, to draw what strength she could from it.

  Now pushing her curls back from her face with one hand, Annalisa picked up her wine glass with the other and took a gulp. Light danced off the emerald glass, offering her courage with its cheerfulness. How bad could things get? They’d always pulled through in the past.

  ‘Spring is coming. People will want their little jobs done before it gets too hot so …’ More like a mangled line from a Game of Thrones episode than a piece of business rationale. Nonna, of course, was not buying her logic.

  ‘Let’s say you’re right and sales do spike, what then? What happens after that?’ She placed her soft hand over Annalisa’s calloused one. ‘Darling, you can’t put your head in the sand and wish for divine intervention. I’ve tried that, and believe me, it doesn’t work. What you need is a plan.’

  The back of Nonna’s hand revealed a road map of wrinkles telling the tale of her life. Her ornate diamond engagement and wedding rings looked too heavy for her, yet Annalisa knew she’d never taken them off a day since Poppy Lorenzo had put them on. Nonna had come through some terrible and challenging times, which made her one of the few people Annalisa could turn to, who understood exactly how she felt.

  ‘Darling, that big hardware chain is opening a warehouse on old Mick Sullivan’s property. May he rest in peace. When it does, boom! Cappelli’s is a goner.’

  ‘Nonna!’ cried Annalisa, all the positive energy of the evening evaporating faster than it had come. ‘We don’t know that for sure. People will still want personal service and we’ve been here for generations. They’ll come out of loyalty.’

  Nonna patted her hand softly. ‘Or they won’t come at all, my dear one. That doll house you made for Mel’s daughter … what’s her name?’

  ‘Luna.’

  ‘Yes, her.’ Nonna dismissed the toddler from the story with a wave of her hand. ‘The doll house was majestic. You could make them for people or even hold a workshop here so they can make their own.’ Nonna picked up her wine glass. ‘Put some of those creative talents to good use.’

  Annalisa blew her cheeks out. ‘I’m not qualified to teach anyone anything.’

  ‘What are you talking about? The qualification lies in the craftmanship of what you do. You are as good as anyone else.’ She slapped her hands down flat on the table as if slamming home her point. ‘I shop on Etsy. I know.’

  ‘You shop on Etsy?’ Annalisa could not contain her surprise.

  ‘What? Because I’m old you think I can’t work technology? I do just fine, thank you very much.’ She puffed up like a hen with its feathers ruffled. ‘Where do you think I got those earrings I gave you last Christmas?’

  ‘Okay, you have a point about both the technology and my craft projects.’ Annalisa pulled her chair closer to the table. ‘Pass me that pen and some paper please.’

  ‘Good, a list.’ Nonna moved closer too. ‘Put down the doll furniture as a separate class. You’ll make more money that way.’ She tapped Annalisa’s pad with her red lacquered nail. ‘And write down those macramé plant hangers, like the one you made me. We used to make them big in the seventies. Big is always better.’

  Annalisa wrote these things down along with the possibility of a decoupage course and maybe even some mosaic projects. She needed to keep the materials low cost so the courses would be affordable.

  ‘You could do with making one of those hangers for in here. It would detract from the bookshelf made from old fruit boxes. Cheer the place up. It looks like a warehouse in here.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Nonna. I like to think of it as rustic.’

  ‘I care about your happiness, mia cara. You will always be my little poppet.’

  ‘Where do I advertise? I mean, there aren’t many people who live locally. Who’s going to come?’ She tapped the pen on her teeth, worry zipping through her.

  ‘On that community page you love so much, or in the paper. Get the people from Bendigo to come. It’s not so far for a Saturday or Sunday workshop. After the last year or so of trouble, people want to do something nice.’

  Nonna had a point. Temporary confidence erected a barrier to her fear of failure for long enough to write a decent list of skills she had to offer. Her lack of formal qualifications in anything still rattled her but for tonight, at least, the future looked a little brighter.

  While she’d been writing away, Nonna had served up a plate of cannelloni. The wafting smell of the rich tomato sauce and beef mince filling flavoured with Nonna’s own secret blend of herbs and garlic made her stomach rumble with anticipation.

  ‘Eat or you won’t have any strength to do anything.’ Whatever might be ailing you, Italian food could probably fix it.

  Annalisa shovelled a forkful into her mouth with no regard for ladylike manners. Nonna watched her, a look of appreciation on her face.

  ‘Go slow, darling. You always eat like you’re having your last meal.’

  ‘Only your cooking. Mine pales by comparison. Even Joe won’t eat it.’ Annalisa took the time to savour another bite. ‘This is so good.’

  Nonna preened her feathers at the praise. ‘What would Joe know anyway? The man never married, had no wife to cook for him. You’d think he’d be grateful for the offer of a home-cooked meal.’

  ‘I think he likes you,’ Annalisa said. She enjoyed teasing her grandmother about Joe, watching her blush and pretend she hadn’t noticed the man dancing attendance on her for all these years.

  ‘Nonsense. I’m a respectable widow, too old for romance. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.’

  They finished their meal in companionable silence. Good food, good company, a nice wine and a plan all conspired to make her feel as if everything was going to be alright.

  Later, as she was getting ready to go, Nonna remembered something. ‘I almost forgot, I’ve got a present for you.’ She rummaged around in one of her bags and pulled out a large leather-bound book.

  ‘What is it?’ Annalisa took the book gently, its age evident in its battered cover. Sh
e placed it on the table and opened it carefully.

  ‘This book contains the history of your family, the history of this store, from the very first Cappelli down to you.’ Nonna came closer, looking over Annalisa’s shoulder as she turned the pages.

  ‘These are all newspaper clippings,’ Annalisa said with wonder. ‘This one is from the nineteenth century.’

  ‘It’s important to preserve memories of the past. My mother-in-law gave this to me to keep. Now I give it to you. You are the official custodian of the Book of Cappelli.’

  ‘I’m in here too!’ An article from the local paper announced her birth and showed a picture of Annalisa’s parents holding her as a newborn baby.

  ‘So you are,’ said Nonna.

  She ran a fingertip over the article. ‘I didn’t realise what a tough time Mum and Dad had trying to have me.’

  ‘You were the light of their life,’ said Nonna. ‘Tough times come and go. You don’t want to set up camp and live in those experiences. You learn to let them go and keep moving forward towards the good times. You must make sure to put your own clippings in here.’

  She visualised a story about the store going out of business. ‘Might make for grim reading.’

  ‘Maybe …’ said Nonna. ‘You should read through every article. You might find it inspiring. I always did. Although, I must warn you there are some confronting things in there.’

  ‘Like what?’ Her mind went straight to the death of her parents twenty years ago. She’d never be able to read the details of the accident.

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s nothing about Grandpa or your mum and dad passing away,’ said Nonna, reading her mind. ‘I didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedies every time I opened the book. But back in the old days, when the White Australia policy was still in place, there was a lot of racism towards Italian immigrants. We weren’t considered white so sometimes …’ She didn’t finish her sentence.

  ‘I get it.’ Annalisa closed the book gently.

  She tried to imagine what it must have been like back then, to be disregarded and devalued because of the culture or country you came from. And while her own life experience had been somewhat different, she wanted to say something to comfort her grandmother and, if she were being honest, herself.