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1
Caleb Stirling watched the whirlybird of dust spiral past and thought he must have arrived on the set of a crime show. The squeaking school gate, swinging to and fro, added to the effect.
A cascade of goosebumps erupted across his skin.
Inside the gate, the head mistress of Bellethorpe Primary School, whom he’d successfully avoided the last three mornings in a row, frowned in his direction. Her gaze so intent that he felt trapped like fruit in jelly.
If he avoided her eye, could he slink past unscathed? He’d try.
Taking great interest in Sybella walking beside him, he reached for her tiny hand. In a traitorous move, she dodged his touch and raced away to her friends gathered near the adventure playground. The children’s mothers nattered to each other and stared at him too, just like every other day. In time he’d talk to them, but not today. A presence stepped beside him and his heart sank. His luck had run out. He’d avoided contact with anyone at the school, hell, the entire town since he’d arrived in the backwater that was Bellethorpe. Not for the first time he wondered why his sister had lived in the small country town, which on first glance, had little to offer. And in the midst of winter, it was bloody cold.
‘Sybella says she hasn’t eaten breakfast these last few mornings,’ Mrs Ackhurst addressed him. She leaned in as she spoke and then recoiled with her nose in the air. For some reason, he expected her to have grey, permed hair and a chain with glasses around her neck. Prim and proper and sensibly dressed, yes, but she wasn’t as old as he’d imagine. Her voice was stern though, and she clasped her hands together as she waited for his reply to a question she hadn’t asked.
He thought for a moment trying to remember. He’d seen the kid eat, hadn’t he?
‘Nor has she had any lunch,’ Mrs Ackhurst continued.
‘You don’t provide lunch?’ he enquired.
‘There’s a tuckshop, Mr Stirling, but she needs money to purchase food.’
Caleb felt his pockets and blew out a sigh of relief as he extracted a couple of gold coins.
‘And you need to pre-order.’
Ah. He fondled the coins in his hand.
‘Let me escort you. And, on this occasion only, we’ll accept a late order. Orders must be in by midday the day before.’
She couldn’t be serious. He glanced across at Sybella; each time he looked at the diminutive fragile girl, his heart melted into a pool in his hollow chest. Those black curls, dark eyes; it was like looking at his sister. Sybella sat with a grim expression while her friends laughed and chatted. They were like clones in the identical uniform except their hair was tied into two plaits that ran the length of their tiny backs, their school dresses uncreased and their black shoes, polished. Sybella wore runners with the laces undone and carried a lightweight backpack. It was pink with unicorns on it. The other girls had similar bags but theirs bulged with drink bottles and books.
Darn, Mrs Ackhurst drew him back to the present. Couldn’t she let it rest? ‘This way, Mr Stirling,’ and like the children she taught, Caleb obeyed and followed behind as she strode ahead. She said good morning to each child she passed and their parents. Caleb pulled his cap down lower and hands in his pockets, focused on his shoes
It was only a short walk to the canteen where a bright red sign welcomed you to Bite Right Inn. He cringed.
‘Oh, thank goodness, Mrs Ackhurst. Mrs Bingham hasn’t arrived, and the food preparation isn’t complete…’
Mrs Ackhurst held up her flat palm. ‘Calm down, Kathleen.’
Kathleen took a deep breath and wiped her hands down her black apron.
‘I have the perfect solution. Mr Stirling,’ she turned and pointed at him, ‘is a chef new to the community. He’ll help out, won’t you, Mr Stirling?’
What? Uh ah, she had the wrong culprit. He glanced at the basic stainless-steel kitchen with two women hovering near benchtops, knives and other utensils in their hands. ‘Don’t you simply heat up sausage rolls and make hot dogs and give out lolly bags?’
His words were steady, but his heart hammered fast and his throat constricted. He now regretted that bottle of whiskey last night.
Kathleen smirked and the head teacher replied. ‘Perhaps when you were at school, Mr Stirling, but today, it’s all about Smart Choices and healthy eating and drinking.’
Kathleen bounced on her toes and jumped in. ‘There’re categories, you see, there’s a poster on the wall over there explaining the details. The top and most important is the green category which is foods you can enjoy in abundance. The amber category is food to select very carefully and the red, well, is occasional only.’
What the hell? Someone was pulling his leg.
A nearby door slammed and brought with it a gust of wind down the narrow corridor. Heels clacked on the linoleum floor and broke the silence. The women on both sides of him broke into broad smiles.
He followed their gazes and watched another lady approach. Where were all the men in this town? This woman was different to others he’d met so far. She wore pink heeled boots compared to Mrs Ackhurst’s sensible brogues in a muted camel colour. Dark blue jeans matched a bright pink collared tee which featured a large, ripe strawberry on her left breast. She was well-groomed with make-up and long, luscious mahogany locks that curled in slight waves and sat in perfect strands on each side of her face, coming to rest below her shoulders
‘Good morning Bridie,’ Mrs Ackhurst greeted her. ‘How are you today?’
