Page 10 of One More Time

His mind in a spin, he went in search of pink fairy floss – Grace’s favourite colour – and that’s when he felt the world tilt and give way beneath his feet.

PART TWO

CHAPTER

4

September 1975

Sliding to a stop near the pinball machine, out of sight of her boss, Grace Denver plucked her strawberry lip-gloss from the pocket of her shorts. As she reapplied, she stole yet another glance across the street, at the crystal-clear water lapping at the white sandy shore of the horseshoe-shaped bay under the powder-blue sky stretching as far as the eye could see. It was a perfect seaside spring day. What she’d give to be among the beachgoers, donning her new swimming costume and burying her face in a book. Alas, the Blueview Café was only starting to come to the end of the lunchtime rush. What a way to spend such a glorious day, working her tooshie off so she could save for her dream. But it could always be worse, as her father would say.

Tightening her white-and-gold rollerskates and ignoring her throbbing feet and aching back, Grace got back to it. Her break was still ten minutes away, but it might as well have been ten years. Humming to the new song, ‘Get Down Tonight’ by KC and the Sunshine Band, she weaved her way through the tables, collecting empty glasses and full ashtrays before whizzing into the kitchen, filled with the aromas of sizzling burger patties and simmering deep-fryers. After dumping the tray near the sink, she efficiently unloaded while making sure to stay out of the way of the cantankerous chef. Not that she could blame him – overworked and underpaid, he had the right to be an old grump. If she were the owner, she’d make sure all her staff felt treasured and valued, but at the rate she was saving her dream of her very own teashop was still a long way off.

She glided back out of the chaotic kitchen, now humming the latest hit song, ‘Mamma Mia’, by one of her top-ten favourite bands, ABBA. Man oh man, they were so cool.

As she took another longing look out to the sea, Grace’s gaze stuttered on a very familiar, and very handsome, face. She pulled in alongside her best friend, who was busy making milkshakes. ‘Far out, Jen, is that who I think it is?’

Jenny Brown’s giant gum bubble burst with a soft pop and she craned her neck to see the tall, muscular man striding along the street. ‘Uh-huh, sure is.’ Jenny turned to Grace with wide eyes. ‘Sapphire Bay’s bad boy is finally back.’

Grace couldn’t help but notice how almost every woman Charlie passed turn her head for a second look.

Jenny shoved a glass in Grace’s hand. ‘Pretend to look busy, or we’ll get in trouble,’ she said. ‘He must have come home to check in on his grandmother, now that his grandfather’s gone and kicked the bucket.’

Grace gasped, almost spilling the half-filled milkshake. ‘That’s horrible, saying it like that.’

Jenny shrugged. ‘He was horrible, you have to admit.’

Grace couldn’t help but grin – Jenny had always had a knack of saying it how it was. ‘Yeah, okay, fair point, but you don’t want everyone hearing how much we hated the town’s oldest police officer.’

Jenny shrugged. ‘Didn’t everybody?’

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Another fair point.’

‘Drop these to table four?’ Jen said, pushing the tray of malt shakes at her. Grace carefully skated to the table and distributed the drinks to the family sitting there.

Turning her attention back to the man possessing her thoughts, she felt a rush of butterflies swarm her belly as she watched Charlie Wilson stub his cigarette out on the corner of a bin, shove his hands into the pockets of his bell-bottoms and make a beeline for the front door of the café. She weaved back to the counter. ‘Oh my goodness, he’s actually coming in here! Jen, what am I going to do?’ Grace could feel her cheeks burning like wildfire.

Jenny shook her head. ‘Take a chill pill, Gracie. He’s just a guy.’

‘Yes, but he’s the guy I kissed in high school, behind the sports shed, and then he never came near me again! Remember?’

‘How could I not?’ Jenny chuckled. ‘You went on about it for ages.’

Poking her tongue out at her friend, Grace watched him step inside, the bell on the door handle jingling as it closed behind him. In his faded jeans and white t-shirt, most people would have said he resembled every other man in the place. But not to Grace. To her, Charlie Wilson had always been different.

Jenny elbowed her. ‘Well, go on then. Go see him.’

‘I … I can’t.’ Nerves suddenly turned Grace’s legs to stone. ‘Can you go and serve him? Pleeease?’

‘Just imagine him naked and you’ll be right.’ Her smile playful, Jenny wriggled her brows. ‘You’ve already done that a million times, haven’t you?’

‘Oh, stop it.’ Grace gave Jenny a good-natured shove. ‘You’re only going to make me more nervous.’

‘Oh, come on now, you’re one of the most confident women I know, Grace Denver.’ She offered a reassuring smile. ‘You got this.’

Observing him making his way through the tables and settling at the far back corner, Grace couldn’t help but be reminded how blatantly male Charlie was – it was no wonder he’d returned from Vietnam only to then devote himself to training new army recruits at the Kapooka Barracks in Wagga Wagga.

‘I hope you’re right,’ Grace replied a little dazedly, her focus back on Charlie. ‘Here goes nothing.’