If I Fell

~68~

"Hailey why on earth did you chose the graveyard shift, who in their right mind will come in at this time of night or morning should I say" I checked the huge mirrored pieces of glass above the front entrance.. the glass was set out for the hours of time and ticking hands told me it was way, way, way past my bedtime.

The gallery was a tiny shop off campus, students were able to on-sell their artistic creations, this themed night tonight, or should I say this morning, was held to coincide with his visit; figuring with him in town, a stream of fans would buy up big time.

Him being my secret past.

"Here take this" Hailey clomped over in her heavy army boots, fashion I'm told again. She held a twenty dollar note in her outstretched hand " Stop belly aching and fetch some grub from over there please mummy" Her slender hand pointing diagonally across the street to the corner kebab shop twinkling lights over its name and a flashing 'OPEN' sign on the door.

"Do they sell chips and bread?" Being surrounded by all this Brit art, and George's face especially, made me badly crave a fresh chip butty, his favourite if I remember correctly.

"What? No..... I don't know. They sell kebabs that's what we all buy... from the kebab shop" Hailey pouted then went back to sweeping invisible dirt from the pristine floor.

Hails was instigator of all this, thus insisting I stay to 'help'. My fault I suppose, I never could stop listening to the boys music. All this time, from her birth, no, from conception, the lads sang tunes in the background of my life always.

Art was her passion and a French Art studio, so impressed by her creations in all mediums, sent her letters of invitation to visit France and work alongside leading artists. A once in a lifetime opportunity but she has baulked yet again. It's my fault, her knowing of my France phobia for want of a better word, keeps her hesitating to accept offers.

Her flat, my new home, since we lost her father and the farm all within 5 years, is our flat now.

I really tried to blend into the harsh landscape and did settle into the Australian way of life. I became a farmer in every way- driving tractors, mustering animals, branding, feeding orphan lambs, riding motorbikes and horses, driving the stock from the market in the beat-up Bedford truck the sheep jam packed in the crate, like, well, like sheep.

But he died and I struggled on alone, with Hailey at University. Only, in the end, I was to be beaten by both the drought and the bank. The foreclosure sale was early last week, the auctioneers hammer slammed down on my heart hour after hour as equipment, stock, furniture and the land was sold.

The tinkerling bell advised I was entering Harry's Shop and a large bearded man walked to the counter.

"Evening. No Morning Lovely" I relaxed he was as Welsh as a leek, nearly a neighbour in the ancient past.

"Oh yeah. Hi ummm morning. Can I get a vegetarian kebab"

"Let me guess.... Hailey's sister" He flirted... there was no way he could miss I was a hefty bit older than being Hails sister 'She said she was on duty tonight, how's it going over there"?

"Mum actually but thanks anyway" He was rough and ready, covered in splattered oil from the grill but a compliment is a compliment, so I took it "Dead as a dodo"

"Well it was going great guns earlier must be a lull" He was a jolly man over six foot, an air of mischief about him "And what can I get you my love?"

"A serve of chips please" I teetered on asking... it wasn't on the menu board, but he was a Welshman after all "You wouldn't have a loaf of bread by any chance, I'm dying for a chip butty" I grinned as his face lit up. I got my wish.