stand next to him. She studiously ignored Jane and Ziggy; it was like at school in the sandpit when she’d played that freaky “avoid eye contact at all costs” game.
“Listen, Jane,” said Graeme. “Obviously I don’t want to say too much in front of your son here, but I understand you’re embroiled in some sort of dispute with the school and I don’t know the ins and outs of all that, and frankly I’m not that interested, but let me tell you this, Jane.”
He placed both palms on the table and leaned over her. It was such a calculated, intimidating move, it was almost comical. Jane lifted her chin. She needed to swallow, but she didn’t want him to see her gulping nervously. She could see the deep lines around his eyes. A tiny mole next to his nose. He was doing that ugly teeth-jutting thing that a certain type of shirtless, tattooed man did when he was yelling at reporters on tabloid television.
“We decided not to get the police involved this time, but if I hear that you go near my wife again I’ll be taking out a restraining order against you, quick-smart, Jane, because I will not stand for this. I’m a partner in a law firm and I will bring the full weight of the law down on your—”
“You need to leave now.”
It was Tom, carrying a plate of pancakes. He placed the plate on Jane’s table and cupped one hand gently over the back of Ziggy’s head.
“Oh, Tom, I’m sorry we just . . .” fluttered Harper. The mothers of Pirriwee were addicted to Tom’s coffee and treated him as a beloved drug dealer.
Graeme straightened and pulled once on his tie. “All OK here, mate.”
“No,” said Tom. “It’s not. I won’t have you harassing my customers. I’d like you to leave right now.” Tom’s teeth weren’t jutting, but his jaw was clenched.
Graeme tapped his closed fist, knuckles down, on Jane’s table. “Look, legally, mate, I don’t think you actually have the right to—”
“I don’t want legal advice,” said Tom. “I am asking you to leave.”
“Tom, I’m so sorry,” said Harper. “We certainly didn’t mean—”
“I’m sure I’ll see you both another time,” said Tom. He went to the door and held it open. “Just not today.”
“Fine,” said Graeme. He turned and pointed a finger an inch away from Jane’s nose. “Remember what I said, young lady, because—”
“Get out before I throw you out,” said Tom, dangerously quiet.
Graeme straightened. He looked at Tom.
“You just lost yourself a customer,” he said as he followed his wife out the door.
“I certainly hope so,” said Tom.
He let the door go and turned and looked back at his customers. “Sorry about that.”
One of the men in overalls clapped. “Good on ya, mate!” The woman with the toddler stared curiously at Jane. Ziggy twisted around in his seat to look out the glass windows at Harper and Graeme hurrying off down the boardwalk, then he shrugged, picked up his fork and began to eat his pancakes with gusto.
Tom came over to Jane and crouched down beside her, his arm on the back of her chair.
“You OK?”
Jane took a deep, shaky breath. Tom smelled sweet and clean. He always had that distinctive fresh, clean smell because he surfed twice a day, followed by a long, hot shower. (She knew this because he’d once told her that he stood under the hot water, replaying all the best waves he’d just caught.) It occurred to Jane that she loved Tom, just as she loved Madeline and Celeste, and that it would break her heart to leave Pirriwee, but that it was impossible to stay. She’d made real friends here, but she’d also made real enemies. There was no future for her here.
“I’m OK,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you for that.”
“Excuse me! Oh dear, I’m sorry!” The toddler had just spilled his babycino all over the floor and was crying.
Tom put his hand on Jane’s arm. “Don’t let Ziggy eat all those pancakes.” He stood and went over to help the woman, saying, “It’s OK, little buddy, I’m going to get you another one.”
Jane picked up her fork and took a mouthful of the apple pancakes. She closed her eyes. “Mmmm.” Tom was going to make some lucky man extremely happy one day.
“I wrote it down,” said Ziggy.
“Wrote what down?” Jane used her fork to cut another edge of the pancake. She was trying not to think of Harper’s husband. The way he’d leaned over her.