Narangatooki is about as isolated and remote as you could find. What was once a booming township of nearly ten thousand people during the gold rush days has long faded into almost obscurity, boasting 3 permanent residents within the township, if you could even call it that, and probably another 100 people on the outlying farm-lets and cattle stations.

This may seem a harsh description for what was once a quaint little township, during the 80's we enjoyed a reasonable tourist trade, investor's saw opportunity and soon we had a caravan park, a motel and even a local watering hole – albeit only operational during the tourist season.

Back in those days the Narangatooki/Kethchel river used to flow through the town, lined with river red-gums and other variety of gum tress it was a haven for tourists and families wishing to escape the suburban sprawl during the holiday seasons. As anyone on the land will tell you, the pollies always manage to stuff things up, more concerned with getting votes then smaller communities the river got diverted for some glorious hydro-electricity project, which itself eventually failed. As such Narangatooki lost its shine with the tourists and again we ended up were we started - with nothing! It would seem the wheel had once again came full-circle for Narangatooki.

The general store in Narangatooki has been a local icon for well over 100 years, passed down from generation to generation. Now I am the last in the line, the last bastion of hope for the Narangatooki general store which has served hundreds of thousands of customers through the years. It is well known locally that the general store is in its last years, even with this the local community still heavily supports the store, buying supplies and daily needs. For this I am eternally grateful, as without it I would surely have to close shop.

I once had aspirations of passing the shop onto my off-spring, the ex-wife had a very different view of future events. Marie was a city girl, I had met her during one of my visits to the city when I was arranging deliveries of various stock for the shop, she was charming, exceptionally beautiful in every respect, back then she loved the idea of living in a small country community. Needless to say her love affair with the country didn't last long at all. We had a whirl-wind romance, got married within a few months of meeting. Marie moved out here on a permanent basis, save the odd sojourn back to the city to catch up with her friends. Two years later she sprung on me the news that she was tired of the country life and was moving back to the city, to add insult to injury she also had arranged for the divorce proceedings, it seemed there was no way of resolving the matter, and to me it was clear it wasn't just the country life she was tired of, for there was no talk of 'us' moving to the city, no, just her.

I hear on the grapevine she now has a family and is living very comfortably, I never hear from here, she has moved on in her life, and I guess, so have I – there are no romantic feelings towards Marie on my part and oddly I am happy that she has found happiness and doing well.

Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding,... "Fucking alarm clock” I mutter to myself, and I hit the snooze button for that extra ten minutes of bliss. 6.30AM – I am lying in bed going through the day ahead of me in my head, 'Open the shop at 8AM', 'Stock-take today' – 'This should fill a few hours' I think to myself... 'And of course the mail' I think – yes I must sort the mail, Mondays are always a busy day, mostly because its the weekly mail drop, the plane comes in from the city with the weeks mail/papers and supplies for the shop. Little did I know it then, lying in my bed, that the coming week was going to change my whole life, turn everything on its head and take me down paths I had never imagined.

I drifted back to sleep, eventually waking at 7AM. Dragging myself out of bed and into the shower was hard, even though it was a daily ritual I was more then accustomed to. A quick bit of toast and a cuppa for brekky and I headed downstairs to flip the sign and open the store for the day.

I turned on the telly to catch the morning news and weather, the weather was always the same out here, 'hot, or hot and wet'. Air conditioning was an essential support for human life in these parts. 'Ding' went the doorbell, it was Jean who lived a block down from the shop, born and bred locally Jean was a virtual goldmine of information on everything you could possibly want to know. Why this once very attractive woman had never married and got the hell out of here defies logic. I recall seeing Jean in her younger years when I was a kid, some 25 or more years ago, even then she was getting on in years, but still very attractive. Now at 87 she is living her years out in the house in which she came into the world in. Jean potters around the shop, one of her rituals, and browses through the items, even though she buys the same thing everyday – Milk, Bread and a few sweets. “Good morning son, good to see you fit and well” Jean declared, I had heard this greeting daily for the last 20 odd years, still I returned with a smile and said “Doing ok Jean, yourself?”, “Oh not to bad for an old girl you know, can't complain”. With that Jean was out the door. I knew Jean would be back within a few hours, as Monday was mail collection day everyone came to the shop for lunch before returning home to their respective farms, Jean been the local cooking guru has been cooking for the shop ever since I can recall, she will make up batches of scones, cakes, meat for sandwiches and lunch meals – and bring them all to the shop around 11AM, just in time for me to make-up enough sandwiches, slice and wrap the cakes and prepare the scones – jam and cream – one of my favourites.

The mail delivery arrived, now was a time for a rush of fevered activity, sorting all the mail into its relevant pigeon holes for collection by its respective owners, although I had a pile of mail, addressed to a name I didn't recognise, I knew the address well, it was Macca's old farm, affectionately known locally as Macca's Car Cemetary, old Macca collected car parts and bodies in their various forms, I can't ever remember anything being restored, he just collected them. Alex McDowell, like Jean was also a born and bred local, and had passed away a few years back after a long illness. No-one ever claimed the farm, and no-one was aware of any relatives, Macca was a solitary soul and best described as eccentric to say the least. The farm hadn't been used since Macca's passing, and was now in far worse state then when Macca was still around, even then maintenance wasn't top priority for Macca.

Here I was pondering what to do with this mail addressed to a Sharna McDowell, could this possibly be Maccas daughter? 'No, Macca never spoke of any children' I thought, I will ask Jean when she returns I mused, if Jean doesn't know then no-one will, putting the mail to one side in a box until I could determine its rightful owner or mark it 'not at this address'.

'Love are you there' I heard Jean say in her croaky voice, smiling as always she handed over her basket of goodies for the day, and jumped behind the counter to assist with preparation. Even though I offered many times to pay her, Jean always bluntly refused my offer with her standard line 'Young man, do I look like a charity seeker to you, I will have you know I worked the sheds here when I was a young lass and never expected any hand-outs from anyone and I am not about to start now at this age'. 

The long standing arrangement, even from my grandparents days was that the shop supplied Jean with all ingredients to make the lunches and morning tea treats each Monday and she got her daily goods free of charge. Since running the shop myself I would always include some extras in the box for Jean, as she was very kind hearted and was doing it pretty hard financially.

The mail, 'ah yes' I thought, reminding myself to ask Jean of this Sharna McDowell, and what she may know. 'Jean, did ol' Macca have any children you know of?' I asked, Jean thought about this for a moment, you could almost hear the cogs grinding in her head searching for the answer. 'I can't say I do dear, my he never spoke of such things, although mind you there was a time when he did stay in the city for a few months, I don't remember Alex mentioning any romances though'. Well that didn't really give me much to go on, 'Why do you ask son?' said Jean with a wry smile, indicating she knew more then she was letting on, 'Oh it was just some mail that came today, addressed to Maccas farm, the name on the mail was for a Sharna McDowell though, it kind of puzzled me a bit Jean'. Then as if a light had flicked on in her head Jean said 'You know I do remember seeing a photo of this little girl in Alex's house when I took some eggs to him, you know when he wasn't well, well I asked him who the girl was, thinking it may have been a sister, and he just said something that happened a long time ago, he sounded as if he was heartbroken, he never let on who she was though'. So who was this mysterious Sharna, was she the little girl in the photo Jean saw? 'Hurry along son no time for daydreaming' I head Jean bark.

We finished all the preparation with plenty of time to spare, Jean was definitely a whiz in the kitchen, and without doubt one of the best cooks I've ever met. Jean made up a pot of coffee and dabbed some jam and cream on a few scones, set them on a plate on the table, it was another of our regular morning rituals, coffee and scones before the Monday rush. I immensely enjoyed this quite time with Jean, she would often tell me stories of when she was younger, and the boom times of the township. Sure she added some extra spice to her stories, but she was good company and I got a laugh from her tales.  Out of the blue Jean claimed 'Son its time for you to settle down' again with that wry smile that tells you she knows more then she lets on, before I could get a word out she continued' 'You can't stay here and rot in this shop young fella, if I was your age I would snap you up in an instant' she said. Then again came that wry smile 'Maybe you will meet a lovely young lady soon'. With that Jean got up and started to clear the table without another word, just busily cleaning and singing to herself. Jeans comments left me slightly puzzled, what did this old buzzard know that I didn't, did she actually know who Sharna McDowell was?, if so what did she know? Either way I knew there was little point in probing further, attempting to get information out of Jean was futile at times like this, she would clam up tighter then a bank vault.


The first of the mornings customers arrived, picked up their mail and supplies, and of course they were treated to Jeans hospitality, sandwiches, cakes and scones. No one ever complained about having to spend an extra hour or more in the shop, Jean was well respected and loved by all around here, so much so locals would often pitch in to fix up things at Jeans house free of charge, to keep it in a liveable state. Today Jean was different then normal, with every customer that came in she would tell them how I should think about closing the shop, everyone was in agreement, everyone that is except me. Why would Jean be so keen to have me shut the shop? Where would she get her shopping from? Who would she have to dote over daily?

I said jokingly to a packed shop 'Jean the shop will be here for a long time yet, I'm not planning on going anywhere'. Jean gave me an awkward smile and said 'Of course son'. 

Later that day Jean and I cleaned up the shop, and sat down for a cuppa together, just small talk, nothing serious or noteworthy. Jean pottered about for the next few house cleaning, and generally tidying things up, as she did everyday. The afternoon passed, a few customers came and went, then came the time to close the doors for another day. Jean had decided it was time I ate a wholesome meal, so with that she busied herself in the kitchen preparing the dinner for tonight.

While Jean was busy cooking, I took the time to go out back, sit down on the deck chair and have a smoke, relax and unwind from the day. As I laid there on the back verandah with the warm breeze gently blowing from the north-west my thoughts again wandered back to the mysterious mail from the mornings delivery. Maybe it was wrongly addressed? 'Ah shit, who cares', I thought to myself, returning to my ciggy. I definitely had far more important things to concern myself with besides what may well turn out to me misaddressed mail that's for sure!

'Ron, Ron dinner's ready' I heard Jean call, trying to get my bearings and wakeup, I had fallen asleep. I stumbled inside, Jean smiling at her efforts, and my what an effort it was! Roast lamb with roast vegetables, and various other steamed vegetables on the side. Jean certainly didn't leave anything to chance with her cooking, and there was no way anyone would go hungry, at least while Jean had anything to do with it. 'I must be the luckiest bastard on earth' I thought to myself as I made my way to the table.

The dinner was fantastic, as it always was when Jean cooked. I used to wonder if it tasted so good just because someone else had made it, or if it was Jean's cooking, it was definitely Jeans cooking, honestly I've never experienced a meal like Jeans before. I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, which most people found amusing and ironic, out here in the middle of nowhere and my abode crammed full of modern icons and appliances. It wasn't as if I was run off my feet and had no time to wash the damn things by hand myself, I never really liked washing dishes all that much anyway.

Jean and I settled in the lounge to watch the news and some telly, the signal from the only television station viewable out here was marginal at best, as such I had satellite installed a few years back when they had a deal going, only a hand-full ever took-up the offer. Jean really didn't care much for television, even though she had her 'favourite' programs it was more the company that she enjoyed, and I could have very easily turned it off and she would be just as happy.

About 10pm Jean said goodnight and headed out the back door and walked back to her house, I watched from the verandah to ensure she made it safely home and waited for her to turn the inside lights on, once Jean was inside, I to decided to call it a day and headed for the sanctuary of my bed.