But having completed the lovely walk, where was the coffee at the end of it? The nearest block included six cafes.
Covid was rife at the time, so I chose a small one, a few doors around the corner – ‘The Cake-Maker’s Daughter’. Not having a phone in my pocket, I gave my details according to the Covid rules and sat outside. The waitress bringing the coffee asked if my name was Carmyl. I said it was. She laughed and said that they had written down Camel! So that was a good start at becoming known.
Mak, who made the coffee, was the friendliest person and made me feel very much at home, as did Nichole. It took me more than a year to realise that they were daughter and mother, and that Nichole was indeed The Cake-Maker.
My son, Michael, visited and quietly gave Mak $100 as my birthday present. Brilliant! I’d walk in, get my coffee card, hand it over and sit down, no payment required! I might mention that when the money ran out, it was quietly renewed.
At Christmas, I gave them a card telling them they had been some of my first friends in Benalla and what a difference they had made to my new town.
I took friends and family there for lunch – some of the best lunches I’ve ever come across. I popped in occasionally for a coffee by myself. I took grand-daughters there. But the one constant was Tuesday morning coffee at 10 with a friend.
The shop was relatively small with only seven or eight indoor tables, so I often rang early on Tuesday to book a table. One table had two very comfortable basket weave chairs and that was often where we ended up.
Bev, who I had got to know through coffee there, would look over at our table as she came through the door and shake her fist with a grin; our church friend, Val, would meet half a dozen mates at the next table; a couple who did morning lake walks would give a wave, Karen from Tomorrow Today would be there to collect coffee for the staff. It was a Tuesday community.
We heard about Mak or Nichole’s holidays, we chatted about our doings, birthdays, news items. It made Tuesdays special.
Then one Tuesday, I arrived to find Mak in a very agitated state on the phone. I helped her bring in the tables and chairs that had only been out for a brief time.
Something was clearly very wrong. I gave her a hug. A sign went up on the door, ‘Due to personal reasons, the shop will be closed until further notice.’
And The Cake-Maker’s Daughter never opened again.
I can only say that the three years of friendship and coffee those women gave me and so many others, was something I will never forget.