The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  “I’ll be there at ten.” Laura spun on her heel and headed back towards the house.

  Bree stared after her. She hadn’t been expecting help but it would have been nice if one of her sisters had stepped up, at least until her dad got back, around lunchtime according to the text she’d had from her mum earlier. Bree strode on to let the dogs out. Her sisters had always been useless when it came to working on the property. She didn’t know why she’d hoped that had changed.

  Laura could feel Bree’s look boring into her back as she walked away. She hated sheep work. She was always in the wrong place at the wrong time and they never went where she wanted them to. Behind her a motorbike roared to life and the sound of its revving engine was joined by another vehicle. She didn’t look back.

  The previous night, Kate had said she’d help with the mustering, much to Laura’s relief. After Bree and Owen had left for their little love nest, Laura had poured two glasses from a bottle of red and told her older sister all about her decision to leave the city. Kate had nodded and murmured in all the right places but she hadn’t said a lot. Laura had thought she looked tired but had put it down to the drive. Now she said she was sick, according to Bree.

  Inside the house she could hear the shower. She knocked on the bathroom door. The shower stopped and a string of invective exploded back at her.

  “It’s me, Laura. Just checking you’re—”

  The door flew open and Kate stood in a whirl of steam, a towel clutched to her torso. “Sorry. I thought you were Bree.”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Damn. Did she say where?”

  “Tank paddock, but don’t worry about it, she’ll manage till Dad gets back.”

  “Have we heard from him?”

  Laura shrugged. “I haven’t. I’ll take morning tea out later.” She peered at Kate. “Bree said you were sick.”

  “Not sick exactly. Just feeling tired and a bit off. We’ve had a full-on couple of months. I think I just hit the wall. I’d kill for a tea though, and some toast.”

  “I’ll get on it. I haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Thanks.” Kate flicked her a grateful smile and shut the door.

  In the kitchen Laura stopped and looked around. This room was the hub of their home. The wooden furniture gave off a soft golden glow and all the family photos gave the large room a welcoming feel. The working space was vast and filled with every cooking gadget known to the gourmet chef. She felt inspired and had an overwhelming urge to cook. The basic kitchen in her city flat, with only two functioning hot plates and a small oven-come-grill with a door that didn’t close properly, wasn’t conducive to cooking anything but the simplest of meals. And when she came home for the odd weekend, cooking was the last thing she felt like doing, especially because her mother always had it all organised.

  Laura was thinking cornflake crumb biscuits because they were her favourites, little cakes with the tops cut out and filled with cream, and maybe even some savoury pinwheels if she could find all the right ingredients. Something that would brighten Bree’s face when she took it out for morning tea. It would also be a help to her mother if Laura had an assortment of freshly baked food ready for mustering. She forgot all about breakfast and threw herself into her task with enthusiasm.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Twenty minutes had passed when Kate’s voice startled her from her work. She dropped the spatula dripping with cake batter onto the floor and snatched it up again. She’d wipe the cupboard and floor later. “I’m making morning tea to take out to the paddock.”

  “You do know Mum would have the freezer full already.” Kate cast her gaze around the kitchen. “What happened to breakfast?”

  Laura looked back at the bench. She’d spread out a bit but she was trying to get the cake and biscuits ready to go in the oven at the same time then she’d put the pinwheels in when she took the sweet stuff out. “I forgot. I’ve boiled the kettle.”

  Kate felt the side of the kettle, flicked it on again and took out a travel mug. “I’ll take a ute out and help with the mustering.”

  “Okay.” Laura was a little disappointed. She’d hoped Kate would stay and help with the cooking or at least the washing up.

  “You’d better have this lot cleaned up before Mum gets home.”

  “Yoo-hoo.”

  Kate and Laura looked at each other. “Granny?”

  “You are home. I was beginning to wonder—” Olive arrived in the doorway and stopped, her words petering out as she looked from Kate to Laura. “What’s happened?”

  “Hello, Granny.” Kate was the first to move. “Nothing’s happened. Laura and I are home for a visit.” She wrapped her grandmother in a hug and kissed her cheek.

  “Nobody told me you were coming. Are you here for mustering? I’m meant to be at a trading table but they seemed to have enough helpers and I thought…” Over Kate’s shoulder Olive eyed the kitchen. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Mum and Dad are on their way back from Adelaide.” Laura stepped up to embrace her grandmother. She smelled of violets and was her usual mix of old and new. Her clothes were always neat if a little old-fashioned but she bought a new pair of glasses each year with trendy frames. Her current pair were round in a tortoiseshell pattern of pinks and reds and her straight grey chin-length hair was parted to one side and held back with a bright pink clip that reminded Laura of a child’s hair.

  “What on earth are they doing in Adelaide? What about mustering? Who’s doing the food?” Olive barely paused for breath before she took a lock of Laura’s hair and gave it a gentle tug. “I do hope that’s not a permanent aberration, Laura dear.”

  “It’ll wash out…eventually.”

  “Oh well, every lining has a silver cloud, I suppose.”

  Laura swallowed a grin. Granny was fond of idioms but often muddled them up.

  “Bree’s started the mustering with Graeme from next door and the other two fellas Dad hired.” Kate plucked an apple from the fruit bowl. “I was about to head out to help.”

  Olive’s sharp gaze flicked from one to the other. “What did you say they went to Adelaide for? Your mother told me she wouldn’t help with the church trading table but she didn’t mention Adelaide.”

  Laura shrugged. One of the things she’d enjoyed about living away from home was that she didn’t have to constantly inform everyone of her movements. “It was a last-minute thing, I think. Something about farm paperwork.”

  Olive frowned. “What paper—”

  Her words were lost in the distant tooting of a car horn.

  Laura led the way outside to the sight of Graeme’s ute pulling in beyond her grandmother’s car at the back gate, with the dogs barking excitedly from the tray. The ute had barely stopped when Graeme leaped from the front seat. “Bree’s come off her bike. She’s hurt.”

  Through his open door they could see Bree propped in the passenger seat. Laura and Kate gave a collective gasp. It was Olive who strode along the path. “How bad?”

  Laura gripped Kate’s arm and they followed.

  “Her leg got caught on some wire. I reckon she’s hit her head when she’s come off the bike,” Graeme called. He strode to the other side of the ute and opened the door. “Thought it best to wrap the leg and bring her here.”

  “Very sensible.” Olive nodded as she joined him and leaned into the ute as Laura and Kate arrived on the driver’s side.

  Laura gasped again at the sight of her sister’s pale face and ripped and blood-soaked jeans. The top of her leg was wrapped in a dirty towel, which also had a patch of something dark that Laura assumed was more of her sister’s blood.

  Bree frowned. “Hello, Granny. What are you doing here?”

  “Just checking up on you all and lucky I did. What’s happened?” Her voice was calm.

  Bree’s frown turned to a wry smile. “Had a bit of an accident.”

  “I can see that. We’re going to get you inside and patch you up.” Olive looked across to La
ura. “Come round and give Graeme a hand.”

  Graeme, who’d been known to lug bags of grain under one arm, looked affronted. “I can manage her, Mrs King.”

  “I know you can carry her but I want Laura to keep pressure on that wound until we can see what we’re dealing with.” Olive glanced across the top of the ute. “Kate, we’ll need the first aid kit and more towels. And clear that mess off the kitchen table.”

  Laura imagined a severed artery. Didn’t people bleed out fast from that kind of injury? She was aware of Kate taking in gulping breaths as she hurried away but Laura’s focus was on Bree and how she’d dismissed her request for help that morning. Maybe Bree had cut corners because she was trying to do too much. Laura chewed her lip as she rounded the ute, flooded with guilt and terrified for her sister.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” Graeme said.

  “I could walk.” Bree’s attempt at stoicism was half-hearted.

  “Stop mucking around, Bree.” Olive’s tone was kind but firm. “Help Graeme as much as you can.”

  Bree complied meekly. That was the thing about Granny. She gave orders and everyone obeyed, even Bree.

  As soon as her sister was clear of the door, Laura gripped the bloodied towel, applying as much pressure as she could.

  Bree winced and Laura’s stomach churned at the thought of what the leg might look like beneath the bloodied towel. Together she and Graeme manoeuvred Bree inside with Olive leading the way and holding the doors.

  “Put her on the table,” Olive said.

  “Bloody hell, Gran,” Bree complained. “We’ve got a million beds in this house.”

  “I’m saving your mother a mess to clean up.” She gently pushed Bree backward onto the table and an equally pale-faced Kate slid a cushion under her sister’s head.

  “Make Graeme a cuppa, Kate.”

  “I’ll switch off the ute first.”

  In their rush to get Bree inside they’d left doors open and the engine running.

  “Right you are.” Olive dismissed Graeme with a wave. “Laura, find some heavy-duty scissors.” She patted Bree’s hand. “Hope they’re not your favourite jeans but I want to see what the damage is under here.”

  “The wire went into the front of my leg and ripped sideways.” Bree’s tone was matter-of-fact now. “Not too deep so no major damage.”

  Laura came back with the scissors and the first aid kit as Olive gave a slight nod. “Have another towel on standby just in case.”

  Laura’s stomach roiled but she did as she was bid, picking up a fresh towel and gripping Bree’s hand as Olive carefully loosened Graeme’s makeshift bandage and peered underneath. She pressed the dirty towel back. “You’re right. It’s messy but you’ll live. I think a bandage will do until we can get you to the hospital. You’ll need stitches.”

  “It’s not that bad, surely,” Bree complained.

  Olive tutted and set to work cutting the jeans away and then quickly bound the wounds in a bandage. “You were lucky,” she said. “It’s not too deep but it’s jagged. I still think you’ll need stitches. Or at the very least a thorough clean-up and a tetanus injection.”

  Bree struggled up on her elbows. “Damn. I should be mustering.” Her face had colour again and she was sporting a red swelling below her left eye.

  “Get her a cold pack for that lump, Laura.” Olive inspected her handiwork with the bandage one last time then, satisfied, she sat and took hold of Bree’s hand. “I think we could all do with a cup of tea now, Kate, then we’ll head in to the hospital.”

  There was a thud behind them. Kate had plonked back onto a chair so hard it had rocked. She’d lost colour and her eyelids fluttered.

  “Get her onto the floor.” Olive’s usual calm manner when giving orders had gone up a notch, like Dad when he was drafting the sheep.

  “What’s happened to her?” Bree was propped up on her elbows peering over Olive’s shoulders.

  “Keep pressure on that bandage,” Olive snapped and left Bree to go to help Laura.

  Together they tipped Kate gently sideways, Laura taking her sister’s weight, and the two of them slipped gracefully to the floor. Well, Kate was graceful; Laura’s butt hit the ground with a thud that jarred through her.

  “Fu—” She caught a glimpse of Granny’s glare. “Fritz,” she said meekly and rubbed her behind vigorously.

  Olive shoved the fresh towel she’d had on standby for Bree under Kate’s head and slapped at her cheek.

  Kate’s eyes opened. “Ouch.” She tried to sit up.

  “Stay where you are. Put her feet up on the chair, Laura.” Olive was in drill-sergeant mode now. Then, like a miniature replica of the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, she lifted her head and sniffed the air. “What on earth is that smell?”

  “Oh no.” Laura leaped to her feet. “The cakes are burning.”

  Seven

  In Adelaide, Natalie was desperate to leave the Halbots’ apartment and get home. She didn’t want to think about Veronica but the more she tried to put the woman out of her mind the more her thoughts returned to her, like a tongue probing a sore tooth.

  Milt picked up their jackets and the two of them were moving stealthily across the apartment when Bob let himself into the living room, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. It had been late when he’d arrived the previous evening and Veronica had flung herself into his arms. Milt and Natalie had retired to the tiny second bedroom to give them some privacy. They’d changed and each climbed into the matching single beds and had tried to sleep. Later, after it had gone quiet out in the lounge, Milt got up and went out. Natalie heard Bob ask if he wanted a beer. Milt had said yes and she’d eventually fallen asleep listening to the sound of the two men talking quietly.

  Now Bob’s pallor mirrored the grey early-morning light. He glanced over his shoulder then spoke in a low voice. “Vee’s gone into a deep sleep at last.”

  Natalie was grateful, both that Veronica was getting some rest before facing whatever would come today and that they didn’t have to make small talk.

  Bob didn’t look like he’d had much sleep himself. He was one of those men who shaved their heads to avoid the fact that they were almost bald and this morning it made him look much older than when Natalie had last seen him several months earlier.

  Milt gripped Bob’s hand in both of his. “You call us if there’s anything we can do.”

  Natalie glanced from her husband’s concerned face to Bob’s sad one. Milt spoke as if Bob and Veronica were their dearest friends when in reality they were distant neighbours who’d avoided each other for years. Even though Natalie had long forgiven her husband she didn’t want to play happy neighbours any more now than she had back then. The Halbots would have plenty of other friends they could rely on.

  “Thank you both…” There were tears in Bob’s eyes. “For staying with Vee.” He turned to Natalie and placed a hand on her arm. “I know you and Vee had a big falling-out. But it was all so long ago. Water under the bridge as they say. Silly for it to have gone on for so long. It was decent of you to put it behind you and support her.”

  Natalie mumbled something placating, unable to hold Bob’s tearful look nor glance at her husband, who was standing rigidly beside her. The couples had been friendly once. That was in the time before Natalie’s husband and Bob’s wife had taken that friendship one step too far. Bob was a good-hearted man but she couldn’t imagine even he would be that much of a saint if he knew the truth. She had wondered what Veronica had told her husband all those years ago to keep the families apart. The few times their paths crossed each year Bob was always friendly towards Milt. It was hard to imagine he would act so genuinely if he knew.

  Natalie and Milt were both silent as he drove against the tide of traffic travelling towards the city while they headed away. When he suggested a stop in Gawler for a coffee and a bite to eat it took her by surprise. That’s when she realised she was hungry again. It had been twelve hours since the slice of pizza she’d
eaten last night. She hoped with food in her stomach she would get her mind in order. Normally she spent Thursday afternoons on lesson plans, now she’d have to fit that into the weekend, which would be hard with Laura at home and mustering to be done.

  Not that she’d be out in the paddocks much except to run food. She’d learned to shift sheep in the early days of their marriage. Clem and Milt had been grateful for her help then. Money had been tight and she was one less wage to pay. Even after Kate was born she’d left the baby with Olive for short periods and gone out with them but that had stopped once Bree came along. A lot of things had changed after Bree.

  Milt stretched his legs, strolling up and down the path in front of the bakery while Natalie ordered takeaway coffees and ham-and-cheese croissants.

  “Thanks.” He gave her a grateful smile as she handed his over. They sat their coffees on the bonnet and leaned against the car eating in silence. Natalie glanced at her husband as he took another careful bite of the hot pastry. He looked as tired as she felt.

  “We should take a holiday,” she said.

  “We’re about to start tailing.”

  “After tailing, I mean. Straight after,” she emphasised. “For a month at least.”

  Since the girls had grown up they’d hardly taken more than a few days at a time away from the property. Even the new year’s break away at the beach had dwindled until this last January when they hadn’t gone at all.

  “What about school?”

  “I’ve got plenty of leave I’ve never used.”

  Milt shook his head slowly. “One day we will, Nat, but now’s not a good time.” He took another bite of his croissant.

  She stared at the footpath. When they were in the Halbots’ unit she’d thought all she’d wanted to do was go home. Now she realised all she wanted was to get as far away from home as possible. She’d been given a reprieve and she didn’t want to go back to the same life she’d had before. From juggling teaching and its stresses with the property and its demands, to maintaining the huge house and helping Olive with her unit, the committees and meetings – was that all her life would ever be?