Rebecca drove the ute near to the garage and, bending down over the chainsaw, she ripped at the pull cord. It wouldn’t start. Furious, she tried again, making angry noises through her teeth as she pulled again and again on the starter cord. At last the chainsaw spluttered to life.
Uncut, the gnarled base of the pine didn’t seem like wood. It was an eerie smooth grey colour like dead man’s flesh and it made her feel nauseous. When the metal chain of the saw hit the surface the thickness of the wood surprised her. Then the outer bark gave way to softer wood as sawdust flew from the neat line cut by the chainsaw. The tree’s limbs shook as she made two cuts on one side and then began to chainsaw the other. She hoped she’d made the cuts in the right place.
She could feel the tree about to give way and stepped backwards. When it fell the echo of its crash slammed through her whole body. The garage on which it fell seemed to splinter into hundreds of pieces and the corrugated iron crumpled and tore like tinsel. She stood for a moment, puffing and watching until the branches no longer moved, as though she was waiting for a giant beast to die. Then she began on the next tree.
By the time a blackness had settled across the valley, Rebecca had cut down all the massive pines and had dragged them over to two piles using a chain on the largest John Deere tractor. Dead branches, pinecones and needles were scattered all over the yard and in the house garden. It was like a battlefield. Dragging dead weights over dirt and piling them up for a mass burning. She knew green pine burnt well. She lugged the drum of diesel from the back of the ute and took a box of matches from the glove box.
The pine fizzed with sap and squealed and oozed. The dry timber of the garage crackled and blackened amidst licking orange flames. Outside the ring of heat the night was cold and wintry. She pulled her shirt about her and hugged herself. It was a black night. She continued to watch the garage burn until long after the red glow of the hot corrugated iron had died down to nothing.
Inside, she slept on Tom’s bed and held his football which she’d tucked into his footy jumper. She rolled up in a ball. Every muscle in her body ached and her bloodied hands curled like chicken’s claws. They were raw and sore and bled from scratches and blisters, despite the gloves.
At last, when she woke, the house was ablaze with golden morning sunlight. From every window she could see the mountains. She ran to each room and saw the light shine in. She felt better, for a moment. And then she thought of Charlie and she began to cry again.
CHAPTER 44
‘Wow!’ said Sally as she put her hands on her hips and looked at the decimated pile of pines and giant stumps which still bled sap.
‘When you get upset, you really do get upset!’ She turned to her friend. ‘You could’ve killed yourself doing that, you dickhead.’
Rebecca hung her head and folded her arms across her chest. Sally swung a gentle punch, hitting Bec on the upper arm, and hugged her quickly.
‘Come on. Inside. We’ve got work to do.’
In the kitchen Sally dumped her heavy briefcase onto the table and flicked open the clasps. From it she pulled the thick bound copy of Gabs’ and Rebecca’s farm business assignment, a pad of paper and pens. Next, she pulled out a bottle of Bundy.
‘Thought we could use this to help lubricate the mental faculties.’ She sat the bottle of rum on the table. ‘Grab some cups and open her up.’
Rebecca shuffled over to the cupboard and awkwardly tried to pull at the door handle. Her hands were cramped and curled up. Blood had sealed the cuts shut, so that when she stretched her fingers they tore and bled again. She winced as she tried to pick up the cups. Sally, busy shuffling through documents, looked up.
‘Oh, Bec! What have you done to yourself?’ She took her hands and looked at them closely.
‘God! They’re a mess! You dickhead! You must’ve really lost it yesterday during the great pine-tree massacre!’
‘I did go a bit feral.’ Rebecca sank into the chair and watched Sally mix the rum with spitting, fizzing coke.
‘I think I knew all along Charlie wouldn’t stay. But I thought … I thought he’d at least give it a go … just for a little while. He tried to act pleased when I told him Dad was going to let me take the farm on, but I knew … I knew he was gutted. Oh, Sal! What do I do?’
Sally handed her a drink. ‘There’s only one thing to do …’
Bec looked at her while she sipped at her drink, squinting her eyes above the spray of fizz which landed on her nose and cheeks.
‘You’ve got to follow your dreams … Now is your dream Charlie or is it this place?’
‘Both. They’re both my dreams! Sal, why is everything so complicated? Should I call him? I could go back there … and … put a manager on here or something, once it’s up and running again.’
‘Would that make you happy?’
‘No,’ said Bec quietly as she looked down miserably into her now empty glass.
‘Well?’ There was silence between them as Sally poured another glass of rum and coke. Then, Bec spoke.
‘Bugger Charlie Lewis, he’s just a mummy’s boy. Let’s get this show on the road! This is my dream!’ She swung her glass over the table and toasted the view from the window. With the pine trees gone, the window now framed a sweeping view of the valley upstream from the house. The sun was piercing through soft grey and golden clouds. In the sky, streams of white light fanned out onto the wildness of the mountain bushland below.
‘Here’s to your dream then!’ said Sally as she raised her glass and chinked it with Bec’s.
As Rebecca drank, a sadness settled in her heart and stayed there. She would have to learn to live like that. Learn to live without him.
Warmed by rum and comforted by the rumbling kitchen woodstove, the pair sat at the table, not realising that two hours had slipped by as they worked on plans for Waters Meeting.
‘My stomach’s complaining,’ said Sally, and she went to the fridge.
‘Stir-fry?’ she asked, holding up a green capsicum.
As Sally sliced the vegetables Rebecca looked at the job lists written in Sally’s tidy writing. The lists looked daunting, but the overall big picture of the business plan excited her. It made her want to jump up right now and start doing everything all at once. Phoning, faxing, searching the net, tidying the house and sheds, ploughing, planting, everything. The excitement of it all swirled in her head as she visualised the future of her place.
After they stacked the dishes on the sink, Sally poured them a ‘roadie’ for their journey along the long hallway to the office.
Rebecca clunked the old light switch down. A naked bulb hanging from a long black cable cast a bright, exposing light around the farm office. Papers, magazines, envelopes, books, ear tags, tail tags, toy trucks and dusty old books clustered in old wooden pigeonholes and spread out across the desktop. The only clear space in the room was the chair and the area of desk where the computer sat. The walls were covered in fading black and white family photos of the glory days of the farm and old posters from rural newspapers of champion show sheep and cattle. Calendars from Hoofs and Horns, stock and station agents and local produce stores hung on the same nail in a vertical stack with curling yellow edges. Year after year moving by until no more would fit on the nail.
‘Holy cow,’ said Bec looking around the room. ‘Where the flock do we start in here?’
‘You do the clean-out and I’ll search the computer and go through the mail to see where we’re at with debtors and creditors.’
Sally pressed the button of the computer and it came to life, humming gently in the room. She settled herself in the chair as if about to fly a plane. She rubbed her hands together before grabbing the mouse and muttered, ‘Righto, Tom. What have you got for us here?’
Rebecca looked at the glowing blue screen and pictured Tom sitting there. She walked out of the room to get garbage bags and boxes.
Despite the pain in her hands, Rebecca worked in a frenzy, clearing shelves, stacking papers, dusting off surf
aces, and throwing out inkless pens, old business cards and newsletters. When she pulled down the calendars, disturbing a spindly spider, she noticed the square of darkened wood beneath them. The timber walls had faded with age. She was surprised Trudy hadn’t got to the office. The rest of the house had her touches, but not in here. This cold place, once darkened by the pines outside, had been the men’s domain.
Rebecca crumpled papers noisily and rustled garbage bags, and Sally muttered to the computer as she took in the information stored there.
‘He’s been very methodical,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty much all here, all we have to do is upgrade it, print it out and it’s ready for the bank manager. I think we can make an appointment with him for the end of the week. Too soon for you?’
‘Not soon enough,’ said Bec.
Sally fell quiet for a moment.
‘Bec. You’d better come and look at this.’
Rebecca looked at the file which appeared on the screen. She began to read it. Her heart leapt when she realised it was written by Tom.
Dear Bec, If you ever find this file, it’ll mean you’ve found a way towards making Waters Meeting a great property again. You’ve probably extracted Charlie from that crappy cropping country and married him and are setting up shop on this place. I hope so, but as I write this I don’t have much hope for anything. Only hope for you. You’re the strong one out of you and me. I can see a vision for this place, but stuffed if I can make that journey. I’m all messed up Bec. The way things are now, I don’t think you will ever find this file, but if you do, good on you sis.
Tears clouded Rebecca’s vision. She swiped them away and scrolled down the screen. She read on.
This file contains a list of like-minded farmers in this region who are keen on getting some sort of cooperative together … some were keen on the enterprises we’ve looked into. There was a meeting at the pub and I got a list of names and numbers. Things went quiet after the meeting, so nothing’s got off the ground. They just need someone to stir the possum. Someone like you, Bec. So go on … just do it. But don’t do it alone. Don’t be alone like me, ever. Remember I love you. Tom.
Bec scrolled down further, scanning through a list of names and telephone numbers. She was searching for more of Tom’s words in the machine. None came.
——
In the bed that night her limbs slid around the sheets, seeking the touch of Charlie’s warm skin. She wanted to breathe in his musky male smell. But the bed was cold. Rebecca hugged herself and let the tears fall quietly.
In the morning the shrill ring of the phone woke her. She sprang from her bed and thudded down the stairs. She was sure it was Charlie.
‘Hello,’ Rebecca said, trying to sound extra bright and awake.
‘Got you out of bed, did I?’ It was Harry.
‘No,’ said Rebecca defensively, unsure how to react to her father. The tone of his voice settled her. It was the same as it had been in hospital. Without conflict, without arrogance, just a humble quiet string of awkward words.
‘I … um … They said I’m right to come home in the next couple of days and, well, I wanted to see if you were coming down to the city, and if so could you give me a lift home?’
‘Sure Dad,’ said Rebecca a little too gently so she added, ‘There are conditions though.’
‘I see,’ he said cautiously, ‘holding your crippled father to ransom.’
‘You bet! It’s no drama, Dad, it’s just that Sal and I have worked out some figures for the place … a business plan and marketing strategy. To get the farm rolling again.’
‘That was quick! How long have you been back there? What, a week? Talk about a miracle cure! Can you fix missing limbs too?’
Rebecca slid her back down the wall and sat on the floor. ‘No Dad,’ she said tiredly, ‘you don’t understand. We’ve all worked on this for the past few years … It’s a business plan. I compiled it for uni. Sally and Tom helped.’
‘I see,’ Harry said quietly.
‘If we have your backing we’ll have more sway with the bank manager … and we’ll need to sort things out with the lawyers.’
‘Lawyers?’
‘Don’t panic, Dad, just a bit of succession planning … You know full well it’s long overdue. You agreed to it in the hospital. Remember?’
‘Must’ve been the drugs they were pumping into me,’ said Harry.
‘Dad,’ Rebecca urged.
‘Yes, yes. I hear you,’ he said, sounding tired and defeated. ‘Just let me know when you’re coming down.’
‘Okay. I’ll give you a ring after I’ve made all the appointments. Bye then.’
‘Bye.’
Rebecca was about to put down the phone when she heard her father.
‘Bec! Wait.’
‘Yep? What?’
‘You’d better get that log cabin fixed up for me.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sick of that big old house. Log cabin would suit me better.’
‘Right,’ she said.
The line went dead.
‘Cool!’ she said in the empty hallway and then bounded up the stairs two at a time, calling Sally’s name.
Rebecca spread the tablecloth out across the pine table, smoothed down the edges with her fingertips and stood back.
‘There! What do you think.’ She took a step back and looked around the cabin.
‘Very homely,’ said Sally as she peeled off pink rubber gloves and sat on the arm of the chair. ‘Your dad will love it.’
They had worked nonstop on the cabin all morning. Washing windows, sweeping cobwebs away from corners, putting clean sheets on the bed and arranging recent newspapers and magazines. Bec tried hard to ignore the pain from her cut and cramped hands as she worked.
‘Ouch!’ she said, shaking her hands vigorously in the air and pulling a face.
‘What?’ came Sally’s voice from the bathroom.
‘Mr Sheen does not feel good on raw wounds.’
‘You’ll get over it, psycho woman,’ teased Sally as she scrubbed at the shower’s tiled wall. Bec shook her head and kept wiping the low-slung coffee table, before making her way into the bedroom. On the bedside table, she placed a small photograph in a silver frame. It was a picture of Tom, Mick and Bec as kids, all three kneeling on the grass in the garden with a poddy lamb. Mick was holding a bottle with a teat and Tom and Bec hugged the lamb. They had camera smiles on their faces. Rows of white teeth and scrunched-up eyes. She sat it beside what would now be her father’s bed.
As they stood looking at the clean cabin with the newly positioned furniture, Rebecca sighed. ‘It’s going to be so weird, Sal. Just him and me here.’
‘Give it time,’ Sally said. ‘At least you’ll be living in separate houses.’ They pulled the door of the cabin shut behind them and Rebecca bent to straighten the doormat that Mossy had been lying on.
‘I’ll get the brushcutter later and cut that grass away. It’ll be sweet,’ she said.
The cabin was set a fair way from the house amidst some old gnarled rivergums that grew on a small rise above the river. It didn’t share the same spectacular mountain views as the house, but the position Trudy and her parents had chosen was a good one. The river wound around at the front of the cabin past its small deck. The trees sheltered it from the views of the house and outbuildings. It had a private, secluded feel to it.
‘Could’ve moved in there myself,’ said Bec. ‘Would save me rattling around the big house.’
‘You’ll be right,’ said Sally. ‘I plan on visiting you lots … and inviting all your old college mates for wild cocktail or murder parties!’
Rebecca smiled and turned to Sally. ‘Thanks for everything. Taking time off work … for everything, thank you.’ She hugged her friend.
‘No worries,’ said Sal, waving her pink rubber gloves, ‘I’ll send you the bill.’
And then the two trudged up the hill towards the house, both smiling when they saw the sunlight shine onto the verand
ahs of the homestead.
‘Looks great without those big old trees,’ said Sally with a smile.
‘Sure does,’ said Bec, and she raised her eyebrows and nodded. Things were starting to feel okay again. Mossy trotted at Bec’s side as they walked up to the house.
CHAPTER 45
In the car Rebecca and Sally sang along to the Dixie Chicks in twanging tones and laughed at one another. Sally turned the car into the wide entrance of the housing estate and Rebecca made gagging motions as she indicated the large tacky sign saying, ‘Whispering Pines Estate – The Peaceful Way of Life’. They drove along the new bitumen road and turned left into Radiata Drive. Sally stopped the car outside number 12 and Rebecca exhaled a low whistle as she looked at the house from the window of the car.
‘Now that’s a glorious new home,’ Rebecca said with a nasally voice as she and Sally looked at the carpet-like lawn, brick pillar mailbox and long low stretch of red brick house. White paint reflected the morning sun from the eaves.
‘Mmm. Suburban paradise,’ said Bec.
‘Don’t be so sarcastic,’ said Sally. She swivelled round to Harry who was sitting in the back seat of the car.
‘I don’t know where she gets it from. Do you?’
Harry smiled at Sally and shook his head. ‘It’s got me beat.’ For the entire journey from the hospital Harry had sat in silence, disfigured, looking like a returned soldier, his sleeve pinned up neatly by the nurses. Rebecca knew he was nervous about the family meeting. She was too. Best to get it out of the way as soon as possible, she thought, as she opened the car door.
She looked up to see the large front door of the house swing open. Trudy appeared in a floral dress. The basketball-shape of her unborn baby made her dress stick out like a shop awning. Danny toddled to the door on stumpy legs and, clinging to Trudy’s dress with a podgy little hand, peered at Sally’s car. In his other hand he held a big yellow plastic truck.
‘Ahh! It’s mini-Mick!’ said Rebecca. ‘Jeez. He’s been in a good paddock too!’ She eyed the toddler’s bulging tummy which stretched the Bananas in Pyjamas into very elongated shapes.
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