The Homestead Girls

by Fiona McArthur

  For the first time ever she had a good friend, almost a sister. Working and living with Daphne had made her consider other people and how she might possibly think of letting them into her life. It was a big shift from when she’d first arrived.

  She even toyed with the idea of letting Morgan in. Maybe stop the way the two of them were backing away like timid children from a game that might be dangerous.

  Maybe she needed to talk to Daphne about her relationship with Morgan. Or her non-relationship with Morgan. She wanted to tell her how he hadn’t kissed her goodnight after their first real date. How he’d escorted her home, and even though he’d come around to her side of the car when they arrived and held her door open, he hadn’t followed her to the steps. He hadn’t leaned in for a kiss, he’d just closed the door after her and, because she’d been waiting for him to make his move, she’d been surprised to hear him walking away.

  Who knew why? She didn’t. She may as well get over it. But perhaps she should start looking at the idea of male companionship. Put some feelers out. Heaven forbid, maybe even consider an internet dating site? Did they have those in Mica Ridge?

  The idea didn’t sit well and Billie went back to her paper until Soretta returned to the house.

  When Soretta arrived her grandfather and Lorna were still shooting tin cans off the orchard fence and the discussion of .22 calibres over .222 rifles drifted towards the house.

  Billie’s feet were resting on the verandah rail as she flicked through the ads.

  Soretta watched the two in the distance. ‘Apart from the subdued crack of the rifles it’s very peaceful here.’

  Billie grinned. ‘And your grandfather actually had to hold his stomach to laugh, but he’s looking stronger every day and the person he’s enjoying the most seems to be Lorna.’

  ‘Then that’s a good thing.’

  ‘She’s taking him gold prospecting tomorrow. Apparently, her son dropped around the metal detectors she and her husband used to use when they went camping.’

  Soretta glanced around to make sure Lorna was out of earshot. ‘Her son had afternoon tea with us yesterday. When Lorna went into the kitchen he was apologetic about Lorna being here, but I assured him we loved having her. Poor guy. His world has improved now the two women in his life have a bit of distance between them. He loves Lorna, but his wife was making life hell before Lorna left.’

  Soretta grinned. ‘Sometimes I can’t quite imagine Lorna doing all the things I know she’s done and then at other times I think of course she would. I can’t imagine anything fazing her.’ She thought about that. ‘Except maybe feeling like a third wheel.’

  ‘So it’s good she’s here. She’s pretty tough. I want to grow older like her. Speaking of growing older . . .’ Billie looked around for her daughter. ‘Where’s Mia?’

  ‘She’s taken one of the lambs back to the mob. Thankfully in the other direction to our marksmen. The lamb was getting too big for its boots and stealing the milk from the smaller ones.’

  ‘She’s enjoying the animals.’

  ‘Very much. And doing a good job helping around the station.’

  Billie examined Soretta’s face and it showed nothing but sincerity. But then when had Soretta ever said something she hadn’t meant? Now that Billie thought about it, Soretta seemed less drawn, calmer, more at peace. Maybe because her grandad was home and becoming stronger every day. Perhaps the steady income had lightened the load as well. She hoped it was both of those things.

  All Billie knew was that Soretta had become a role model Mia looked up to. If she hadn’t been so pleased to see the improvement in her daughter’s studies and attitude she might have been sick of the constant stream of ‘Soretta said’: ‘Soretta said the sheep are looking better since even that drop of rain.’ ‘Soretta said the drought might ease if the clouds look like that for the next three days.’ ‘Soretta said . . .’

  Billie smiled. ‘Mia thinks the sun shines out of you.’

  Soretta lifted her chin, and looked Billie in the eye. ‘She’s a help. All of you are a help, so thank you.’

  ‘We love being here. Your grandad seems to be getting over the shock of a posse of women in his house.’

  Soretta agreed. ‘It’s doing him good. I haven’t seen him so amused since before my gran was sick.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘By the way, I just wanted to mention there’s a new station hand arriving today. You might see his black car come and go. I doubt he’ll come near the house but his name is Joseph.’

  Billie winced. She’d thought for a moment Soretta had been going to say Jock. She shook off the past because there was movement at the steps. She and Soretta looked up as the two gun-toting cowboys arrived back on the verandah looking very pleased with themselves.

  ‘I hope you didn’t do any damage to your wound with the jolting of that rifle,’ Soretta said to her grandfather.

  ‘If Lorna can lean on a post then I can, too. So no harm done.’

  ‘And who won?’

  The shooters looked at each other. ‘We were evenly matched,’ Lorna said primly as she handed her weapon back to Lachlan to return to the gun safe.

  He took it and waggled his head at her. ‘Come on. I’ll show you where the key is. Now I know I can trust you, there’s a nice little four-ten shotgun I use for snakes around the house. Soretta doesn’t like guns. And there’re some shells there with rock salt that I use for scaring birds.’

  Two days later Mia was over at the sheep pen checking how Tucker the sheep was settling down.

  ‘Afternoon.’

  The man had appeared to her left out of the setting sun as Mia had been crouched down watching the sheep nose his way around the mob. She nearly lost her balance, so she straightened awkwardly to stand as he approached.

  He was an older man, very good-looking in an old movie-star way, with dark hair like hers. He had sunglasses on, which seemed odd as she was used to Klaus and Lachlan not wearing them under their hats.

  She had the feeling she’d seen him somewhere before. Then she remembered the crossing, and the car, the same one she’d seen leaving the station yesterday. Must be the new man Soretta told her about.

  She said, ‘Hello. Where’d you come from?’

  He pointed towards the bunkhouse. ‘Klaus asked me to check the gate was shut for this paddock because he could see the movement of the mob.’

  ‘You’re the new farm worker?’

  ‘Joseph.’ He held out his hand and reluctantly she took it. His fingers were softer than she expected, as if he was new to hard work. She dropped his hand fairly quickly.

  ‘I’d better get back. Soretta told me to be fast.’

  ‘She’s a doer, that one. Young for a boss lady.’

  ‘She’s a star.’ Unconsciously, Mia wiped her hands on her jeans. ‘See ya.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Mia. Bye.’ She turned and hurried over to the bike, but before she started it he said, ‘How old are you?’

  She didn’t want to answer but she made the mistake of looking at him. Maybe she should have just pretended she didn’t hear and turned on the ignition. But birthdays were hard not to mention, even to people who made you feel uncomfortable. ‘Seventeen next month.’

  He smiled at her and she smiled back awkwardly. He looked as though she’d done something to please him, which was really odd. She started the quad. Gave a wave without looking at him and drove away.

  Back at the house Mia passed Soretta picking lemons off the tree. They were having fish tonight. ‘Who’s the guy with Klaus?’ Mia asked as she began to help her fill the small basket.

  ‘Joseph Porter. Casual farm hand.’

  ‘There’s something familiar about him.’

  ‘Not to me. I’ve never seen him around before. Apparently he came across from South Australia looking for work. Where’d you see him?’

  ‘Klaus sent him over to see why the mob was shifting when I was checking on Tucker being back with them.�
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  ‘Klaus’s doing well. Not sure if this bloke is going to turn out as good, but we get lots of transients.’

  ‘Seems a bit flash for a farm worker,’ Mia said.

  ‘He does.’ They’d filled the basket and turned towards the house together. ‘Stay away from him.’

  Mia turned to her mentor in mild surprise. ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Soretta looked thoughtfully over her shoulder. ‘As soon as they fix the pens I’ll ask him to leave.’

  ‘Because I said he was flash?’

  ‘My business.’ And that was the end of that.

  ‘Okay.’ Mia shrugged and then went on, checking the house to make sure no one could hear her. ‘Speaking of strange behaviour, did you notice Lorna looks a bit vague this afternoon?’

  Soretta looked up, and thought about it before nodding. ‘She said a couple of odd things. Maybe she isn’t well. I’ll mention it to Billie.’

  At the Flying Doctor Base, Billie and Daphne were flying back to Boorenji. Daphne had asked if she could swap her shift so she could go on this particular run. They were delivering a special person back home.

  Half an hour later a huddle of waiting passengers stood beside the plane. Belle looked anxiously at the aircraft and chewed her lip. Aunty May stoically avoided any glances towards the thing that was going to carry her so high across the orange-and-red plains. While baby Anthony, oblivious in his aunty’s safe arms, made the snoring noise that most prem babies, even when they had grown up a little, seemed to make when they slept.

  Daphne looked forward to a good catch-up with Barbara Tomkins—they hadn’t had much of a chance at the bus accident—so she could find out how everything was going when she brought Gwyn in for a check-up, and she knew Billie felt the same. This was the community stuff she loved to bits and she knew it was becoming important to Billie, too.

  She’d packed another bag of mandarins because the day promised to be a scorcher despite the thunderstorm last night. The tiny drops of rain they’d had were already evaporating off the hard ground.

  ‘All aboard,’ Rex said cheerfully and sent Daphne a smile that made her own mouth stretch wide instinctively.

  She couldn’t quite believe Rex was interested, but the days were counting down to Broken Hill Races, and though she’d bought a lot of clothes with Billie’s help—too blinking many—she needed to sort out what she was going to wear. Lorna had booked her into her hairdresser’s for a style cut with an English girl after work today, and she was nervous about that, too.

  Rex had mentioned he’d booked the rooms a couple of months ago before the best ones were taken. In spite of a severe talking to with herself, she couldn’t help being incredibly curious about who he’d planned to take and why they’d cancelled.

  ‘You coming, Daphne?’ Billie’s amused voice whispered in her ear and she blinked and returned to the real world. She was being silly, and distracted, and that wasn’t like her, she admonished herself as she marched up the steps to help settle their passengers as comfortably as she could in the small space.

  Anthony slept through the whole flight. Belle had her eyes closed but they were so tightly squeezed together that, along with the way her nails dug into the seatbelt, nobody considered her asleep. Aunty May had initially started the flight peering cautiously out of the window but after the first ten minutes had her nose pressed against the glass as she tried to see all there was to see from the vantage point of an eagle.

  When they arrived the old container was still sitting there under its roof and the air-conditioner had been turned on so it was cool inside the consulting rooms. Aunty May, carrying Anthony, who had slept the entire flight, nodded her thanks, and ushered Belle towards a huddle of waiting women standing back from the main centre, and they were swallowed up in the group.

  There was Barbara Tomkins and a happy looking Gwyn. Daphne hurried towards them with a smile and Billie was right behind her.

  FOURTEEN

  The next morning Lorna woke to golden rays of sunlight peeping through the curtains and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes blinked fuzzily only to stiffen in alarm moments later.

  Was that a bat up there in the corner?

  The light shifted and twisted into another bizarre shape, this time a rat, and she moaned, and then it, too, disappeared. She backed up against the bedhead, clutching the sheet to her thin chest. She stared at the painted pressed metal of the ceiling and saw a pattern she didn’t recognise. In fact, she didn’t recognise the room.

  A cold trickle of fear slid down her neck and she glanced quickly to the left and the right. She was alone. She didn’t understand.

  The first big rays of sun came into the room and that wasn’t right either. Her hand rose and clutched at her throat and her heart felt like a landed fish flopping in her chest. Nothing looked right. Not the ceiling, not the curtain-framed window, not the cast-iron bed she was lying in.

  She could hear voices outside her bedroom door. Murmuring words she couldn’t distinguish, but they struck cold daggers of terror deep into her chest. Who were they? Where was she? She desperately needed to go to the toilet, but she didn’t know where it was or even if the people who were outside would let her leave this strange room to find it.

  The ball of fear rose up from her stomach, choking her, and she shivered in the warm air while she frantically searched the room for Wallace. Then she caught sight of his watch, the one she’d worn since he’d . . . ? Died! The thought crashed into her as she examined the timepiece lying peacefully on the side table that wasn’t hers, and a lone tear slid from the corner of her eye.

  Slowly, very slowly, most of it came back.

  Blue Hills Station. Daphne. Soretta and Lachlan. Billie and Mia. She’d lived here for a month—how could she forget?

  Then an even more frightening thought seeped insidiously into her suddenly freezing bones. Is that how it had started for dear Wallace? Maybe her daughter-in-law was right and she was going mad. Alzheimer’s. Dementia. Crackers.

  Deep, lonely sadness swamped her. And a grim determination to not be a burden on anyone. She’d have to leave her new friends after finding the first place she’d been happy in since Wallace had died.

  Her galloping heart finally quietened and she climbed unsteadily out of bed. She listened at the door but the voices had gone. Lorna pulled on her dressing gown and shuffled to the bathroom with her head down.

  Daphne dusted the blusher over her new matt foundation and decided it wasn’t too bad. She hadn’t worn much makeup since her divorce—the heat out here would probably melt it off anyway—but Billie had been very patient with her instructions.

  The new brand was subtle and she did feel it made her skin more even-toned. While she finished her makeup, Billie was at the bed helping her pack a soft carry-on bag for the weekend at the races with Rex.

  No one had done that for her in the last twenty years. And not just packed, the outfits had been mapped out, colour coordinated and accessorised with military precision. There was even a chart taped to the lid in case Daphne couldn’t remember.

  That had been Billie’s suggestion when Daphne had lamented she’d forget what went with what. So nothing was left to chance. Daphne’s lack of confidence had been dealt with. Years of uncertainty with fashion were at an end. It felt pretty darn good to not have to stress. All she’d needed was a stylist like Billie. Or a mother. As if on cue a butterfly flew in and out of the open verandah door.

  Funny how she could remember so clearly. Her mother’s breathing ragged against the peach-coloured sheets—she could remember the exact colour of those, too—and a butterfly had flown out at the same time as her mother’s last breath had ended on a sigh.

  Twenty years ago she’d stared after that butterfly, refused to look towards the bed, to believe it had finally happened and the one person who loved her had gone, until one of the nurses had taken her hand and cried with her.

  ‘You okay, Daphne?’ Billie’s voice broke through Daphne’s memories.<
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  She shook herself. ‘Sure. Of course. Did you see the butterfly?’

  ‘No.’ Billie turned to look but it was gone.

  Daphne sighed and lifted her head. ‘There was one like that the day my mum died. I always thought she floated out the window after it.’ She couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out. How embarrassing.

  Billie’s eyes softened and that made her feel like howling. Nobody had looked at her like that for a long time, either. She was acting like a child. Get a grip. Her nerves for this upcoming weekend were almost too much and she wasn’t sure this was all worth it. She wasn’t that unhappy on her own. Especially now that she had friends.

  Billie looked across. ‘Did you travel much as a child? Your dad being a politician?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘When Mum was alive she preferred to stay at home. With me.’

  And her father had always said business was no place for a child.

  At home with Mum had been the best times she could remember. The times when she’d felt special and truly connected because her mother had seemed to understand her daughter was shy and hated the limelight. Her mother had been the only person to love her as she was, with all her faults.

  She watched Billie fold the grey crinkley dress that seemed to float over the hips and bring out her best points. Billie had great taste in clothes, and shopping had been fun for the first time ever.

  ‘Your mum was young when she died, you said?’

  Daphne took her eyes from the dress. ‘Yep. Lymphoma. Then multiple strokes at thirty-four. She kept having them, there was nothing the doctors could do, though I remember the drip and the fact that she seemed to just fade away. I was ten and she never spoke again after the first stroke, but she knew me when she looked at me.’

  Billie shook her head. ‘Terrible for a child to watch.’

  Yep. Her voice dropped. ‘It was like watching the most beautiful ice sculpture in the world melt in front of my eyes.’

  And because Billie didn’t say anything to pull her back, Daphne remembered the time when she’d watched her mother waste away more every day. ‘The nurses my father hired to care for her were remarkable. And that’s probably why I wanted to become a nurse.’ They had included her where busier women would have finished their task more quickly without the awkward help of a young daughter. At least her father had done something right.