by Juanita Kees
Tameka squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the essence of Harley, a comfort she’d take home with her and hold close tonight as she waited for the inevitable.
‘I’ve got to go.’
His arms closed around her and he hugged her tight. ‘I know.’ With a kiss to her crown and a sigh that echoed through her own chest, he released her. ‘I’ll drive.’
Chapter 6
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Dad, angrier and more drunk than usual, staggered into the homestead doorway as she slammed the door closed on the ute. Great.
‘I had to wait for the hose. I’m going to fit it now and then get dinner for you.’
‘Well you’d better bloody get a move on, girl. I’m hungry.’ He stamped back into the house, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.
Hungry and angry so that he could push the food around his plate and bitch that it wasn’t hot enough, too salty or tasted like ten-day-old dog food. She could serve up caviar and Moet, and it still wouldn’t be good enough.
It had always been that way. Even while her mum was there. He’d been grumpy and quick-tempered over little things and picky about food.
Tameka had disappointed him in so many ways. She wasn’t a boy. In his opinion, she couldn’t cook for shit. As a farmer, she was pretty average. And when he’d caught her screwing Harley Baker, her mother had left her father. An unforgivable sin that had nothing at all to do with the way he treated his wife when she failed to produce the son he was so obsessed with having. On the very edge of reason that made no sense at all. Nothing about the way life had turned out made sense.
According to him, they were the cause of all his heartache, the reason for all his failures. A bad daughter and a terrible wife even when they’d tried so hard to be good ones.
Running the hose through her hands, she thought how not so long ago Harley’s hands had been on the rubber, on her hips and back. How in that one short moment, she’d felt the stirring of being human again. Of being able to feel something other than resentment, defeat and the ache of loss.
But Harley was next door doing his own thing and he wasn’t hers any longer. All she had was her dream, one that could never come true.
As she fitted the hose to the seeder, topped up the hydraulic oil in the tank and tested the pressure, she thought on her pipedream about the organic vegetables she’d grow in a section of the field and the greenhouses she could build.
She could restore the gardens to what they’d once been and turn the homestead into a cooking school where she could create the tasty, imaginative dishes she wanted to for an appreciative audience.
For now she was a guardian for the land she loved so much. She couldn’t leave, not with the hope in her heart that one day she might inherit it and make that dream come true. She had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no future to make her feet walk the road out of Wongan Creek.
This was the only job she’d ever had. Living in the city held no appeal. She belonged on the land where she could get her hands dirty and see the fruits of her efforts sprouting from the soil.
Loki’s excited bark reached her ears. Tameka raised her head to watch the dog chase down the rope Harley tossed for him. Harley lifted a hand in a wave. She didn’t return it. Best not to encourage him to think that today’s slip of judgement on her part could lead to their friendship, or anything else, being rekindled.
She tucked the wrench into her back pocket and wiped her hands on the rag she’d left on the seat of the seeder. With one last look at Harley, she turned her back on him and walked away to the house.
She’d like nothing more than a shower and some alone time, but Dad wouldn’t have the patience for that. She needed to get some food into him so he wasn’t running on alcohol fumes alone.
In the kitchen, Tameka opened the freezer and studied the meagre contents. Her food budget didn’t stretch far, and since Dad refused to support the local grocer in Wongan Creek, she had to make a monthly run to Perth.
The temptation to keep driving when she made those trips … but Dad would find her and bring her back if she did, no doubt about it. And the consequences wouldn’t be worth it.
This late in the month they were running low on everything. She liked to cook, to create, but Dad wasn’t exactly an appreciative recipient of anything that wasn’t the standard fare of overcooked meat, pasta and potatoes.
The menu tonight would be spaghetti bolognaise or shepherd’s pie because all she had left was mince, pasta and potatoes. She pulled out the packet of meat and tossed it into the microwave to defrost, thinking of all the food still in the back of the ute after Harley had taken his share, despite her insistence he take it all. Food that would go to waste because she couldn’t bring it to the table. Dad would never eat it. His mood meant she’d be cleaning most of anything she presented off the floor anyway when he lost his shit and threw the plate down.
What turned an already angry man so bitter? She’d searched for the answers through boxes stored in the shed out back, but found no explanation for the lack of family photos or clues to his past.
Unlike almost everyone in Wongan Creek, he hadn’t grown up here. He’d arrived in the district an older man with his pregnant, much younger wife in tow. She’d heard the stories, the whispers about how he’d come by his Vietnamese wife.
He’d stayed out of the community, only interacting with the Bakers and even that relationship had been tenuous. If it hadn’t been for Mum and Shirley Baker having the odd cuppa together and the fact the family had shared the dam’s water supply, there probably wouldn’t have been a friendship at all. Louis Chalmers didn’t have friends, he had associates. And even those were few.
Tameka sighed as she put a pan on the cooktop and lit the gas, going through the motions to cook the meal. Truth was her dad was a bit of a mystery man.
He never talked about his family or his childhood, and he’d never been the kind of father to spend time with his child. He’d barely spoken to Mum or her unless it was to deliver an order. A man so far removed from society’s version of a father, he might as well not be human. Sometimes he wasn’t.
She dropped handfuls of spaghetti into a pot of boiling water on the back burner and stirred it. The heavy thump of boots moved down the hallway to the kitchen.
‘What the fuck is taking you so long? Can’t you even cook a bloody meal, you stupid girl?’
‘It’ll be ready soon, Dad. I’ve only just started it. Why don’t you go sit in the lounge room and I’ll bring it through when it’s ready? The news will be on.’ She turned from the cooktop to face him.
‘Don’t bloody patronise me, girl. I don’t want to watch the God damn news. I want to eat.’
His breath reeked of a mixture of stale and fresh booze as he shouted the words in her face. Tameka’s stomach dropped at the angry tone and rough grip on her arm. She’d be wearing bruises tomorrow. What scared her more than the anger was the drunken crazy in his eyes, intensified since the last time.
‘It’s almost ready.’ Heat from the open flame licked at her skin as he backed her up against the range.
‘I want it now.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Tameka held up the spoon she’d been using to stir the spaghetti between them. ‘Please let go of my arm, Dad. I’ll give you your food now.’ The heat at her back became a sting and the smell of burning filled her nose. ‘Dad, you need to step back, please. My shirt has caught on the flame.’
She tried to keep her voice calm even when a scream built in her throat as the hot edge of the pan bit into her back and fingers of flame scratched at her skin.
He raised his hand, palm up. She pulled back to avoid the slap she saw coming, the pan behind her went flying, the bottle of oil fell over as it connected and the open flame flared.
Tameka staggered sideways, dropped on the floor and rolled to kill the flames that ate at her back. She prayed he’d come to his senses and reach for the fire extinguisher as she lay in the kitchen doorway
with her back stinging. Instead, the steel cap of his boot connected hard with her temple as he stepped over her and walked away.
Pain seared through her head and back. The flames grew higher over the cooktop, dancing and licking at the walls as she rolled over onto her side and her world faded away.
***
Harley rubbed at the headache behind his eyes. The cost of the damaged crop had tipped Bakers Hill into the red so far it would take him two seasons to recover it. And now with the additional cost of new rhizomes added in for next year and a crop that wouldn’t reach maturity for a while, the future looked pretty dismal. He should be angry with Tameka for continuing the practice of using herbicides, but after seeing her today …
Loki whined and Harley transferred his rub to the dog’s ears. ‘Don’t know how we’re going to wriggle out of this one, boy.’
Loki barked and scratched at the floor. He ran to the window and back again.
Harley frowned. ‘What’s up, boy? Need to pee? Jeez, didn’t you pee enough when we were tossing the rope around? You pissed up against every bloody tree on the property twice over, but I guess we can take a walk before I warm us up some dinner. Pity we couldn’t talk Tikki into that burger, hey?’
Loki ran out through the door of the study, alternately barking and whining. Harley lifted his jacket from the peg, pulled it on and threw open the front door. The dog tore off across the field heading straight for the gate onto the Chalmers’ property.
The smell of smoke hit Harley first followed by the sight of an orange glow that didn’t belong to the remnants of the sunset that lit the sky. Thick black smoke rolled out from the roof of the Chalmers homestead, fingers of flames starting to creep up over the old iron panels.
And Jesus, the wind had picked up to blustery sending those suckers flaring all over the place.
‘Fuck!’
Thanking his great grandfather’s foresight for building the house on Bakers Hill close to the homestead on Golden Acres so they could share a view of the dam, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled triple zero as he ran for the shed. Jesus, if they weren’t within sight of each other, he’d never have seen the flames.
When the call centre answered, he gave directions for fire and ambulance as he kick-started his bike with the phone between his ear and elbow.
Panic seized him as he raced after Loki, relieved he hadn’t had time to weld the gate shut between their properties and it stood open now, allowing him quick access to the Chalmers’ field.
Emergency services were at least twenty minutes away. He had no choice but to do what he could alone. He took the shortest route to the dam pump, switched the sequence to garden irrigation and set it going with a whack on the button. The sprinklers sprang to life erratically on the dry, overgrown bush garden that surrounded the Chalmers’ homestead. Fear mixed with the panic raging through his system. Every second counted.
If it did little to save the house, the pump would fill the spare water tank for the firies to use when they got there. In the meantime, it would keep the dry brush around the walls from catching alight and spreading the fire.
Harley geared up across the field, searching for signs of life outside the house. Nothing. The flames had taken hold at the rear right-hand side of the house. The kitchen and mudroom end. Killing the engine, he dropped his bike and ran around the side to turn off the gas supply.
The heat off the side wall sent steam rising as the water from the sprinklers made contact. Damn the old bugger for being such a tight arse and not installing fire suppression systems in his roof like Dad had.
Harley ran back around to the front of the house through the sprinklers, allowing the water to soak his clothes and ignoring the chill the wind sent through his body. Loki bark-howled and pawed at the front door.
‘Is there someone in there, boy?’
Loki was the best bloody tracking dog in the world and if he smelled something human, Harley believed him. No time to waste. Where the hell were Tameka and her dad? Terror clawed at his gut as he touched the door handle, the memory of another time, another fire burning in his mind.
Cold. Thank God. The fire hadn’t reached beyond the kitchen. Yet. He fought to remember what he knew about backdraft and feeding fire with too much to lose if Tameka was trapped inside the house.
‘Stay, Loki.’ He pushed open the door. ‘Tikki?’ Smoke clogged his lungs and an eerie orange glow filled the dark and gloomy hallway. Heat sucked the air from his chest as he dropped to his knees. ‘Mr C!’
Dragging up the memory of the house floor plan, he crawled his way down the hallway to where the smoke billowed through the doorway stinging his eyes. Better check there first where he had the least amount of time. Already his clothes were drying out.
He stood crouched against the heat and covered his mouth with his arm as he headed for the source of the fire. Through the haze of smoke and flicker of flames he saw Tameka near the door, lying on her side. Dead still. Like Ryan. No. Outside, Loki howled.
Harley moved fast, dropping to his knees to do a quick assessment of her injuries before hauling her up into his arms and running, the smell of smoke, burning oil and timber following in his wake. He cleared the danger zone and headed for the creek with Loki on his heels, his lungs burning with the effort.
On the grassy bank, he checked her pulse and breathing. Shallow, erratic. Pain squeezed his heart. Please don’t let her die.
He rolled her onto her side and placed her in the recovery position, her body limp. In the fading light, his stomach clenched at the sight of her burnt shirt. Singed holes where the flames had eaten at the material revealed red raw burns. He’d seen the blisters forming all over her back when he’d found her in the kitchen.
‘Tikki, wake up. Where’s your dad?’
Tameka moaned, the sound raspy.
‘Can you hear me, Tikki?’
With darkness descending quickly as the sun set, he could barely see her face. All he had was the residual light from the fire. Damn, he wished he’d had time to grab a torch.
How long had she been unconscious? He stroked her short hair and ran his fingers over her face, his throat burning from more than smoke inhalation. She stirred and her eyes flickered open.
‘Baby, can you hear me?’
‘Yeah. Hurts.’
‘I know, I know. Ambulance is on the way. Where’s your dad?’
She coughed and drew in a short breath. ‘Gone.’
‘So he’s not in the house?’ Harley looked back as the flames roared through the mud room behind the kitchen, well and truly taking hold with the wind up its arse.
‘He left.’
‘Okay, good. Did you hit your head?’
The glimpse of the blood at her temple before he’d swept her up and run had him worried. Concussion at the very least. Her eyes fluttered closed and a tear leaked down her cheek, but she didn’t answer.
‘Stay with me, baby.’
God damn it, he wasn’t prepared for this to happen again. Too far to carry her to the house and he didn’t want to leave her alone to get supplies. And the memories. Jesus, the memories. It had happened again.
‘I have to get your shirt away from those burns, Tikki, okay? I have to take it off otherwise there’s a risk of infection. But only if I can. If it’s stuck to your skin, I can’t. I’ll cover you with my jacket so you don’t get cold.’
Keep talking. Walk her through it. Don’t think. Don’t think about Ryan, also burnt, also with a head injury.
Ryan—his big brother, his hero. Burnt. Dead. Gone forever. For God’s sake, he couldn’t lose Tikki too. His chest tightened forcing out a hacking cough.
Harley slipped off his jacket and shivered against the cut of the wind. Carefully, he peeled away Tameka’s shirt, checking her skin for burns as he went. Only her back, not her hands, and only a little. A few second, maybe third-degree burns.
He sucked in a breath of relief and ended up coughing smoke from his lungs. No bra. A lifesave
r. Polyester crap that would have melted to her skin. He dropped her shirt on the ground and picked up his jacket, throwing it over her. His ears strained to catch the sounds of sirens, his eyes searched for Louis Chalmers, and pain gripped his chest. He didn’t want to lose someone he loved to fire again.
Chapter 7
Tameka shivered under the warmth of Harley’s jacket. Her head throbbed and her lungs burned from the smoke. Thoughts churned in her mind. Dad had left her to die. Where was he now?
Her fingers curled around Harley’s, torn between telling him and protecting her father who didn’t deserve to be protected. Clinging to hope that somewhere inside him there was still a little good because he was the only parent she had left.
The fleeting memories of the father who had done nice things once or twice, a long time ago when she was little and he wasn’t drunk all the time, only sometimes. But if she dobbed …
Her thoughts muddled as a wave of pain reverberated through her head and darkness hovered at the edge of her consciousness.
Another day. Another fire. Ryan playing in the shed. Her father’s roar of laughter. What she’d seen from behind the tree. The dark memory of a young child resurfacing, regenerating then flitting away on a stab of pain. She moaned against it.
Harley’s fingers squeezed hers. ‘It’s okay, Tikki. You’ll be okay.’
Her eyelids flickered. In the distance, embers shot into the sky as the roof over the mudroom caved into the flames. Dad would blame her. Tell the investigators it was her fault, her lousy cooking skills, her clumsiness that had started the fire.
‘Help will be here soon.’
She wanted to tell him to go, to save the homestead, fight the fire as best he could with the garden hose. But she couldn’t let go of his hand and the warmth of his body close to hers as he shielded her from the bite of the wind and bad memories.
The press of his lips against her knuckles had her eyes fluttering closed. Soft, reassuring. If he knew of the suppressed memory that had surfaced lying there in the burning kitchen, he’d hate her. There’d be more than just the Big Bang to come between them. And now, today, she’d almost died the same way Ryan had.