Frank Trumble’s words played over and over in Nina’s head as she pulled on a singlet and jeans. She collapsed back on the bed. Means, motive and opportunity. Dad had all three. They’d left the lawyer’s office more worried than when they’d walked in.
Up until now, they’d all been so desperate to find Max. Of course they had, but what if he really was lying dead somewhere out in the wild unforgiving marshlands? Circumstances so far had conspired to make her father look guilty, but finding a body might make things far worse. Maybe it would be best if they never found Max. A sudden shaft of shame prickled her scalp. Best for Dad perhaps. Not best for little Sophie. Not best for Ric, waiting for news back at Donnalee, half mad with grief and worry.
Nina looked in the sock drawer. Empty. She pulled on the socks from yesterday. More and more, her interests and Ric’s were shifting apart. What did they really have in common anyway? Nothing. Nothing except some ancient history and an irrational attraction that wouldn’t put them down or let them go.
A knock came at the door, making her jump. ‘Nine? I’ve got you a cup of tea.’
‘Come in.’ The mug was reassuringly warm and solid in her hand. Lockie rubbed his back. ‘You’re a cruel woman, making me sleep in the spare room. That bed’s got no springs left.’
‘Sook.’
‘Want breakfast?’ he asked. ‘Thought I’d whip up some eggs.’
‘You go ahead. I don’t have the stomach for it.’ She trailed down the hall after him, taking tiny sips of the scalding tea.
Lockie buttered the pan and took a carton of eggs from the fridge. ‘Any sausages left?’ She shook her head and slumped down in a chair. He broke six eggs into a bowl and whisked them with the practised, even strokes of a man at home in the kitchen.
‘I said I didn’t want any.’
He grinned. ‘Who said any of this is for you?’
How could he be so cheerful or so hungry? But it was nice to have him there. She realised, with a strange twinge in her chest, that she was spending more time with Lockie now they’d broken up.
‘Why don’t you come with me?’ He poured the eggs into the pan. ‘Stay in the car while the auction’s going on. Then rub it in James Langley’s face when they knock the place down to me.’
‘No.’ She heaved a deep, disappointed breath. ‘It’s safer if I stay here, in case James sees me beforehand.’
‘Righto.’ He sat down to breakfast and wolfed it down with astonishing speed. ‘Any last-minute instructions, boss?’
‘No, you know what you’re doing. We’ve gone over it a hundred times.’ She looked around her kitchen, took in all the things that were so dear to her, Lockie included. ‘Thanks, Lockie. Really. I’m very grateful. Oh, and that figure I told you? That’s my absolute limit. Don’t get carried away and raise it, no matter what. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ He wiped his hands on the tea towel, drained his tea and stood up. ‘But I’m not the impulsive one around here. Hate to think what’d happen if you got into a bidding war with a cotton farmer. I reckon that absolute limit would fly out the window.’
‘If it was me, I’d probably risk losing Billabong and Red Gums. Definitely best I’m not there. But just the same, the sitting around waiting’s going to kill me.’
Lockie bent towards her, as if for a kiss, then paused and straightened back up. ‘See you.’ He put on his hat. ‘Stay busy. It’ll help.’
The interminable morning wore on. Stay busy. She didn’t really have a choice. So much had been left undone lately. Nina collected a shovel and mattock from the tool shed, loaded them onto the bike and headed to the main pumphouse. When it rained, the floor always flooded. She’d been meaning to dig a drainage ditch to divert the run-off, but the idea of rain had seemed farfetched for so long . . . Still, even this mother of a drought couldn’t last forever and when it broke, she intended to be ready. Nina squinted into the light, looking across the sluggish, shallow water to the north side of the river. The shadow of a movement caught her eye. Ric? No, just a steer sliding down the broken bank for a drink. But the idea of Ric wouldn’t go away, like he’d set up camp in her head.
Nina grabbed the mattock, weighing the comforting heft of it, running her thumb down the smooth handle before going to work. It was hard yakka. The ground was bone dry, and the ditch needed to be a long one. After an hour of digging in full sun, raising the mattock high above her shoulder and sending it crashing down to break the earth, her back ached and she could taste dirt in her mouth and nose. Dust mixed with sweat to sting her eyes and itch her cheeks. It worked its way beneath her nails, down her T-shirt and into her pants. It got down her boots, into her socks and ground between her toes.
But Nina barely noticed how sore and filthy and tired she was because she wasn’t really there any more. She was daydreaming of the evening river, of herself naked in the dim circle of light. Thought and feeling converged into one single stream of memory – down on the cool sand with Ric, his skin pressed against her, his heart within reach.
Nina hurled the mattock away. It was no good; she couldn’t concentrate. Maybe she’d finish this later, inspect the olive trees instead. Leaving the tools where they lay, Nina took the bike back to the house and saddled Monty. She trotted along the rows, noting with satisfaction the healthy silver foliage and heavy crop almost ripe for harvest.
The big grey wouldn’t settle, fussing and tossing his head, setting his jaw against the bit. ‘You bugger,’ she said, losing her hat as he cantered sideways like a crab. Impossible to check the crop like this. She swore and gave him his head. Monty straightened, accelerating into a gallop, head low and ears back. The sensation of speed, the wind whipping her cheeks, the raw equine energy surging through her legs, her seat, her entire body – everything combined to wipe out the worries of the previous few weeks. Who cared about Max, or Ric, or even Billabong? All that mattered was this moment, the adrenaline pumping through her body, and the flesh-and-blood animal racing madly beneath her.
The horse veered through the trees, forcing her to duck branches. She flattened her body along Monty’s neck and spine, merging into his straining body, becoming one with her mount. Out onto the airstrip now, and Nina shut her eyes against the sun glare and urged him on. They tore blindly down the runway, still accelerating until she was sure they would take off and soar skywards. The world was nothing but a raw, moving blur of pounding hooves and straining lungs, smelling of leather and sweat. Nina whooped out loud with the sheer joy of it.
She sensed the swerve before it came. Felt it in his bunching muscles and gathering bones, saw it in the angle of his ears. Hell, she could just about read his mind. When Monty lunged sideways Nina was ready. She gripped hard with her legs, moved with him in perfect balance, steadied his hammering heart with a reassuring hand on the reins. Her horse came to a shuddering stop, forelegs spread, sides heaving, neck lathered with sweat. A mob of grey kangaroos ahead of them bounded for cover. So that’s what had made him shy. Nina let the reins go loose and leaned forward, hugging his damp neck. ‘You finished?’ He snorted and she took that for a yes. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘And thank you, Monty. I needed that.’
It was getting on to noon before the phone finally rang. She took it from her pocket and stared at it, hardly daring to answer. Lockie. ‘Hello?’
‘No go,’ he said. ‘The bids went over your limit.’
Her stomach lurched and she blinked stupidly at the phone, unable to process what she was hearing.
‘Nina, are you there?’
‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I’m here.’
‘It was a bugger of a thing to happen.’
‘Who?’ she asked. ‘Who bought it?’
‘Two blokes went head to head, had themselves a bit of a bidding war. I dropped out early. If you ask me, it went for more than it was worth.’
‘Who?’ she said. ‘Just tell me.’
An interminable pause. Why couldn’t he just spit it out?
‘Ric Bonelli,’ Lockie said at last.
‘Ric Bonelli bought Billabong Bend.’
The news took a while to sink in. ‘That’s wonderful news,’ she said. ‘The place is safe then.’
‘Hate to burst your bubble, Nine,’ he said. ‘But seems to me you’re taking a lot for granted. Billabong’s prime cotton country.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Nina. ‘Ric would never do anything to harm the wetlands.’ She was sure of it.
CHAPTER 29
Nina and Ric sat drinking beer out on the back porch at Donnalee as the afternoon shadows lengthened. Sophie was playing circus games with the geese, tempting them with treats to make them hop through a hula hoop. Jinx tried to snatch a tidbit of bread and found himself on the receiving end of Odette’s wicked beak. He yelped and made a beeline for the safety of the verandah, trying to hide himself beneath Nina’s chair.
‘They’re so big now,’ she said, admiring the graceful birds. ‘Sophie’s done an amazing job.’
‘She has.’ Ric’s fingers reached for hers and they sat, side by side, holding hands like children. ‘Sophie loves those birds more than me, more than anybody.’
‘Any news of her mother?’
‘Rachael’s doing a little better.’
‘Must be so hard,’ she said. ‘First her mother and now her grandfather. That’s a lot of loss for a little girl to deal with.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Let’s change the subject. No more sadness today.’
‘You’re right. We should be celebrating.’ Nina pointed at a curved streak of cloud in the sky. ‘See there? It’s Eva smiling down from heaven.’
‘I’ll look after Billabong, Nina,’ said Ric. ‘I swear I will. In a year or two you won’t know the place.’
‘I’ve got some ideas myself,’ she said. ‘I already drew up a five-year plan. To rehabilitate the marshes. Remove the weeds and feral animals. Get a full-scale revegetation program up and running. I’d like to take a biological inventory, do some trapping too, see what we’ve really got.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Working together like this, it’s a dream come true.’
‘I’ll work day and night, if that’s what it takes.’ His voice was husky with emotion. ‘For you, for Sophie. Together we’ll make Billabong the best bloody farm in the whole district. Better than Macquarie Station even.’
‘You can run cattle in the back blocks,’ said Nina. ‘But the marshes are off limits, right?’ Silence. She studied his face. Something was wrong. She repeated her question, and still there was no response. ‘What’s going on, Ric?’
‘There’ll have to be some changes at Billabong.’ He couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘The loan to buy the place is conditional on converting it to cotton.’
Nina’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘It’s not as bad as you think. I’ve been looking into this. There are better ways to grow cotton, more modern ways. Ways that are kinder to the land.’ He shifted nervously in his seat. ‘Dad’s already bought a heap of a new kind of cottonseed. Genetically modified to use less water, to resist pests and diseases so you don’t have to use as many chemicals. I’ve been reading up on the latest irrigation methods too. Some blokes are moving away from furrows to bankless channels and drip systems. And I was thinking of fencing off some parts, like you’ve done at Red Gums. Leaving them natural.’
Nina sat in stunned silence, a kernel of white-hot anger taking root in her heart. She tried to imagine the Ric that she’d known as a child, the river boy, doing this. No, that boy had vanished, and the person sitting next to her couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d spent years in the planning. ‘You’ll still have to clear,’ she said. ‘You’ll still have to drain swampland. You’ll still be destroying one of the rarest inland deltas in the entire country.’
‘I’ll be careful, I promise,’ said Ric. ‘Rivers aren’t rocket science.’
‘No. They’re a lot more complicated.’
‘Nina . . . I don’t have a choice.’
‘That’s crap. There’s always a choice.’ Her head hurt with a furious resentment that overrode her love for him. ‘There’s no kind way to grow cotton out here, full stop. It’s bad enough what you’re doing at Donnalee, but if you try it at Billabong? You’d better fucking well watch out. I’ll stop you, or die trying. Come on, Jinx.’ Her vision was clouding and she couldn’t see properly. Everything was misty. The dog, sensing trouble, scrambled for Nina’s ute.
Sophie stopped her goose show. ‘Dad? Nina? What’s wrong?’
‘Ask your father,’ said Nina over her shoulder as she reached the vehicle. What a fool she’d been. What a first-class fool. Lockie and Dad? They’d been right all along about Ric, about the whole Bonelli family. Why the hell hadn’t she listened to them? Well, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. She was done.
CHAPTER 30
‘You’re going to school, and that’s final. Now go get dressed and pack your bag.’ Sophie threw Ric a mutinous look, then disappeared down the hall. Ric went to the kitchen and made her a vegemite sandwich for lunch. He was more out of his depth than ever when it came to his daughter. Ric cling-wrapped the sandwich and added a small packet of Twisties and a mandarin to the lunch box before snapping on the lid.
The geese started up an excited honking, like they did when they were let out. He dashed down the hall. Curtains waved at the open window and her room was empty. Damn it. He sank down on the bed. Don’t react, he told himself. Take a moment to calm down.
When he raised his head, something caught his eye. A coloured-in envelope on the dresser, addressed in a childish scrawl. Sophie’s latest letter to her mother. He picked it up, turned it over, ran his finger along the smooth, gummed edge of its unsealed flap. Then he pulled out the two sheets of paper, covered in hearts and flowers.
Dear Mum,
I miss you. Its been a long time since you sent me a letter. hope you get better soon. my geese can fly. Im glad today is friday. I hate it here. My teacher thinks I’m stupid. poppi’s gone and so is nina. Its just Dad and me now and he doesn’t care. He’s even forgotten about my horse. Its hot in my room. Is it hot in your room? I hope you have a fan. I don’t. I would run away like last time but I don’t know where you are and I cant leave my geese anyway. They depend on me. I love you VERY much. XXXOOO
goodbye and sweet dreams,
love from your special girl Sophie
PS I lost my tooth in pizza.
Ric slipped the letter back into the envelope. Then he took it out and read it again, committing each word to memory. He dragged his hands over his hair. Jesus, what a fool he’d been.
The sound of an engine starting up came through the open window. The quad bike. Ric bolted for the door, but the bike had already disappeared down the laneway. He grabbed the keys and took after it in the station wagon.
There she was, heading west towards the storage. Ric took a second look, unsure at first of what he was seeing. Dust wasn’t the only thing following in the wake of the bike. Sophie’s geese were racing close behind, bouncing and hopping with wings spread wide. Ric drew nearer. One goose sprang higher than the rest and with a few uncertain wing strokes became airborne. It levelled out and soared a few inches above Sophie’s head as she wrestled with the bike, skirting a pothole and slowing to negotiate the bone-rattling corrugations beyond the bull yards.
They sped up as they neared the water, and Ric hung back, captivated by the scene. Now more geese took flight, overtaking the bike, four, five . . . six of them. Hard to believe these beautiful birds were the ungainly goslings of two months ago. The bike reached the dam. In a display of synchronised grace, the flying geese folded their wings and settled on the water, sailing like miniature galleons on its rippled surface. Then they turned and swam back to Sophie, and each bowed its head in turn, as if in tribute.
Ric pulled up as the quad bike rabbit-hopped to a stop. The four earth-bound geese ran flapping and honking, up over the levee and into the water to join the others. Sophie
climbed the bank and cheered, jumping up and down, clapping her hands. He wanted to join in. It was the damnedest thing he’d ever seen.
Ric dragged a boot through the dust and jammed his hands in his jean pockets. He almost wished she wouldn’t turn around. It would be a shame to spoil the moment for her. But the inevitable happened, and Sophie’s look of delight turned to one of sullen defiance. She’d been crying. Her red cheeks emphasised how young she really was. He forgot sometimes.
The geese waddled from the water and formed a protective ring around her. Odette hissed at him. Ric strode forward, pushing the geese away with his foot so he could reach the bike. Odette spread her wings and bit his leg as he mounted the bike. ‘Get on.’ Sophie climbed up behind him.
‘Careful,’ she said, as he reversed and headed back down the laneway. The geese honked in consternation and ran after them. Ric increased his speed. The next moment a shadow fell across his face. Looking up, he saw the long neck and head of a goose stretched out above him, just inches from his head, like the brim of some bizarre hat. He could feel the breeze of its wing strokes. Now another and another crowded the air. They flew so close a wingtip brushed his cheek. Sophie laughed and Ric shouted with excitement. He wanted to fly properly, leave the dusty ground and lead the birds into the skies. What a buzz that would be.
They veered round the corner. The flock veered too, in tight formation. They approached the house, and the geese landed all around as the bike rolled to a stop. They shook their heads, preening and calling as if nothing unusual had happened. Ric shook his head too and grinned. ‘That was amazing.’ He kissed Sophie’s cheek and for once she didn’t complain. A faint flush of pleasure coloured her face. ‘How did you teach them to do that?’
‘I didn’t teach them,’ said Sophie. ‘They just do it by themselves. One time I took the bike and they weren’t locked up properly. They’re so clever they can wiggle the catch. Next thing they were flying after me.’
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