Outback Heart

by Palmer, Fiona

  Indi glanced at Spud and Limp, both staring blankly at the place where Troy had been, and broke into giggles.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Patrick.

  ‘All of you. The looks on your faces. This whole situation,’ she said. ‘And he told you to bring someone, even our dads. As if!’

  Patrick pulled her hat off and belted her over the back with it, but he’d started laughing too.

  ‘Could you imagine someone dragging Kingy down here?’ Patrick said between chuckles.

  ‘You know he’d bloody come, too, if you offered him a carton of king browns,’ said Huey.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Limp. ‘We’d need Indi here to run in front of Kingy with a beer just to get him moving.’

  ‘So, now what?’ Jasper asked, tucking the football under his arm. ‘Who else said they were going to play this year?’

  Huey cleared his throat. ‘Well, Brick said he’d play when he’s not on the tractor.’

  ‘And Jaffa was gonna play. Just didn’t get here,’ added Louie.

  ‘There’re a few workers around, but don’t know how good they’d be. Like Lucky. That Irish bugger can run, but as to kicking a ball . . .’ Spud threw up his hands.

  ‘Yeah, there’re a few Kiwi workers I know of and maybe we could pull a few old players out of retirement. Worth a shot. Let’s see what we can do,’ said Patrick as he started to walk off.

  ‘Hey, Pat, where are you going?’ Indi yelled at her brother. ‘Troy said you had to run five laps first. Bet I can do them in my work gear faster than you lot.’ None of them moved. ‘Come on. Or would you rather look like unfit lard arses at the first game?’ None of this was working so she went for the kill. ‘Look, I’ll buy you all a beer afterwards.’

  The pack of them turned on their heels and started jogging towards the goals. ‘You guys are so easy,’ she said, jogging after them.

  ‘I thought you said you could beat us,’ yelled Spud who was past the goals.

  Indi smiled but kept jogging at a steady pace. She was still smiling when she passed Spud, Limp, Pat and the three brothers, but Jasper was harder to catch.

  ‘Beat all of us, hey?’ he teased as he waited for her to join him at the finish line.

  ‘Smartarse. You try and run in boots and work pants.’

  ‘Well, you should have changed.’

  ‘Hey, I came straight from work.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s beat this lot to the pub.’ Jasper put his arm around her as they walked to his ute. ‘See you slowcoaches down there,’ he yelled to his mates, who were holding their bellies as they puffed and panted. ‘Bet Spud hurls, he always does with his first run.’ Jasper chuckled before turning to Indi. ‘You know, I could handle this kind of training. A few laps, then hit the pub. Reckon the new coach will take to it?’

  ‘After that spray he gave, not likely,’ she said.

  ‘So what else do you know about him?’ asked Jasper as he got into and started his blue SS Commodore ute.

  ‘Not much. Just that he took Dowerin to the premiership after starting near the bottom of the ladder. Think he’s got his work cut out for him here, though. Be good if he could help us win a few games.’

  ‘Yeah, well, pigs might fly and Limp might actually keep his pants on.’

  The brown brick pub looked deserted, much like the main street in town, with only one car parked out the front. But as they made their way through the double doors from the verandah, it was another story: two blokes sat at the bar while a couple of guys in hi-vis played pool off to the right and another bloke stood watching the TV up on the wall.

  ‘Wow, it’s almost a crowd. Don’t know them, they must be staying at the hotel.’ Indi pulled out her wallet and ordered their beers. ‘Hey, James, a couple of Carlton Drys, thanks.’

  She loved this pub. Used to love coming here with her parents. They’d buy her a small can of drink and she’d run around with her friends. Not much had changed except for the type of drink. Most times there was an even mix of locals.

  ‘Coming up, Indi.’

  Indi watched James, whose real name was Richard Bond, as he moved behind the bar. He’d only lived in Hyden a couple of months and she wondered if he was a footy fan – a player, even. He wasn’t out of shape and seemed coordinated enough working the bar.

  ‘How old are you, James?’ she asked as he put the beers on the bar in front of her. His skin was dark and his black goatee moved as he smiled.

  ‘I’m thirty. Why? You hitting on me, Indi?’ James cocked a bushy eyebrow.

  ‘In your dreams, Bondie,’ Jasper added, taking a gulp from the beer.

  ‘Oi, why not? Too old?’

  Indi pinched her thumb and finger together. ‘Just a little bit.’ After she handed him some money she asked, ‘Hey, have you played footy before?’

  ‘Me? Yeah a few kicks here and there. Why?’

  ‘Great, that’s settled. Next Thursday at six, footy training. Be there on the dot. We need you.’

  James held up his hand after wiping it on his green shirt. ‘Na, no can do. Boss has me working the pub about then.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll just have to have a little word with him. Let him know how important it is, seeing as the pub sponsors the club and all.’ One quick chat to Peter and Indi was sure he’d let James go. Peter was a mad footy fan and he understood how important it was to keep this team alive. Indi knew who was on her side; it was the rest of the town she had to help wake up. She knew they all remembered how great it used to be. A time when the town flourished with excitement on game day. Indi wanted that back for her town and for herself.

  ‘Fine,’ James said. ‘I’ll give it a go, but I’m warning you now, I haven’t played in a while.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in with this lot,’ she said, hitting Jasper on the arm.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Jasper said as he brushed his hair back. At the same time the doors of the pub flew open and the rest of the team walked in. Spud’s face was the colour of ripe watermelon.

  ‘Quick, Indi. Thirsty men here,’ said Spud, breathing heavily. He reached for a stool by the bar as if his legs were about to give way any minute.

  ‘James, fetch these lads some beers, please. On me tonight,’ Indi said, handing over a fifty.

  James pulled a face of disbelief. ‘What? Did you lose a bet?’

  ‘No, just trying to keep the fellas keen. Hey, boys, James is gonna come play for the Saints!’ A cheer went up in the now-busy bar while James shot Indi an exasperated look. When they quietened down after getting their beers, she added, ‘Now, you guys just need to find your own recruits. I’ve done my part.’

  5

  ON the anniversary of her mother’s death, Indianna rose early to fix the family a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, buttered mushrooms and hash browns. A year ago she’d done exactly the same thing. It was something their mother, Lizzy, would have done: fix up a feed fit for a king when big heart-heavy things were about to happen. It was her way of preparing them for the events to follow.

  Placing some more bacon on Jasper’s plate, Indi wished that her mum were here, taking care of them, filling the house with her love and laughter. She missed the way Mum would throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling Indi close to gently tuck her hair back off her face before tracing her finger over the three tiny freckles on her cheek, as if she were still a child. Even when her mum had no hair, she’d scoop Indi’s dark locks through her fingers, holding her hair against her face, and occasionally she caught her smelling it. In her last few months Lizzy would often do little things like that, from holding Indi’s hands and tracing every line to sitting by Jasper’s bed while he slept or spending hours at Pat’s house with Maddie, helping them make a home. She refused to let them see her pain and wanted her last moments to be happy ones. They were not allowed to cry in her presence. ‘You can do that after I’m gone. For now I want to see your smiling faces,’ she’d said the last time she’d caught Indi crying her heart out.

  Indi wiped
at her face quickly, catching the tears that were falling towards Jasper’s breakfast. Stepping back, she pushed her fist against her mouth to stop the sobs that were building up. She was losing it. She had to be strong. If her dad walked out and saw her like this they’d never get through the day. She looked at her mum’s photo on the fridge. Stunning blue eyes watched over Indi. The photo was from Mum’s last birthday before her diagnosis. Back when her head was covered with dark brown hair and her cheeks were plump with life.

  ‘Yum. Something smells awesome, sis.’

  Indi swallowed back the tears, the pain, the heartache, and finished loading their plates while avoiding Jasper’s eyes. ‘Here – yours is ready. Is Dad up?’ She tried to keep her voice even.

  ‘Yep, he just got outta bed. Won’t be long.’

  She was hoping Jasper would take his plate and go to the table, so she could compose herself, but she should have known it wouldn’t escape his attention.

  His hand came around her shoulders. ‘You okay?’ he whispered.

  Indi forced a weak smile, faced her brother’s compassionate gaze and nodded. ‘Yep. I’m fine.’

  Jasper bit his lip as his Adam’s apple jiggled, his eyes misting over. ‘I miss her, too.’ He rubbed Indi’s back again before collecting two of the plates to take to the table.

  Closing her eyes, with the tongs still hanging in her hand, she sucked in three deep breaths.

  ‘I can smell bacon,’ called Allan as he clomped down the passage from his bedroom.

  ‘Just in the nick of time, Dad,’ said Indi. Feeling in control again, she picked up the last plate and joined her family.

  After breakfast, Indi headed into town to see Mrs Bateson. She parked her old white LandCruiser by the kerb and slammed the door shut. The little wire gate creaked as Indi pushed it open and walked up the meandering brick path through the jam-packed cottage garden to Mrs Bateson’s door.

  ‘Morning, Indianna.’ Mrs Bateson stepped out her front door with an armful of flowers. Even though it was only seven a.m., she was dressed in a cotton dress and apron, and her fingers were stained green from the garden. At seventy, and alone after Mr Bateson passed away seven years ago, Mrs Bateson’s garden had become her life, along with the CWA, her three cats and her dog Peppy, who was barking from the back door.

  ‘Oh, they look lovely, thank you,’ Indi said.

  ‘Just a few bright Liliums, lancifolium to be exact,’ she said, handing them over. Her grey-brown hair was brushed back into an impeccably tidy bun.

  Indi could smell the flowers. Their extravagant orange petals were dotted with spots and the stamens stretched out from the core of the flowers like prongs. Mrs Bateson had added a few fishbone ferns and a big yellow ribbon to hold them all together. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Bateson. Mum will love these,’ she said, giving her a gentle hug.

  A crunching of shoes on gravel caught Indi’s attention. Walking down the driveway of the house next door was Troy. She knew this was where he was staying, but she was still surprised. He looked dressed for an early morning run, in white footy shorts and a blue singlet that gave her too much skin to deal with. It should be a crime to look that hot so early in the day. That was half the reason she hadn’t got around to meeting with him – besides being busy, she was a little intimidated.

  ‘Morning, Troy,’ called Mrs Bateson.

  ‘Morning,’ he called back with a little wave.

  Indi didn’t say anything but their eyes met, and she could see him finally recognise her. She was wearing denim shorts and a pale-yellow T-shirt, with her hair in a soft braid down her back – quite unlike her fluoro work clothes. She smiled, which he returned before walking behind Mrs Bateson’s large bottlebrush bush to the back of his house. She felt a patch of heat rise to her cheeks at the thought of his tanned, lean arms and strong, wide shoulders. Indi turned her back to where he’d been, as if that would help erase the image of his near-naked body.

  ‘Oh, I see Kingy slept out on the verandah again,’ she said, relieved to have something else to talk about, even if it was the town’s biggest drinker and layabout. He was a great shearer in his day but now, in his old age, he got by doing odd jobs.

  Mrs Bateson turned in the direction of her less-desirable neighbour and almost grunted her displeasure. Kingy’s yard was weed infested except for where his dogs had worn paths, or the rabbits fed. His house was a small dump of a place with falling gutters and busted flywire on the windows. Indi could hear him snoring as he lay on his front verandah on an old spring bed with a worn, stained mattress. ‘I see it was a two-dog night,’ Indi said, and giggled as the two kelpie dogs on the bed with Kingy pricked their ears.

  By his makeshift bed sat a heap of empty king brown bottles. Indi squinted and saw a few that were still full of beer. Ready for his breakfast. As if he knew they were watching him, a loud fart erupted and he scratched at his belly through his dirty clothes.

  Mrs Bateson actually took a step back and grimaced. ‘Well, one can’t choose one’s neighbours. At least Troy seems like a nice young man. He saw me struggling with the lawnmower yesterday and next thing I know he’s come over and mown my lawn for me.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, anything would be better than Kingy,’ Indi said but her mind was already picturing Troy pushing the lawnmower in his singlet, sweat beading on his tanned skin, perspiration dampening his dark hair. Indi touched her cheek as the fiery blush returned there. What was going on with her lately?

  ‘It’s been very quiet at Troy’s, but a young strapping fellow like him will have friends in no time, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Bateson. ‘And he seems to be single.’

  There is nothing worse than an old lady wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, Indi thought.

  ‘I better go. Thanks again for the flowers. I have to pick up Patrick and meet Dad and Jasper there.’

  ‘All right, love. Pay my respects to your mum. We all miss her ’round here.’

  ‘I will. Cheers.’ Mrs Bateson stood out the front of her house watching her leave. Indi had to wonder how she still lived on after all the funerals she’d attended. Her husband, her youngest son, her best friends and her parents. Getting old sucked. Then she glanced across to Kingy, who was now sitting up having his warm morning beer, and she changed her mind. At least Mrs Bateson knew how to live.

  Indi drove a few blocks to Patrick’s house with the flowers resting carefully on the seat. He’d bought his house a few years back, just before his wedding. A simple three-bedroom house, which Indi hoped would soon have a baby in the spare room. Some said Pat may have rushed into marriage – he had only been with Maddie a year – but with Lizzy fighting cancer, he took the plunge. Maybe he knew Lizzy would have liked to go to a wedding for one of her children or maybe he just realised how short life was.

  Knocking on the door, she gave a shout ‘Hello’ before pushing it open. ‘Pat, you ready?’

  She could hear voices towards the kitchen area before Pat appeared with Maddie behind him. ‘Hey, sis.’

  Maddie was a wisp of a thing, coming up to Indi’s shoulders, and so petite that when she hugged her it was like hugging a child. Fine-boned, Lizzy always said. Not like the thick-boned sons she’d produced. But her frame was the only small thing about Maddie. She had a strong constitution and never backed down on a fight. Which was great for Pat, as he always wanted to win or had to have the last say – was always the bossy older brother who thought he knew everything. In Maddie he had found his match.

  ‘Hi, Indi.’ Maddie touched her shoulder tenderly. ‘You’ve got my love today and I’ll be there in spirit. I’ll see you later for the family dinner. I’m running so late for work. Pat, don’t forget to hang the washing out and do the dishes when you get back, please,’ she added. Maddie flicked back her blonde hair and kissed Pat goodbye before rushing out the door.

  ‘You’ve been told,’ Indi said, teasingly.

  Pat pushed her out the door and locked up.

  Opening the passenger side of her LandCruiser, Indi pulled
her large water bottle from the footwell to make room for her brother’s leg. ‘Just watch the flowers,’ she warned.

  When Indi got in behind the steering wheel, she saw that Pat was holding the flowers gently on his lap with his head down. His hair was shaved short, which made his jawline stand out like a soldier’s. ‘Thanks for the lift, sis.’

  ‘I had to come into town to get the flowers; it’d be silly not to get you too.’

  His finger touched one of the lilies and she knew he was thinking of their mum.

  Indi parked at the cemetery, which was nestled in the dry scrub just out of town, and together they walked towards the rest of their family. It wasn’t a big cemetery, and they could all navigate the path to her grave with ease. They knew it well.

  Pat passed Indi the flowers and went straight up to their father, whose shoulders were hunched as he stood staring at the headstone.

  ‘Ah, here’s our big boy.’

  ‘Hey, Dad,’ Pat said as he hugged his father.

  Allan spotted Indi with the flowers. ‘They’re nice, Indi. Your mum grew them too, I’m sure.’

  Indi popped the flowers in the empty vase at the bottom of the headstone, made sure they were sitting right, then delicately traced the grooves of her mother’s name cut into the stone. ‘Hiya, Mum. Miss you like crazy,’ she whispered.

  ‘We’ve already started footy training . . . well, sort of,’ said Jasper, as he stared at the headstone. ‘New coach is a bit different but we’ll see where it goes. I’m just happy to still be playing footy. You wouldn’t like it, Mum. It’s not like it used to be.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ added Indi. ‘Not like the days when Dad was playing and the boys were in juniors. You and me as number one supporters, all dressed up in the colours.’

  ‘And Indi following you around like a shadow, begging you to let her play, too. Remember that time she went into the change rooms while you were strapping the blokes,’ said Pat, laughing. ‘Indi just wanted to be like you, Mum.’ His smile revealed the beginning of fine lines around his mouth and eyes. ‘First time Indi copped an eyeful.’