by Di Morrissey
‘I don’t know. It’s going to be a big job and it’s not going to be cheap.’ Mark looked out at the canal and the houses opposite with their fancy swimming pools and thatched Balinese-style cabanas. Many of them had boats moored to their own private landing or pontoon.
‘Mark, we’ve got the experience. I’ll draw up some of my ideas for you tonight,’ said Natalie with confidence.
Mark stared at her. ‘The renovations we did at our place were cosmetic. Paint, carpets, a deck, garden. This would be structural, you’d need an architect or at least a builder who knows what he’s doing.’
‘Let me show you. I can see it,’ insisted Natalie.
Later, they talked into the night, discussing their budget and working out a rough costing of Natalie’s ideas. With the knowledge that they could eventually renovate the house into something very special, they went to the auction with enthusiasm and enough money from the bank to buy their dream home.
After they’d bought the house and moved in, they spent the first few days settling, getting to know all aspects, good and bad, of their new home. It was soon apparent that the massive renovation job together with their bigger mortgage and the expenses of the move meant they had to re-evaluate their financial position.
‘Finding the money for the renovations is going to be more difficult than I thought,’ said Mark. ‘And are you still thinking of another baby?’
‘Of course I am! I adore being a mother. But, well, it isn’t really the right time, is it?’ Natalie said with a sigh. ‘And I’m disappointed about the renovations. You’re right. I don’t think we can find enough time and money to do them quickly. How are we ever going to save enough to do the really big jobs, like the bathrooms and the kitchen, let alone fixing up the pool? Maybe I should go back to work.’
‘I’m not sure about that. By the time we pay for daycare, babysitting and another car, I don’t know that your teacher’s salary is going to cover what we’ll need. And we’ve always agreed that being at home to look after the kids while they are little is the best thing for them. I think we should stick to our plan of you having these years off and only going back to paid work when they’re older and in school,’ said Mark.
‘I know,’ said Natalie. ‘Perhaps we should do as much work on the house as we can ourselves, and then when we’ve saved up a bit, we’ll do the more expensive bits. We’ll get there.’
Over the next few weekends they began to renovate the house. They ripped up the carpets and painted the walls in one of the spare rooms.
After dinner one night when the children had gone to bed, Mark poured them both a glass of wine. ‘Sit down, I want to talk to you, Nat.’
‘Hmm. Sounds serious. Or have we won the lottery and you haven’t told me?’ she asked lightly, not liking the look on her husband’s face.
‘Look, this renovating the house bit by bit isn’t going to work, is it?’
Natalie was about to disagree with him, but in the end she quietly nodded her head. ‘You’re right. We’re spending every weekend working on the house, but it’s so hard with the kids around. They just get into everything and you have to watch them all the time. You know what Adam did with that paintbrush. I mean, it only took a couple of hours to fix up the mess he made, but it wasn’t helpful. We are living in chaos. We can’t have our friends around because there’s nowhere nice to entertain them. At least we didn’t get carried away and rip out the kitchen, but it’s so awful to cook there because the stove barely works and the oven takes an age to heat up. If it weren’t for the barbeque, we’d never have a meal at a reasonable hour. I don’t regret taking on this place, but I wish we could speed up the renovations.’
‘I’ve worked out a way we can fix this place up much faster than we’re doing, and without you having to go back to work.’
‘Really? How?’ Natalie looked puzzled.
‘I’m going to apply for a new job.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Still a sparky, of course. But away from here . . .’
‘Move? Oh no! Do you want us to move? Do you want to rent this place out?’
‘Calm down, Nat. No, of course not. Anyway,’ he smiled at her, ‘who’d rent the place in the state it’s in? No, what I meant was that I’ll be away, but you and the kids will stay here. I won’t be away all the time. But I can make a lot more money working out at a mine site. It’ll be long hours but great money. And they tell me the conditions aren’t bad.’
‘You mean you’re going to be a fly in – fly out worker?’ said Natalie quietly. ‘How long would you be away for?’
‘It’s four weeks on, one week off. Twelve working days a fortnight.’
‘That’s ridiculous! Crazy.’
‘I know it’s not perfect for us, Nat, but it’s great takehome pay, much more than what I earn now.’
‘Where would you be?’ asked Natalie, trying to settle her jumbled feelings and emotions. The money sounded terrific but the hours were horrendous for Mark, she would miss him and how would she manage on her own for such long stretches at a time?
‘Central Queensland. There’s a lot of work for good electricians: keeping machinery operating, wiring work sites and building living quarters and facilities for the workers.’
‘It’s such a long time away . . .’ began Natalie, feeling close to tears.
‘It’s the only way we can save enough money to get the renovations done quickly. Just for a year or two, say. And after each shift, when I come back, I’ll have seven days just to be here with you and the kids. That will give you a break. You can have lunch with your girlfriends, and I’ll spend quality time with the kids.’
Natalie stared at Mark. ‘You’ll need time-out after working those hideous hours. It’s your break, too.’
‘I’ve talked to other people who have done it. Jason’s working as a plumber over in the west. Saving up for a house. Says he’s whacking nearly a grand into the bank every pay.’
‘I have to think about this.’ Natalie got up. She was too tired for another glass of wine and she wanted to think about the whole idea before discussing it further.
‘I need to get to bed. Adam is waking so early these mornings. Let’s talk about this some more before we make a decision.’
Slowly Natalie got used to the idea and the lure of the extra money seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.
But when Mark started his new job the adjustment for them all was much greater than they had imagined. The children became clingy and needy while he was away. When Mark came home he was exhausted and slept for hours at a stretch. It took at least two days for him to reset his body clock, regain his good temper and enjoy playing with them, and then it was time for him to go again.
‘It’s not like you’ve flown in from Alaska,’ complained Natalie. ‘I don’t understand why the job has had such an impact on you.’
Mark sighed. ‘I don’t stay up late boozing, watching DVDs or anything like that,’ he said defensively. ‘Anyway, we get tested for alcohol and drugs and you can’t work if they’re in your system.’
‘Drugs! You get drug tested?’ exclaimed Natalie.
‘People are driving expensive equipment, working with explosives. It’s a safety thing. Jeez, I don’t want to work with someone who’s not all there.’
‘What are you doing that makes you so tired?’
‘I’m working. But it’s hard physical work, even my job. There’s a lot of noise, speed, shouting, whistles, machinery, trucks, trains hauling coal. It’s full-on madness. And people are working round the clock, working under lights, twenty-four seven. There’s constant pressure. When I have time off I stick to my room to get a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘It sounds awful.’
‘It’s better than it used to be, I hear. The first workers on the site lived really rough. Now there are sealed roads, a rec centre with a pool and a club social room and a big dining hall with really good meals. Even landscaped gardens! It’s a plush camp in the middle of nowhere.
’
‘What about the people you work with? Have you made friends? Hung out together after work? Are you working with the same people all the time?’
‘Not really, said Mark, ‘I work with different people a lot because I move around to different jobs. Everyone has different rosters, too, and they seem to come and go, quit and move on, very regularly. Most don’t see it as a longterm job. Like me, they’re in it for the money. Hanging out! I’m too buggered to socialise. Twelve-hour days are pretty full-on, takes its toll.’
‘I’m trying to imagine it. Can you take some photos?’
‘We’ll see.’
In the beginning Natalie had missed Mark terribly. When he came home she changed her routine to fit in with him. Because he slept late for the first couple of days, she kept the kids home from their preschool so that he could spend time with them when he woke up. She appreciated taking time-out for herself, even if it was just for a doctor’s appointment or grocery shopping in peace without the kids, or getting the car serviced. And she delighted in the four of them spending time together, going to the beach for a swim or packing a picnic lunch and finding a park with lots of things for the children to play on.
As time went by, Natalie found that she adjusted to Mark’s long absences. She liked not having to prepare elaborate meals, especially when it was so hard to cook in their kitchen. Eating an egg and a piece of fruit with the children was much easier, and she found that having only herself to please could make life very simple. While Mark was away, she took over those jobs that he had usually done, including mowing the grass in the front of the house and, while it added to her workload, Natalie felt a small twinge of pride in managing everything. At night, when she was on her own and the children were asleep, she refined her plans for the renovations. The more she lived in her house, the more she loved it. She wasn’t bothering to watch TV of an evening but instead listened to her iPod as she made sketches, took measurements and flipped through country-inspired decorating magazines.
The kitchen was not just going to be replaced. She wanted to enlarge it by knocking out the wall between it and the laundry. And what had been a small office at the end of the hall, opening onto the side garden, she would turn into a new laundry with a fold-down clothesline on the outside wall facing the morning sun. The fourth and fifth bedrooms, which were fairly big but dark and depressing, she planned to make into one big play area for the kids, with one of the walls to be replaced with folding plantation doors. These would open onto the sheltered and fenced front garden, which she would plant with tropical flowers, or maybe herb beds, and perhaps construct a sandpit there, as well.
She planned to throw white paint over all the dark rooms with their old stained-wood panelling, which Mark had said was only wood veneer anyway. She’d decided to go with a colour scheme of white and indigo blue with splashes of yellow. Fresh, clean, cool.
She’d get Mark to slash back some of the rampant tropical growth that shaded so much of the garden and verandah and harboured, as she’d discovered, hordes of mosquitoes. The length of scrubby grass that stretched from their fence to the edge of the canal needed work. She wished she could wave a wand and transform it into a green lawn with a white picket fence and gate flanked by cheerful white daisies. She’d add a small path to a jasmine-covered pergola, under which they would walk to reach the landing, where there would be chairs ready for fishing, and a little boat moored.
But most of her plans would have to wait. All these dreams cost money. Poor Mark. He was working so hard so they could afford it all, thought Natalie, though I’m still chipping away at the small jobs.
One night Sarah, her mother, called. ‘We’ve sold our place! Never thought we’d find a buyer for the farm, at least not at the price we’re asking.’
‘Congratulations. Is Steve pleased?’
‘Frankly, he’s in a bit of shock. Reality sinking in. And it’s a short settlement time and you can imagine how long it’s going to take to clear out and pack. Do you want to come and help? Bring the kids down for the weekend?’
‘Don’t know how much help I’ll be with those two in tow, but I’d love to come.’
Natalie hurried through the rain to the shed behind the farmhouse. It was already overflowing with piles of packing boxes. She stacked the one she was carrying on top of the others and drew a breath as she surveyed the pillars of brown cartons that held the essentials of her mother’s life and which Sarah insisted she had to bring to her new home.
Natalie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘There’s no way!’ she exclaimed aloud.
Her mother and stepfather were downsizing and facing an enormous challenge in packing up a farmhouse where they’d had sheds and a double garage in which to store things. They were moving to a neat house with a tidy garden on the ridge above Lismore.
Natalie knew that her mother was pleased they were moving. Sarah had decided that the daily commute from the farm to Lismore, where she owned a fashion boutique, was getting too much.
‘Fifty minutes on a good day because the road is full of potholes and it’s prone to flooding if there’s even a drop of rain!’ Sarah often said. Steve had been finding the farm tiring ever since a little accident had thrown his back out, so Sarah was pleased she was able to persuade him it was time to move. And when that buyer turned up and agreed to their price for the place, lock, stock and barrel, well, Steve felt he couldn’t refuse. He was a bit sad about leaving his family home. But he had no kids to leave it to and Sarah was confident he’d be happy once they were settled.
Natalie certainly hoped so. Her mother had married Steve just after Natalie had graduated from university with an education degree. She was thrilled that her mother had made a new life, and she liked Steve, a solid, calm, goodnatured dairy farmer. Natalie and Mark enjoyed visiting the farm in the tranquil valley where they were always welcome.
Natalie knew that leaving the farm would be a huge change for Steve and hoped her mother’s confidence that he’d be happy pottering about in a small suburban garden with neighbours close by and town just down the hill was not misplaced. Life in town would be dramatically different from the lush green paddocks encircled by the dramatic mountain range where the only noises were from the small creek, the call of birds and the occasional lowing of the cows. Steve, however, was the first to admit that he wouldn’t miss rising from bed in the pre-dawn dark, the occasional frost underfoot in winter, to milk the sometimes uncooperative animals, and the endless cleaning of the bails. But still, he loved the simple routine of his days and the placid company of his herd.
Although Sarah worked six days a week herself, she was quick to say, with a laugh, that being married to a dairy farmer meant no holidays for either of them. She’d had little to do with the dairy herd but she helped Steve in the vegetable garden and enjoyed having friends over for long elaborate Sunday lunches that she spent hours preparing.
Natalie stared across the wet paddocks, thinking that this must be what Ireland looked like: lustrous emerald green, mist curling on the top of the ranges, a gentle drizzly rain. There was a lush softness to the Northern Rivers compared with the Gold Coast. Natalie had never travelled overseas and now, with their hefty mortgage, an overseas trip was out of reach. Natalie was grateful they had a house that she loved and which she knew they could transform into a very beautiful home, but she was sad that holidays at the farm were coming to an end.
Her musing was broken by her mother calling, ‘Natalie! I need more flatpacks. Can you bring me some, please?’
Natalie shook her head. The amount of stuff her mother had brought to Steve’s when they married was incredible. There were boxes, cupboards and trunks that Natalie knew had not been opened for years. Some had been packed away after Natalie’s father died, others came from her grandmother’s house. Sarah had kept putting off sorting them, partly because she had the luxury of storage space at Steve’s farm.
‘It’ll be my retirement project,’ she told the family when they teased her
about them. But now downsizing was proving to be a headache. Natalie dragged out several more cartons and hurried back to the house.
‘Mum, this is a nightmare. You’ll have to have a clearing sale to get rid of it all. I mean, what’s in all those old boxes?’
‘I can’t remember. Some of it’s from your grandmother.’
‘Well let’s go through them. This is the time. You can’t take all this to your new house. It won’t fit and I don’t want the job of having to sort it all out when you kick the bucket,’ said Natalie cheerfully.
Sarah laughed. ‘You’re right. A good rainy day job. I’ll make a pot of tea, you get some of the old boxes together. It’s lucky that young Imogen down the road is happy looking after Charlotte and Adam.’
Three hours later, the lounge room was littered with piles of books, china plates, ornaments, LP records, clothes, packets of letters and several shoeboxes of photographs.
‘I see why you put off going through all this,’ said Natalie. ‘Do you know why you packed all of this stuff up?’
‘Not really. I was so emotional at the time, I don’t recall much about it. I hope I didn’t throw out anything valuable.’
‘Mum, I don’t think you threw out anything!’ Natalie was beginning to wonder if they should have started this job.
Sarah was wallowing in nostalgia as she went through her mother’s possessions. ‘This triggers so many memories,’ she said sighing.
‘Mum, the to-go pile isn’t very big. Let’s try and cull a bit more,’ said Natalie, fearful that all the mess was going to be repacked and stored again. ‘I can’t take any of it to my place. Mark would have a fit.’
‘That’s probably because he’s a no-frills man who spends most of his time in a tent.’
‘Mum! He doesn’t live in a tent. Actually, the conditions in the camp sound great. Better than our place in its current state! The mining company provides excellent facilities and he’s earning enough money so we can save up for the renos.’
Sarah sighed. They’d been over this before. ‘I still think it’s very hard on you, carrying the load of the house and the kids. Don’t you miss your job? You’re such a gifted teacher, darling.’