The Cowgirl

by Anthea Hodgson

  ‘Grandma – the house that that guy is digging up.’

  ‘Oh.’ As she looked up from the paper again, Deirdre had the grace to look a little chastened. ‘I didn’t tell you about that, did I?’ she said. ‘I’m getting a lad to do some work. I’m sure nothing will come of it. He’s one of Audrey’s innumerable nephews. Name’s Will.’

  ‘And?’ Teddy prompted.

  ‘And he’s some sort of archaeologist, so he’s here to dig up the old house.’

  ‘Grandma.’

  ‘Yes?’ Modesty Blaise had her top off again.

  ‘What house?’ Deirdre looked up in annoyance but Teddy could see it was a bluff; she was going to have to explain something she’d rather not.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said absent-mindedly. ‘The house I used to live in when I was a girl.’

  ‘Why was it buried?’

  ‘Oh, I think it became unstable – your great-grandfather had to knock it down. Safety reasons.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Teddy said, pouring the tea. Silence. She delivered the cup to Deirdre, and tipped a couple of chocolate Montes onto a saucer for good measure. Deirdre didn’t generally approve of shop-bought but Teddy knew she could forgive chocolate anything.

  Her grandmother reached for one, observing Teddy while she ate, as if she was wondering whether she could trust her, or as if she was wondering what Modesty Blaise would do.

  ‘Well, Theodora, my family was different to yours, you know,’ she began.

  Teddy picked up a biscuit and took a bite.

  ‘And you know that one day your Aunty Viv and I came home from school to find that my mother had left us all forever.’

  Teddy nodded. It had been a tale of almost Biblical significance. Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Romans and The Day Mother Left Us All Forever. Her departure had been swift and brutal and carried with it a moral lesson repeated at meal times, on picnics and sometimes as they had drifted off to sleep. That great-grandmother Dolly was a terrible mother who ran away and let the family down.

  ‘I know about Dolly.’ Teddy shifted impatiently in her chair.

  ‘Then what you don’t know is that the day she left, my father took the old bulldozer out of the shed in a rage –’ Deirdre paused to choose another biscuit – ‘and he bulldozed the house. Our family home. Viv and I walked up the drive to find him yelling and screaming from the cab while he pushed the walls down upon each other. It was mud brick so it didn’t take much, but the roof came down like a shell on top of it, so he hitched it to the back of the dozer and dragged it to the scrap heap, and ground the rest of our home into the dirt.’

  The two women regarded each other for a moment. Teddy didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Where did you live?’ she asked finally.

  ‘We lived in the shearers quarters until my father had this house built. It didn’t take long, we didn’t need anything fancy.’

  Teddy stared out of the window.

  ‘So there’s an entire house out behind the pepper trees?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With everything inside . . .’

  ‘Well, probably not everything by now, but I was thinking this boy may be able to pull out a few bits and pieces. I’d like to see some of it again before I die.’

  ‘Why have you never dug it up before?’

  Deirdre looked impatient. ‘Because there was nothing under there I needed!’

  Her grandmother’s temper didn’t scare her; she was used to it and she recognised Deirdre’s anxiety. ‘Is there something you need now?’ Teddy asked gently.

  ‘None of your business,’ Deirdre declared and rose to wash her mug. The conversation was over.

  Teddy sighed. ‘You might have warned me Will was coming before you went to town.’

  ‘He was early,’ Deirdre snapped. ‘Not my fault.’

  ‘You could have told me anytime, you know.’

  ‘There are some things, Theodora, that are private. Just because you want to know something doesn’t mean I have to tell you.’

  ‘Why isn’t he staying with Audrey?’

  ‘He likes his own space. And he’ll be working here every day,’ Deirdre sniffed. ‘It’s just easier.’

  Hmm. There was something.

  ‘Okay, then. I’m off to make sure he’s got everything he needs,’ Teddy announced.

  ‘What’s he like, Teddy?’ She had made it as far as the door. Deirdre was still looking at Modesty Blaise’s assault-ready breasts.

  Teddy shrugged. ‘Tall. Bit scruffy. Seems nice. Could be nosey, given half a chance.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I dunno, his job?’

  Why had she said that? It wasn’t his job, exactly. It was more the way he’d observed her. Like he might knock the dust off from behind her ears and find a treasure.

  Deirdre folded the paper and Teddy could see she was dismissed.

  ‘Your milk’s in the fridge,’ Deirdre said. ‘May as well take it with you.’ Teddy glanced out at the yard where Will was throwing a stick for Dog.

  ‘I’ll pick it up later,’ she said. ‘But thanks.’

  Teddy crossed the yard to where she could see Will pacing about and looking at the ground with great interest. She had wanted to avoid him. It would have been easier if he’d been old and not so great looking but he was neither of those things. He was tall and dark, maybe late 20s and his eyes were a startling shade of blue. She decided to think of him as a friend of her grandmother’s. That would help. Keep it light, Teddy. Don’t be strange. He’d be off in a few days, anyway.

  ‘Find anything?’ she asked. He looked up from the dark earth where he had carved out channels across an area in front of the shearing shed. She could see a layer of dampness, and then an area of red mud, next to paler, sandier soil. Dog was sniffing at the ditches with great interest and a couple of mudlarks had come down from the York gums behind Deirdre’s house to see what was going on.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said, comfortably. ‘But I’m hopeful.’

  ‘How’d you sleep?’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  ‘Bed okay?’

  ‘Fine, although I think something crawled across my face at one point. You got a cat?’

  ‘It was the size of a cat?!’

  ‘Nah, it was the size of a mouse. A cat could be good.’

  ‘Carpet snakes like mice.’ Brilliant.

  ‘You got a carpet snake?’

  ‘Uh, no. Would you like me to make you a sandwich later instead?’

  He grinned. ‘For the mouse?’

  Crap. ‘For you.’

  ‘Sure. Do you mind bringing it to me? I don’t want to lose any time.’

  ‘Not a problem at all.’

  He climbed out of the ditch and began dragging a shovel about, and digging small holes then hammering in long wooden pegs where he found dark red earth.

  ‘How long does Deirdre think you’ll be here for?’ she asked.

  He handed her some pegs and glanced almost guiltily across at the old lady’s house. ‘I think she’s expecting a fortnight, maybe more.’

  ‘Is that what you told her?’

  ‘That’s what Audrey insisted on. I’ve got a chance to take the lead on this Devon thing – it’s kind of a big deal. It’s a treasure trove. Well, we think it might be a treasure trove.’ He came back to her. ‘I did some research with a professor I know in the UK a while ago. There was a church – long gone now – but Henry the Eighth sent his boys around there during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536. He was out to appropriate and sell off the church’s wealth: basically to extinguish the monasteries altogether, and to pay for some wars he wanted to win. He became supreme ruler of the newly formed Church of England, hundreds of churches and religious houses were ransacked, and some clever folk thought to hide their wealth away. From some of the documents I’ve seen, I’m fairly confident we can work out where this particular band of monks hid their stash of relics and treasures.’ He smiled and she could feel his passio
n for history buzzing around him. ‘Of course, whether it’s still there or not is another matter,’ he allowed. ‘But I can’t wait to find out.’

  ‘You’re just going to leave here when you feel like it?’

  ‘I’ll stay around as long as I can,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you should probably warn Deirdre,’ she said. ‘She likes to be kept in the picture.’

  ‘I’ll let her know when I know,’ he replied, and Teddy glanced up at him to see if he was trying to be rude. He didn’t seem to be; he was already distractedly gazing about the site like a sort of reverse builder – looking for where the walls had gone, instead of where they were going to go. Will wandered off, forgetting her, and she marched back to the safety of her house to make tea.

  When Teddy came back to drop off his lunch, Will was driving the old Dingo down a ramp from the back of the truck and it rattled uncertainly as it hit the ground. It was pretty old, but Teddy thought she’d seen it before. ‘Is that the neighbour’s digger?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Deirdre knew they had one. We’ve got it for as long as we need it.’ He gave it a pat on its tiny roof.

  Dog wandered across the yard and sat down on Teddy’s foot. It was an in-joke between them, and she smiled and rubbed his ears. Dog grinned.

  ‘He yours?’ Will asked, coming to meet them by the pepper trees.

  ‘He’s Grandma’s really, but he likes to share the love.’

  ‘I’ve never had a dog,’ Will said.

  ‘I can’t imagine life without one,’ she told him. Dog raised an eyebrow at Will disapprovingly.

  ‘I love dogs,’ Will said. ‘I’m just too busy to have one.’

  ‘You don’t like ties,’ she observed.

  He bent down to give Dog a casual pat. ‘Nah,’ he said, ‘I’m better on my own.’ He stood and picked up a shovel. ‘You ready to dig?’

  ‘I’m busy,’ she told him. ‘You’re on your own.’

  ‘What’s this I hear about you helping with the digging?’ a voice demanded from behind them. Deirdre had arrived.

  ‘What you hear is that I’m not helping.’

  Deirdre looked confused and irritated, which probably meant she was just confused; she’d been looking at least a bit irritated since at least 1987.

  ‘Yes you are.’ She addressed Will, who was sucking on the inside of his cheek: ‘You need help?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah – it’s going to take ages on my own.’

  ‘Teddy will help. She’s a good girl.’ Teddy groaned while Will glowed with enjoyment.

  ‘Grandma, I’m busy with the sheep for the next few days. You know that.’

  ‘Then Will can help you with the sheep work and you’ll help him with the dig. Easy.’

  ‘Why don’t you help him? You know what you’re looking for —’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky.’

  Teddy looked chastened.

  ‘Will, are you all right to teach Teddy what to do?’

  ‘Is she easy to teach?’

  Deirdre glanced at her. ‘Not really. I’m still trying to get her to brush her hair and stand up straight.’

  Teddy rolled her eyes.

  ‘And not to pull faces.’

  ‘She looks a bit soft,’ he said sceptically. ‘She soft?’

  ‘Really?’ Teddy glared at him.

  Deirdre either didn’t understand smart arse-ness or she was choosing to ignore it. She gave Teddy an assessing glance. ‘She’s pretty tough. She’ll complain, all right, but she’s a good worker.’

  Will was leaning on his shovel, moving it back and forth in the dirt like he had a tough decision to make. Like he had plenty of options. He sighed loudly as if he was about to bestow a great favour.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll take her.’ His eyes were on her as he spoke, and Teddy made a note to sever at least two of his toes with the shovel on which he was leaning.

  Deirdre was smiling now. She collected the empty mugs and headed back to Teddy’s place to drop them off.

  She quite liked the look of the Hastings boy, she decided. He had a bit of spirit.

  ‘Come on,’ Will told Teddy. ‘You heard the woman. It’s time to dig.’ He handed her a shovel. ‘I’ve made a couple of passes across the site to see if I can work out what goes where.’ He sat down on his haunches and picked up a handful of red earth.

  ‘Umm, that’s dirt,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty sure I know where that goes.’

  Will looked unimpressed. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said. ‘What I need to work out, and it may not be possible, is the original layout of the rooms. After that I’ll be able to tell which way they were pushed in.’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘Because I spoke to Deirdre and she is most interested in the living room and kitchen. I’m not here for long, so if we can target the dig, we’ll save a lot of time. The complicating factor is that your great-grandfather was fucking crazy and he possibly pushed the house around from every angle, so it may be that all of the room contents are scattered throughout the site.’

  ‘I’m beginning to see why Grandma never bothered.’

  ‘Well – she’s the last person to know it’s down there,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine that your descendants would be coming across it if we don’t dig it up now.’ He stood up and pointed to the corner of the rectangle he had carved already with the Dingo. ‘You start here,’ he instructed, ‘and dig down around 30 centimetres. Then move a metre left to here.’ He gestured a spot where a wooden marker peg stood further down the edge of the dig. ‘And then dig again. I’ll put markers in ahead of you, just follow them with shallow holes, maybe 30 centimetres deep. Then we’ll go around and see if we’re okay to clear out to the new level with the digger, or if we need to concentrate somewhere specifically with a smaller tool.’

  She saluted.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any way you could know this about me,’ he said, ‘but I am super into chicks who salute.’ She stopped and he smiled a wide smile. ‘Oh, I’ve seen it now, babe.’ He winked and headed off to his corner to get started.

  Digging was Teddy’s least favourite job, she decided. She wasn’t big on jobs involving poo, maggots or fixing machinery. But digging was just plain hard work. She’d put in some fence posts during her school holidays once and she’d shed about five kilos in the process. It had been exhausting and hot as hell too, because her father refused to acknowledge the weather in any way when there was work to be done.

  Teddy had dutifully followed him about the farm as a child, sweating like a water feature as he had pressed on, ignorant to her flaking out under the ute or shivering in a low-lying ditch to get out of the freezing wind. Close to him, though. Close enough to see him hunch his shoulders against the icy blast from Albany, or purse his lips and grunt in frustration if the wrench he was holding was one size too small for the leaking trough he was trying to fix. Close enough to watch his hazel eyes squint against the sun, to listen to him telling her about how the lupins were doing this year, or the trick to opening the gate to the old horse paddock.

  Not long now, Teddy, he’d say if she stopped moving so long it looked as if she’d actually died. Nearly done and then home for a cup of tea, eh?

  She stabbed the shovel into the dirt, pulled out a loose sandy pile, did it again, pulled out more sand. Again. Sand. Again.

  ‘Here we are!’ said Will. ‘Come over here and tell me what this is.’ Teddy dropped her shovel with a silent prayer of thanks; she’d been about to fake a heart attack. She went to where Will was digging with a trowel around a cylindrical object which looked as if it may have once been green. He finally prised it free from the earth and handed it to her. The thing was filled with dirt. She knocked it against her hand and some clods fell away.

  ‘See if you can scrape out the dirt inside it,’ he murmured. She took the trowel he handed her and gouged the interior until it revealed itself to be a vessel with a broken handle.

  ‘It’s a jug,’ she confirmed. ‘Is this a caree
r highlight?’

  He winked at her, grinning broadly. ‘Nah,’ he admitted, ‘not yet.’ He indicated her discarded shovel. ‘Keep digging,’ he said, and she felt his blue eyes on her.

  Teddy marched back to her spot and bent to the task. With her face to the cool breeze, which tickled at her collar like impatient fingers, she thought about jugs and teapots and the young woman her grandmother had once been.

  The brisk wind flapped at the polka-dotted curtains, blowing the scent of rosemary from the warm garden into the kitchen.

  ‘Can I borrow this?’ Deirdre was already holding a bright blue polished-cotton floral dress to her torso, twirling around and around so that it flicked up as if the garment was ready to dance.

  Vivian laughed. ‘You only want to wear it because you know it’s my favourite!’

  ‘No! Really! It’s my favourite, too. Look –’ Deirdre gestured at her own wardrobe – ‘you can wear anything I have, you know you can.’

  Viv looked unconvinced, her pretty face pensive. ‘Deirdre, you’ve really got nothing I’d like, but you can wear mine anyway.’

  Deirdre brushed her hands down her petticoat, admiring its starched stiffness and quiet rustle. The curtain wire inside made it swing happily from side to side. She draped the dress over it again and imagined a hush in Windstorm Hall as she entered. Foolishness, of course. She glanced up shyly at Viv, in case she had guessed. She was watching the dress play across the petticoat.

  ‘You wear it, Dee,’ she said. ‘It looks best on you.’

  ‘Thanks, Viv,’ she whispered and stepped into her sister’s dress. ‘Do you think Harry will be there?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, I think so! I don’t think he’d miss a Friday dance!’ Viv giggled and Deirdre grinned at her. She loved her sister. She was a simple girl; beautiful, kind natured and hopeful. Deirdre found her fascinating. She could hardly understand how Viv maintained her sunny façade when their lives revolved around their father.

  Was he awake? Was he drunk again? Was he violent? Or was he weeping like a loose-cheeked child, lying on the floor covered in tears, cheap brandy and piss?