‘And are you going to cut me some slack?’
‘Do you need me to?’
Will leaned in towards her as if he had something to say just as Ernie Sibley came up to the bar.
‘G’day, Teddy.’
‘Hi, Ernie,’ she said, turning in her chair. ‘How’s that fancy stud ram of yours? I saw him in the Elders.’ Ernie paid for his beer and propped up comfortably against the bar behind her.
‘He’s pretty good. The ladies seem to like him, so we’ll see. The last one was a bit of a waste of time. No get up and go.’ He took a sip. ‘My girls were bloody disappointed, I can tell you that much.’
Teddy grinned. ‘We girls like to feel as if a bloke’s interested.’
‘Like Byron,’ supplied Will. Teddy’s face set and she turned slowly to address him.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, bloodlessly. ‘Exactly like Byron.’ She turned back to Ernie.
‘Ernie, are you the kind of person who would make fun of another person because they may have a name of which you disapprove?’
Ernie looked blank. ‘Can’t say I care much about names. Just studs with big balls who know what they want.’
‘Like Byron,’ Will added helpfully.
‘Have you met Audrey’s extremely distant relation, Ernie?’
‘Nah, haven’t had the pleasure.’ He held his hand out across the bar. ‘Ernie Sibley, pleased to meet you.’
‘Will Hastings. I’m here to dig up Deirdre’s old house.’
‘Oh, yeah. I’d heard you were in town,’ Ernie said. ‘Having any luck?’
Will shrugged and finished his beer. ‘Kind of. It’s mostly knives and forks – nothing of particular interest. I guess I was hoping to find something more personal.’
‘You probably feel like you’re wasting everybody’s time, I’d imagine,’ Teddy said sympathetically.
‘Not really.’
‘Oh, that’s good, because I think I would. You know, standing around, looking in a hole, eating cake. Really. I’m sure if I had no hobbies and an excess of spare time I could dig up an old knife or two. Or even something useful, like a toilet maybe.’
‘Your grandma didn’t have a toilet.’
‘Is that why she’s grumpy?’
‘They had a long-drop out the back. Don’t you ever talk to your grandma about her life?’
‘Umm, mostly we talk about The Bachelor.’
‘She does not watch The Bachelor.’
‘Are you kidding me? It’s like going to the Disapproval Royal Show for Grandma! A bunch of women getting smashed and bitching about each other? She has a field day! Sometimes I record it for her because I know she’s going to want to go over it all again.’
‘And are you as disapproving of the world as your grandmother?’ Will asked, as Ernie collected his jug and slipped away to his friend in the corner.
‘Oh, I – well – I’m like a hundred years younger than her, so it takes a lot to shock me.’
‘Really?’
‘Look, are you ready to go?’
Will didn’t appear to be listening to her any more. He reached out and touched her hair and she jerked back, shocked. He reached again and pushed the golden strands gently from her face. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured. ‘Now I can see you.’
‘Don’t touch me,’ she said. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘I can see that.’
‘So, don’t.’
He smiled at her, narrowing his eyes again, like he was starting to work her out. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be worked out.
‘I like you,’ he said. ‘And your crazy red hair.’
‘Well, don’t do that either,’ she said. ‘I’m busy.’
‘On the farm.’
‘Yes.’
He took another sip of beer while he considered her. The silence was weirding her out.
‘I’m off home to get the milking done,’ she announced. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.
Will leapt to his feet and drained his glass. ‘If you’re leaving I need a lift.’ He fell into step beside her.
‘You drink too much,’ she grumbled and headed for the door.
Teddy tried to ignore Will on the drive home, but it was difficult. She probably couldn’t have ignored him even if he was still at the pub. And he wasn’t, he was sitting right there beside her in the passenger seat. It was late afternoon and the shadows cast by the salmon gums were already long and lengthening even more. The valleys were in shadow now, deep green, and the bright viridescent leaves of the new crops glowed in the warm light. There had been rain over the last month, a good season, and the dams were full, reflecting the fading sky, the soft apricot coloured glow of the sun’s rays as they made their final arc overhead. It had often struck Teddy, who watched the sky so closely, as one of the gentlest skies; not yet too cold, but soft. A soft sky, soft pasture, soft green crops, soft lambs and a soft warm sun departing them all.
‘It’s beautiful out here,’ Will said as they drove.
‘Yeah.’
‘You must love it.’
‘It’s my home. Of course I do,’ she said.
He turned his attention away from the trees flashing past the car window to observe her. She gripped the steering wheel a little harder.
‘Fair enough,’ he said.
Teddy felt guilty. She didn’t want to be rude but she really didn’t want to acknowledge him; she wanted to be alone. He had touched her, twice now, and it was weird. When they pulled into the house yard, Cow was already waiting by the fence. She climbed quickly out of the car, glad for the excuse to get away. There had been way too much intimacy between them for her liking and now there was him forcing her into things she didn’t want to do, and general hanging out.
‘Can I watch you milk?’ Will asked.
She groaned inwardly – and maybe a tiny bit outwardly as well, so that he’d know she was busy and not up for sightseers.
‘Sure,’ she sighed and went to open the gate leading to the cowshed. Cow wandered in with a long glance at Will and settled herself at the feed bin. Teddy took up her position on her little stool, self-conscious.
‘Come on, Cow,’ she coaxed. ‘Move your leg.’ Cow settled in for afternoon tea. Teddy ran her hand absent-mindedly along Cow’s flank and under to a spot on her neck where she liked to be scratched. Cow made a low noise of appreciation and Teddy reached for the metal pail. She found her cloth and wiped down her teats and set to work, firmly squeezing them and feeling the warm pressure under her hands as they filled again with milk. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Cow chewed her oats contentedly and two willie wagtails collected at the fence posts of the cattle yard to look for insects.
It was getting cooler as the day faded, and Teddy began to wonder if she should have set the fire before she left the house earlier.
‘Can I have a go?’ His voice was soft but she startled and jerked Cow’s teat, causing her to give a grumbling moo. Teddy turned around slowly so she’d look cool with her hands on a pair of enormous nipples.
‘Sure,’ she whispered. She cleared her throat. ‘Sorry. Yeah, sure.’ That was better. He smiled at her and ran his hand down the cow’s warm fur.
‘What’s first?’ he asked.
‘You ever milked anything before?’
‘Nah, not officially.’ She rolled her eyes and gave him her seat. It was juvenile but she could kind of understand it. He moved in beside her and the right-hand side of her body started to flush with warmth.
‘Okay, so you grasp the teat.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And grip the top of it between your thumb and index finger.’ She demonstrated. ‘Then you close the rest of your fingers around it, kind of in descending order but quickly.’ Warm milk spurted into the bucket. ‘Your go.’
Will reached out and grasped the teat in his hand. He squeezed. Cow flicked her ears and kept eating. Nothing. Teddy was secretly pleased. Milking wasn’t that hard to do, but at least she had one life skill he didn’t.
‘Like this,’ she muttered. She showed him again, pumping a few good handfuls of milk before she let him take a turn. He watched her work and she was surprised that he seemed genuinely interested. ‘Your go,’ she said and he leaned in to try. At first there was nothing, then the first gentle trickle of milk, and then – success – the milk began to fill the pail.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’re a quick learner.’
He was grinning. ‘When I want to be,’ he assured her. ‘Now you’ll have to keep me company while I do your job for you.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t leave Cow in the hands of an amateur anyway.’
‘Very wise. Why is your dog called Dog and your cow called Cow?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ Teddy said. ‘Grandma’s not given to flights of fancy.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘So tell me about you.’ Teddy winced visibly.
‘I’m really not that interesting.’
‘Yeah you are,’ he said staring at Cow’s udder. ‘Audrey tells me your family has always lived here.’
‘My great-great-grandfather cleared the place. And it looks like Hamish will be taking it on to the next generation.’
‘When did your dad die?’
‘Two and a half years ago. It was brutal. He died in Perth. He hadn’t been out here for a while, he was too sick. Mum looked after him in Perth and when he died I think she saw it as a good time to get away. She finds Deirdre a bit much at times. She’s gone back to nursing in Perth, but she still visits when she can.’
‘And what happened to your grandad, Deirdre’s husband? You said he died before your dad did?’
‘He had a stroke before I was born. It was major, he was never the same again. Grandma nursed him until he died about ten years ago.’
‘Did he get back his mobility?’
‘He could move about but he was slow, and frail. He’d ride in the ute, but he didn’t drive. And he could get some of the paperwork done, his writing hand wasn’t too bad, but his speech was affected, and it kept him at home. He didn’t want people to see.’
‘Wow. Deirdre had to take on a lot.’
Teddy nodded. ‘She’s tough but she’s had to be.’
They were silent for a while as he worked, and she watched his hands moving above the pail.
‘And you like the farm?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Why?’
Teddy paused, wondering if he was insulting her or if he was just treating their conversation with the same care and attention he gave to digging, to milking, to stories.
‘Because it’s peaceful, I know everyone, I’m useful to my family . . .’ He made a noise in his throat that sounded like he was unconvinced. ‘What?’ she demanded. The milk was running dry.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘That sounds like more than enough.’
Teddy patted Cow on the rump to dismiss her, collected the bucket and made for Deirdre’s place. Will’s comments had stung.
‘Hey.’ Will fell into step next to her. ‘Have I offended you?’ he asked.
‘Do you care?’
‘I really do.’
She didn’t stop walking and milk slopped over the sides of the bucket. ‘So, don’t be rude!’
‘Hey, Teddy. Stop.’
She stopped and put down the bucket.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I get that you’re impressive and crap but I’m not so dumb and colloquial that I don’t recognise a conversation designed to make me look limited. There are plenty of well-educated, well-travelled people with empty lives and empty souls, so don’t patronise me with your that sounds like more than enough bullshit. You don’t know me.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, and gingerly reached for her hand. ‘I guess I’m not used to contentment. I’ve never really felt it myself.’
‘How sad for you.’ She wrenched her wrist away from him and went through the gate into the house yard.
‘Hey!’ he called as she kicked off her boots. ‘Don’t forget you’re helping me dig this house up tomorrow!’
‘Get stuffed!’ she yelled back and shut the front door.
Teddy sat at the empty kitchen table for a while, listening to Will’s gentle voice talking to Dog across the darkening house yard. After a quiet spell, the sound of the mandolin being played softly rose up. She put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear him any more: him or his mandolin or the sound of his digging in the yard. His presence was everywhere. It was like he was creeping inside her head and telling her truths she had been avoiding for a long time.
The truth was that sometimes she’d drive to the front road and then remember something she’d forgotten back at the house or decide the ute was making a strange noise and she’d better not risk it, and she’d turn around and head slowly back up the drive, her skin running chilled with fear and hot with shame. Then she would stop the car and sit staring at her little house – waiting for her heart to stop pounding in her chest and scrambling to find a reason, a logical reason, she couldn’t pull out onto Wickepin Road. And then, as often as not, the car door would be opened for her, and her grandmother’s reassuring hands would prise hers from the steering wheel.
‘I’ve got the kettle on,’ she’d say, and she’d march off into her house, as if tea could fix everything, leaving Teddy to follow her back inside, ignoring the insistent questions pressing on her mind, and the cold wind as it rushed past her down the drive.
‘You’re not wearing that?’ Viv said. ‘He’s only showing you the farm!’
Deirdre stepped back inside, looked down at her bright blue sailor dress, cinched at the waist, and twirled it around her. She had made it for the Friday dance at Windstorm the month before and it was very smart indeed. She’d had to put a bit of a heel with it so she was aware she was perhaps a little overdone. All right, she conceded to herself, it was probably too smart. But no matter.
‘I certainly am!’ she replied stoutly across the kitchen. ‘I’m going out with a man and I’m making an effort. You don’t catch a man like Harry Parkinson without making an effort!’
Viv rolled her eyes. ‘You’ll look desperate, Deirdre. He’ll think you’re trying to get your claws in to get out of this place.’ Deirdre smacked her lips together. Bright red.
‘I am,’ she said. Viv drew back, shocked. ‘Don’t you look at me like that, Viv. I like Harry. I really like him.’ She gently arranged her hair. ‘In fact, I think I may be falling in love with him.’
‘Deirdre! Really?’ Viv flapped like a little bird. ‘But you always like all the boys.’ Deirdre smoothed the glossy dress across her slim hips.
‘Not this time, Viv. This is the one for me. I don’t care if I’m overdressed and I bet he doesn’t either!’ Viv looked worried. Perhaps she thought Deirdre was being silly, having such thoughts for a new man she didn’t yet know properly. Perhaps she thought she’d change her mind. But the truth was she wouldn’t. Harry was an ideas man. Since he had arrived in town she had seen that he was going places, and she was too. Deirdre hugged her sister.
‘Don’t worry, Vivvy. It’ll work out. Harry and I will marry and make enough money to leave this place forever. And I’ve decided – you’re coming too!’
Viv let out a little sniff, as if she were stifling a sob.
Deirdre gently shook her. ‘I hope you’re not being sentimental, Viv. That’s my job! We’ll take you with us and build a better life away from this place and those old biddies at the dances and away from Dad. Far away from Dad.’
Her sister gripped her in silent gratitude. ‘We’ll stick together, Deirdre,’ she whispered. ‘Always together, okay? Not like Mum.’
‘No,’ Deirdre said. ‘Not like Mum. We’re family, Vivian, and we’ll always look after each other. Don’t you forget it.’
When Deirdre pulled in to the Parkinson’s farm, Harry was on the verandah waiting for her. He quickly came down to the car, taking in the dress and the woman i
nside it.
‘This must be my lucky day. Elizabeth Taylor has just stepped onto my farm!’ He took her hand, led her up the verandah steps and guided her through a slow twirl. His hand was warm in hers and his eyes were alight with pleasure. Deirdre giggled.
‘And to think I nearly didn’t wear this outfit,’ she said. ‘Viv was worried you’d think I was overdressed.’
‘Of course you are,’ he replied. ‘And I wouldn’t have you any other way. Beautiful!’ He kissed her cheek and she lifted her hand to the spot as he withdrew.
‘And how is Viv this morning? Is she stuck with all the chores?’
‘Only the ones I didn’t get to,’ Deirdre said. ‘She hates to get up in the morning and then she moans when I’m reading a good book on the back verandah in the evenings while she’s hanging washing!’
‘I’ve been getting up early, too,’ he said. ‘Milking my cows. Would you like to come and have a look?’ Deirdre glanced over at the paddock. Not really.
‘Certainly!’ she smiled as graciously as the Queen did when offered a posy of flowers that had obviously been stomped on.
‘You might have to tread carefully,’ Harry warned.
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ she declared. ‘I’m from the country!’ Harry laughed. It was a wonderful sound and it warmed her entire body.
‘All right,’ Harry was saying as they reached the cows standing by the fence. ‘Just sit yourself on the stool.’
Deirdre lowered herself with as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn’t a lot and wasn’t helped by the stool sinking into the soft earth at one corner. Her skirt began to dangle in the mud.
‘Perhaps you could tuck your dress up a bit,’ Harry suggested, and Deirdre flushed. She dragged her skirt and slip to her knees and then clamped them together like a Catholic schoolgirl. Harry nodded approvingly. ‘Ready?’ he said.
Deirdre nodded.
‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘You just wrap your hands around the teat. Don’t pull at it – that’s it. Just firmly seal off the top of the teat and move the milk through to the bottom.’ Deirdre squeezed. The cow shifted impatiently to let Deirdre know she had a couple of tries left before the cow started kicking. ‘Try again,’ Harry said kindly. ‘You’ll get it.’
The Cowgirl Page 9