‘Well done,’ he whispered. ‘You did it.’
‘Georgina did it,’ she said. ‘I just caught her on the way out.’
‘You took charge. She was as relaxed as she was because you didn’t lose your shit. I would have.’
‘Nah, she wouldn’t have let you see her vagina anyway,’ she said. She felt him smile.
‘It’s crazy, isn’t it?’ he murmured into her hair. ‘There’s a new person in the world. And I provided the towels. I like to think that’s half the job.’
‘At least half, I would have thought.’ Her tears wouldn’t stop.
He looked down and caught her crying. ‘You okay?’ he said quietly.
‘Yeah. Just – big morning. It’s so moving, seeing life come into the world.’
‘I’ll get you a tea,’ he said, releasing her. ‘I know that’s what you country women like.’
She grinned at him. ‘Yeah, we do,’ she said.
Hamish arrived half an hour later and he and Georgina left for the hospital.
‘I’ll feed the chooks and take Clancy home with me,’ Teddy told them, and they were off to Narrogin Hospital for a few nights to recover. Together, Teddy and Will tidied the house and took care of the chooks. They worked quietly, Teddy thinking about the tiny child, her little fingers and the soft, pliable warmth of her in her arms. ‘You okay?’ Will asked occasionally. Eventually it was time to go, and they shut the garden gate behind them on the way to the ute.
‘I’m driving,’ Will said, then called for Dog and Clancy. ‘Makes me feel useful.’ He looked over at her. ‘Is there anything you country women can’t do?’
Teddy shrugged. ‘Probably not,’ she said. He gave her another hug, and this time, she hugged him back.
‘What was that for?’ she asked.
‘A few things – for being amazing today, because I felt like celebrating, and also because I thought I could get away with it.’
Will ruffled Clancy’s neck on the way to the driver’s side, climbed in and drove them home.
Hamish called from the hospital the next morning enlisting Teddy’s help: he was hoping to get some crutching done while Georgina was recuperating. Typical farmer. She filled her water bottle and went out to the ute. The dogs had been chasing rabbits in the dawn light and were happily snoozing in the pale sun. She whistled and they leapt up into the back tray, wagging their tails. The morning sun stretched across the yard and danced through the dirty windows of the vehicle. She started the ute and headed up the fenced race that went across the property, linking paddocks to make moving livestock and machinery easier, without the need to constantly open and close gates. Her grandfather had put it in years ago, and it made working the farm easier for Hamish and Teddy every day.
‘Hey!’ It was Will. ‘Where are you going?’ She pulled in and switched off the ute as he approached. The man was really committed to his rural exchange.
‘Out to bring a mob of sheep in for Hamish,’ she said.
‘Can I come?’
She shrugged. ‘Sure.’
He strode around to the passenger’s side and climbed in.
‘Can I ask you a favour?’ he said, turning to her in the cabin.
‘Depends.’
‘Can you teach me to whistle?’
‘You don’t know how to whistle?’ She leaned back into the driver’s seat in amazement.
‘Not like you just did – that loud thing. Can’t do it.’ He smiled. ‘Come on, I taught you to dig.’
‘I feel like I knew that already.’
Will pursed his lips and whistled softly, omitting a squeaky little whoosh sound.
‘Pathetic!’
‘I know!’
‘First thing is to make a loop with your fingers.’ She made an okay sign with her left thumb and forefinger. Then she slipped them into her mouth while Will watched, fascinated. ‘They need to fold your tongue down,’ she gurgled. He peered into her mouth, and he was too close. She blew hard and the sound was piercing. He winced, drew back. Dog was barking with excitement.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘My turn.’ He made the ring shape.
‘Not like that,’ she murmured. She formed the shape with his hand while he stared at her. ‘It’s really not hard,’ she promised. ‘Now, you have to fold your tongue back.’ He tried. Failed. Tried again.
‘Are you sure this is what you do?’ he asked.
She grinned. ‘Yep, but I’ve been doing it for a while,’ she allowed.
He had a couple more goes and she started the ute. ‘I’m going to practise.’ he said. ‘I want to impress you.’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But don’t get too up yourself if it works out for you, I’m actually pretty easy to impress.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ he said. They were heading across a low rise that fell away on one side to a large dam. A pair of mountain geese circled the water, calling out in the fresh morning air. ‘So why are we getting the sheep in?’ he asked.
‘Crutching,’ she said. ‘The flies come back at this time of year.’
‘Okay,’ he said, comfortably. ‘I hope you don’t mind company.
Teddy shrugged. ‘Makes a change,’ she said. ‘You can tell me about Audrey. Are you two close?’
‘Yeah, pretty close. She’s always been there for me and now I want to do a few things for her.’
‘How are you related?’
‘She’s my mother’s second cousin.’
‘But you two hang out.’
‘We don’t “hang out” exactly, but we’re family.’
Teddy glanced into the next paddock, dark green with grass, and smattered with large granite rocks which had been bulldozed into a corner and left like lazy sentinals. She spotted the mob and pulled up to the gate. She couldn’t even name her mother’s second cousin.
When they got out they collected the mob sheltering from the wind behind the dam and started to take them back down to the main house through the fresh green capeweed growing down the slopes. It was thick and lush and even though it wasn’t the greatest feed for sheep, they were happy enough to eat it.
Teddy breathed in the polleny scent on the warming breeze. When she had been young her father had told her the yellow flowers were buttercups. Rub them under your chin, Teddy, and we’ll see if you like butter. Of course she had believed him, just as she had followed his directions to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, just as she had looked for fairies in the gardens for hours because she had woken to find toadstools on the dewy lawn outside. Her father knew where all the magic was kept on the farm. He put it there himself. One day in late winter her mother had sent Teddy over to Deirdre’s with some eggs, and as she’d opened the door to Teddy’s cheerful buttercupped grin she’d blasted, Have you been rubbing capeweed on your face again?
The sheep moved slowly and nimbly, their small hooves emitting a soft rumble as they made their way between the paddocks.
‘So, this boyfriend,’ Will asked as the mob reached a bend in the race that slowed them down to a dawdle, ‘how tall is he?’
Teddy shrugged. ‘I dunno. Six one?’
‘Short, then.’
‘No, he’s not. Maybe he’s six three. I never paid much attention.’
‘So you have to reach right up to kiss him?’
‘Uh, yeah. Is this relevant?’
‘Good kisser?’
‘He’s fine. Thanks for your concern. Moving on.’
‘Good hands?’
‘What?’
‘Your boyfriend. Has he got good hands?’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Oh, now I’m sad,’ he told her, watching a ewe pause to nibble grass while her lamb butted against her udder. ‘Because you’d know if he had good hands.’ He wore an expression of exaggerated sympathy. ‘Better luck with the next one, eh?’
‘Are you ever going to shut up?’
‘Just making conversation.’
‘Then talk about football.’ The mob had stalle
d up ahead. Teddy banged on the door of the ute to move them along, and they cantered further up the race while she fiddled with the radio that hadn’t worked for years.
‘I don’t know anything about football,’ Will said. ‘You?’
‘Nope.’ There was another long silence, broken only by the high sound of lambs bleating for their mothers further up in the mob.
‘So, should we talk about this boyfriend of yours again?’
‘Nope.’
There was a caramel mud cake waiting for them when they made it home. Still just warm, it was smothered with what Teddy could tell was Deirdre’s Southern Caramel icing. She’d met a charming woman at the Dowerin Field day once who’d passed on the recipe. Teddy wasn’t sure how to make it, but she knew it involved sugar, buttermilk, and a lot of mucking about in front of the stove. The cake was sitting on a floral platter in the middle of Teddy’s kitchen table pretending it had been no trouble at all to make.
‘Grandma’s been baking,’ she said. ‘I think she’s picked you as a mud cake kind of guy.’
‘Wow, she’s good. I love mud cake,’ he said. ‘Of course I love pretty much any cake. But mud cake, you know, it’s a classic. Check out the icing.’ He dipped his finger into it for a taste and began nodding his head slowly in satisfaction.
‘She’ll be glad you like it. She likes to think she can match the cake with the person.’
‘What sort of cake are you?’
Teddy laughed. ‘Funnily enough, she’s never been able to work that out.’ She went to the kitchen counter to fetch some plates.
‘And have you?’ he asked. Teddy pretended she hadn’t heard and picked up the two-way from the kitchen corner.
‘Channel five. You on channel, Grandma?’ Will lowered himself onto a kitchen chair and watched her holding the black speaker to her mouth, looking out of her window towards Deirdre’s house.
‘On channel.’
‘I’m putting the kettle on.’
‘Coming over.’
Teddy hung up the receiver and started to make tea. ‘She’s on her way,’ she announced unnecessarily, and fussed about the kitchen while Will observed her from the table in that way of his.
It was weird. He was making her feel weird.
She was glad Deirdre was coming; she knew where she was when Deirdre was there. She knew who she was. She knew what conversation they’d have. She knew who to ask her about so that Deirdre would launch into the life history of Mr Honeyman, who had owned the co-op for so many years, or of Mrs Beswick who sat up straighter than the Queen, or of Luise Hofmann’s sister, who as a girl had eaten hot apricots from a tree and died.
Teddy fluttered about the kitchen like an idiot and peered out of the window again, longing to see her grandmother’s stout frame marching across the house yard towards her, as if she and arthritis were entirely unacquainted. Eventually, she came.
‘You there?’ Deirdre. Teddy swallowed.
‘Yeah, come in.’ There was the sound of Deirdre greeting Dog.
‘Don’t you jump up, you smelly thing. What have you found, eh? I’ll be chucking you in the dam later, what do you think of that?’ Teddy rushed to the door like Will was about to deliver a baby and Deirdre had made it there just in time.
‘Hi, Grandma,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You’ve been baking!’
Deirdre stopped in the doorway, looking at her quizzically, while Teddy sent up a silent prayer, which was answered a moment later when Deirdre walked inside without further comment.
‘Will says he loves mud cake!’ she gibbered. ‘Don’t you, Will?’ There was a pause while Will considered helping her out.
‘Yes, Teddy’s right,’ he said eventually. ‘I promise to find you something worthwhile in the dig today to show my appreciation.’ Deirdre looked uncomfortable. Gratitude was not her favourite emotion.
‘Well, just find what you find,’ she grumbled, ‘that’s all. No need to make silly promises.’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t found any family treasure yet.’
‘There’s probably none to find,’ Deirdre said. ‘Anything of value would have been sold by my father for drink a long time ago.’
Probably? Teddy poured her another cup, and added some extra water. Her father’s voice came back to her. The princess with the heart of gold.
Deirdre continued. ‘He was a hard man. He drank, he fought down at the pub, he owed money to all sorts of people. It was no wonder my mother left us.’
‘She left you?’ Will asked. ‘Just upped and left?’
‘Don’t you judge her, Will Hastings. You don’t know what it’s like to be trapped.’ He regarded Deirdre silently and Teddy had the strangest feeling he disagreed. ‘She left us all because she had nowhere to go and no one to go to. How could she have dragged two young girls to Perth with no money, no job and no prospects?’ Deirdre took a long sip of her watery tea. ‘No. She left us and it causes me many regrets. But I’m an old lady and I’m getting sentimental. If you could find something that belonged to her then perhaps it will feel as if she left me something to remember her by.’ Teddy observed her grandmother. She’d heard the story about Dolly so many times, she’d forgotten it was real. That her daughter was still here, waiting to hear from her, whatever it took.
‘I’ll try,’ said Will. ‘Tell me about the old shearing shed, Deirdre. It looks like they used jarrah when it was built.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Deirdre began, and launched into one of her favourite topics: the history of the farm. It was a modest history, really, but that never stopped her enjoying the retelling immensely. She spoke with pride about the clearing and building, about the other families who settled the district at the same time, about the sandalwood cutters who came through in the thirties, and about how farmers walked off their properties during the Depression. Teddy filled her cup and listened to the stories again.
After some time had passed, Deirdre looked up at the clock.
‘Well,’ she declared. ‘I can’t hang about here all day, I’ve got work to do. You both working on the dig first thing?’
‘Yeah,’ Will said. ‘Teddy’s turning out to be pretty useful.’
‘Good,’ said Deirdre as she took to her feet again. ‘I’ll see you both out there in the morning.’ And she was off again to sweep the verandah, iron the washing, water the garden and milk the cow.
‘Morning, Cow,’ Teddy whispered and Cow nosed against her.
She had been up early that day, straggling outside into the chilled air at five o’clock, pulling her jumper over her head and her boots onto her feet. Dog had raised his head from his rug on the verandah as she passed, then flopped down and pretended to be asleep. He did it every winter. She had crunched across the gravel in the yard, looking for Cow’s familiar shape in the gloom. She heard a familiar heavy plodding sound and knew she was there.
She fetched her bucket, and they began. The air moving past her fingers was cold and the sun was miles away.
By the time Teddy arrived at the dig it looked like Will had been there for a while. There was a bitter wind blowing his dark hair about but his attention was consumed by the skeleton of the house. Teddy had heard Deirdre pointing out different areas that might be of interest, then she’d announced she was busy and had marched back into her house to get ready for a busy bee planting annuals outside the town hall.
‘Morning,’ said Will.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked, staring at a new hole he’d dug.
‘Not bad, not great,’ he said. ‘I think that’s what’s left of an armchair. I’ll probably just push it out, but I wanted to be sure it wasn’t something important.’
Teddy pulled a face. ‘I suspect we can be pretty sure none of it is,’ she said.
‘Glad you’re here.’ He handed her a trowel. ‘Dig.’
They worked together for the rest of the day, with Teddy digging out areas Will hoped would yield potential keepsakes from Deirdre’s past. They didn’t, although he spent a large amount of time be
side her, guiding her hand or pressing into the earth with his fingers, as if he could divine Deirdre’s trove by touch.
When the air cooled around them he looked up and rubbed his filthy hands on his jeans.
‘Your turn to start the fire,’ he said and dumped a wheelbarrow full of sand onto a larger pile a short distance from the dig.
‘Why is it my turn?’
‘Just is.’
She sniffed and wandered off to set the fire. For the past couple of days, Deirdre had been sporadically dragging kindling to the firepit, mainly small dead branches. It was her way of helping on the dig. The wind had been bitter as they had worked, but now it was dying down. The ute had been parked as a windbreak to the firepit behind, with a couple of outdoor chairs settled around it in a makeshift camp. She kicked at the old jam posts she’d piled up earlier, and distributed a good pile of kindling and sticks. Will approached the site while she bent low with her back to the remaining breeze. The match struck and she dropped it onto yesterday’s scrunched-up newspaper, watching the burning teardrop form around it and the bright orange glow flicker.
Will hovered behind her for a few moments, then settled into the chair closest to her with the warmth on his face.
‘Deirdre told me how you met Byron – an old uni mate introduced you?’
‘Yeah,’ she answered. ‘But it’s complicated.’
‘Is that because you made him up?’
‘Why do you think I made him up?’ Geez.
Will shrugged. ‘Just a feeling.’
‘Is that feeling that no one would want me?’
‘It’s pretty much the opposite of that feeling, actually.’
‘Well, what then?’
‘Byron.’
‘He didn’t name himself.’
‘No. I believe Catherine Gordon probably did that.’
‘Who?’
‘His mother – she was a Scottish heiress.’
‘Oh, come on!’
‘Why don’t you come to the pub after this and we can talk about it some more?’ He reached out to touch her shoulder but she shook him off.
‘And why would I want to hang out with some guy who says I’m a liar?’
The Cowgirl Page 11