The Cowgirl

by Anthea Hodgson

  Teddy emptied half the cake into her face.

  ‘Thought so, I’m beginning to form a picture. Give me a second to digest – the cake, I mean, the picture is already there.’

  Teddy moved impatiently.

  ‘Okay. So, you love the farm, love your scary grandma – who’s great but terrifying, and don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Everyone’s noticed. I think her name is listed on some sort of freaky-shit superhero website for if we ever get invaded by aliens. And if she isn’t she should be, because I’d be calling her for sure.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Right. So you like it here but here comes Will, and he obviously likes you and who wouldn’t like that? Apart from Deirdre, she won’t love it, and now you’re wondering about leaving for . . . a holiday?’

  ‘Cate,’ Teddy whispered. ‘I don’t even know what I’m thinking any more. I – I couldn’t leave. I have to look after Grandma, milk the cow —’

  ‘The cow? Seriously, Teddy, find a better excuse!’ Cate snapped her fingers. ‘I know what it is! You’re half-sick of shadows!’

  ‘Huh?’

  Cate was grinning in triumph. ‘“Lady of Shallot.” Tennyson. You know, the poor chick doomed to watch the world through a mirror, never taking part – just watching and weaving a tapestry of other people going down to Camelot to fall in love and fight battles . . .’

  ‘Oh, God. You look cool but you’re really a closet geek?’

  ‘Don’t even get me started on Star Wars. Anyway, one bit goes “I am half-sick of shadows,” said the Lady of Shallot.’

  ‘And what happens to her?’

  ‘Well, Lancelot passes by and she has to see him, really see him, so she risks it. She left the web, she left the loom, she made three paces thro’ the room, and she dashes to the window to see him pass by with her own eyes, to try to grasp really living. She is so taken with this guy, so desperate to live that she rushes over and looks out to glimpse life!’

  ‘Then what happens?’

  Cate winced.

  ‘Out flew the web and floated wide; the mirror crack’d from side to side; “The curse is come upon me,” cried The Lady of Shallot. Ultimately she dies. She leaves a pretty corpse that floats in a boat past Lancelot and I have to say, he’s not that impressed really.’

  ‘Great.’ Teddy picked up a fake pearl necklace.

  ‘But you know what?’ Cate said, reaching for inspiration,

  ‘Maybe she just went, Fuck it. I’m not living in fear of this damn curse any more. If there’s no real life for me, then let’s get on with it and end it now. Or let’s just roll the dice and risk it. Maybe she just thought, I’m going to live right now or not at all. Because I refuse to be afraid of living any more.’

  Teddy sucked on a walnut. ‘Yes,’ she said, turning over the pearls.

  ‘But it’s still not great as an inspiring story, I think you’d agree . . .’

  Cate grinned. ‘Yeah, sorry. But I assume she died happy,’ she said apologetically. ‘Anyway, it’s just a story.’ Cate stood up to leave. ‘Tennyson was probably being a dick. That whole thing didn’t go where I wanted it to.’ Cate picked up the plates, smiled brightly and left.

  Teddy twirled the shining plastic pearls around her wrists like chains, and listened to Deirdre’s distant voice as she grumbled about the state of the kitchen.

  ‘I am half-sick of shadows,’ she whispered to herself, and the bright blue wind whistled past the tiny windows of the Windstorm Hall.

  Viv’s golden hair was tangled by the late spring wind, which was warmer now, and softer, beginning to dry the crops and suck the lush greenness from the sheep feed.

  ‘Look at the size of this!’ They were standing outside the welfarehut that had served as the Windstorm church for almost a decade, Viv waving a clump of wild oats. ‘No wonder Val said she couldn’t see the garden any more – these are huge!’

  ‘More weeding please, Viv,’ said Deirdre cheerily. ‘If you’re going to announce every whopper, we’ll take all day.’

  Viv swung the weeds enthusiastically around her head then lobbed them onto the small pile in the wheelbarrow. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy from the fresh air and activity, and the sunlight was making her hair glow. Deirdre grinned at her, comforted by her presence.

  ‘Are you two doing more good deeds?’ It was Harry, leaning out of the window of his ute, his dark curly hair flopping down across his eyes.

  Deirdre beamed. ‘Harry! How lovely to see you here.’ She dropped her spade and crossed to his car window. ‘You have business in town?’

  ‘The damn cattle keep taking down the fences, so I had to pick up some stuff for the fencing. We need to fix them and replace a few. The buggers just seem to walk right through them!’

  ‘So, it’s not all easy street then,’ she observed.

  He pushed his hand through his dark hair. ‘They’re keeping me busier than I realised, Deirdre, I have to admit,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I didn’t think about how constant the milking is.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Deirdre told him. ‘You’ll get used to it. And they’ll make you rich one day so you can employ a manager to take on the daily routine!’

  ‘Sounds great to me,’ he said, and glanced over her shoulder. ‘I can help you two for a minute if you like,’ he offered, and Viv giggled.

  ‘Of course we would. If you were a gentleman you’d already be pulling weeds!’ she said. Harry climbed out of the car and made his way around the piles of weeds and tools.

  ‘Now you’ve made me feel bad,’ he grumbled happily.

  ‘Don’t feel bad, just get digging!’ Viv said. Harry looked at her warmly and Deirdre felt a wave of satisfaction that her new family was coming together.

  She fetched the wheelbarrow and manoeuvred it across the churchyard while it wobbled and protested. It was half-filled with weeds and about to topple. She made it to the ute and began to throw huge armfuls into the back, listening to the chatter between Harry and Vivian while she worked.

  A car came by and slowed. It was Mr Honeyman, his fluffy grey hair combed carefully back and his large glasses sliding down on his nose. He smiled at her. ‘You need a hand there, Deirdre?’ he called out of the window.

  ‘No thanks, Mr Honeyman. We’ll be done soon.’

  ‘Bit of a busy bee, eh?’

  ‘Yes, we thought we’d get the garden cleared now then leave it for a few weeks so Audrey and Ida could come and help us prune some of the hedges and tidy the garden up.’

  ‘Good idea. But don’t make it too pretty or we’ll be overrun by tourists!’ A car had rolled slowly up behind him and its horn tooted.

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve hit peak hour again!’ It was Ida calling out of the ute window. She had a white dog sitting next to her in the front seat.

  ‘Where are you and your boyfriend off to?’ Deirdre asked. Ida was in her town clothes.

  ‘This is Ghosty, he’s Jack’s. He’s got something in his paw and it’s infected. I’m taking him to Narrogin. Hello, Mr Honeyman!’

  Mr Honeyman stuck his head out of the window. ‘G’day, Ida. It seems too early for grass seeds, but my poor dog had terrible trouble with them last year.’

  ‘I think Ghosty’s the same. I expect the vet’s going to have to cut his paw and dig around a bit.’ Ghosty glanced uneasily out of the window towards the lake as if he was considering his options. Ida stuck her head out of the window a little more.

  ‘I must say,’ she added, ‘I had thought I’d give him a bit of a wash before we saw the vet, but he convinced me he was every kind of delightful.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Turns out he’s a liar.’ Ghosty gazed smellily into the middle distance.

  ‘I’d better be off,’ said Mr Honeyman. ‘I’m just collecting Norm Kingston for the Road Board meeting in Wickepin.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Audrey told him. ‘We’ll probably see you at the debutante ball, won’t we?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Honeyman, ‘I’ll be there! Mrs Honeyman and I are looking for
ward to seeing all you young ladies dressed up with your partners. It will be the event of the year!’ He drove away with a toot of the horn and a wave of his hand.

  ‘Well, I’ll be there, of course – and probably still smelling like dog! You finishing up soon?’ Ida said, eyeing the pile of weeds in the ute. ‘I can come in anytime next week.’

  ‘Yes, Viv and Harry are out the back doing the last of the wild oats around the loo.’

  ‘Are they?’ Ida asked. ‘He’s being very helpful.’

  ‘He’s a special man, Ida!’

  ‘I hope he knows how lucky he is!’ she responded and revved her engine. ‘Say hello to them both for me. I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my appointment.’ She looked over at Ghosty, who stared back at her like it definitely wasn’t him. ‘Do you think I should just chuck him in the lake?’

  ‘No,’ said Deirdre. ‘You’re too soft hearted. If you toss him in the lake, you’ll only feel bad and then you’ll have to sit next to a wet dog and that would be worse!’

  Ida laughed. ‘You’re right!’ She held up her hand and drove away.

  Deirdre brushed off her work skirt and wandered out the back to find her team. Viv and Harry were laughing about a Dad and Dave episode they’d both heard on the wireless. Harry was really rather good at Dad and Dave impressions; she hadn’t realised. She laughed and they turned when they heard she was back.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Vivian said accusingly. ‘We’ve been working our fingers to the bone back here, and I hear you flirting with dear old Mr Honeyman!’

  ‘Ha!’ Deirdre said. ‘Fingers to the bone? You’ve only pulled up five weeds between you!’ She scooped up the little pile and took it back to the ute. It made her happy to see Viv and Harry getting on so well.

  She often lay in bed at night and listened to her father snoring, and thought about the day she and Harry would leave forever. Sell the silly cows, move to Perth and live the life they both wanted. Not this small-town existence, where everybody knew her business.

  Deirdre glanced up the street now to where a woman was carrying a box of groceries to her car. The Windstorm street was as neat as a pin, Mr Honeyman saw to that.

  The large front window of the co-op gleamed, the Windstorm pub stood proudly on the corner, opposite the butcher’s shop, the bakery and the post office, and the town’s wheat silos overlooked the little street that sprang to life on Friday afternoons. The silos observed all manner of comings and goings: trucks and utes and dogs; ladies in hats, children begging their mothers for money for lollies; farming tools and vegetables; cotton sheets, dishes, dog food, fertiliser, new car tyres, letters from abroad. It all came through the Windstorm street, which bustled along in its own modest way like a little song, the tempo picking up, slowing down, and pausing each night while everyone turned the page.

  Deirdre was tired of the tune, though. She wanted to live in the city where she could reinvent herself, where she could work in a glamorous dress shop during the day and dance all night to music she hadn’t even heard yet. Where she would return to Harry, where she might start a family, and where Viv would be the guest of honour at all the family occasions with a husband of her own.

  Deirdre turned back to where Harry and Viv were pulling weeds. Her new family was everything to her. Her father was going to become a distant memory, a tale she’d tell from so far away she’d scarcely believe it herself. It was not who she was; it was not where she was going. She bent over her spade and dug again and again, encouraged by the idea of her freedom and by her pleasure at the sound of Harry’s and Viv’s laughter, which sounded to her like music.

  Barnaby was shrieking from the old pepper tree again when they got back from the dress rehearsals. Will pulled up under its shade and they watched him for a moment. He flapped his wings at Teddy in frustration.

  ‘I think he’s worried you’ve forgotten him,’ Will said.

  ‘I’m trying to,’ she grumbled. ‘I just want him to get on with it. I don’t understand why he just doesn’t bloody go!’

  Will watched the bird carefully. ‘I think this place can get under your feathers if you let it,’ he said. She tooted the horn at Barnaby who shrieked back. ‘Maybe he’s made you a nice nest somewhere?’ he suggested.

  ‘Give it a rest,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Maybe I should shoot at him.’

  ‘Bit desperate, don’t you think?’

  Teddy shrugged.

  It was a golden afternoon. The light was falling across the crops, making them glow, and the bright blue sky was pressing down on the emerald horizon.

  In the silence that followed the wind buffeted against the windscreen and the windows of the ute, and the Carnaby cockatoo swept down and perched on the bull bar, glaring in at them accusingly.

  ‘You know why he won’t leave, don’t you?’

  ‘He’s dumb?’

  ‘Well, yeah, and because you’re here. He can’t go anywhere because he wants you. I think you’re his safety net.’

  ‘Well, he should get over it,’ she said. Will reached out for her hand, but she moved away.

  She was exhausted by the rehearsal, and terrified of having to walk in Deirdre’s dress. She’d brought it home to practise, but if she was honest with herself, it wasn’t likely she’d even look at it. The parade was the following day, and Teddy was filled with dread.

  Will didn’t speak, and she resisted the urge to cover over the silence until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she announced, and climbed out of the ute, leaving him to wonder what the hell he was still doing there himself.

  It was raining. Will had been sitting on the verandah of the shearers quarters watching the hole form deep puddles and observing the clods of freshly dug earth collapse under the weight of water and flop onto the ground.

  Teddy stared out the window at him for a moment then stared at the clock again. It was ten o’clock. Four hours until she needed to have her hair done and be presentable for the parade. She walked back to her room and fell face first onto the bed. Rolled over and observed the ceiling.

  She wondered if she was sick. She certainly felt sick; her pulse was racing and she was sweating. Maybe she should have a shower to try to calm down. She was probably just panicking. Lara, Sarah, Audrey, Deirdre, Margaret, Kath, Trish, Cate . . . she listed the names of the women who would be at the parade, to convince herself she knew most of them. That she was safe.

  Her heart lurched, sick, in her chest and her head started to spin. She focussed on the ceiling while she waited for the spinning to stop. Her blood felt heavy in her veins even though her heart pounded and thrashed in her chest.

  ‘Stop it,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Stop it, Teddy.’

  Her breath was coming too fast. She thought again about having a shower and decided she wouldn’t make it. Her mind was whirling. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave the house, she couldn’t leave the farm. She was mortified. Everyone would know. The shame of it flooded through her. She rolled over and tried to sleep and when she looked up at the clock again she saw it was nearly two o’clock and she hadn’t done a thing. There was a knock at the door. Deirdre was there to see if she was ready. She rolled out of bed and tiptoed guiltily up the hallway. The knock came again and she realised it wasn’t Deirdre’s knock, it was Will’s. She backed into the bathroom and hoped he hadn’t noticed her footsteps.

  ‘Teddy? Open the door. It’s me.’ She stood staring at the dark wood, wishing he’d go away. ‘I know you’re in there – your car’s outside. Open the door. It’s two.’ She glanced at her watch.

  ‘Go away,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ from outside the front door.

  ‘Go away.’ Louder this time. ‘Leave me alone.’ The door started to open. ‘Go away!’ she yelled, but it obviously wasn’t working because Will came inside looking worried. His face changed when he saw her.

  ‘You’re not even ready,’ he said. ‘Lara wanted you to get there with your hair up.’ She
went to the lounge room and lay down on the couch.

  ‘Can’t go,’ she mumbled into the cushions. ‘I’m sick.’

  ‘You’re freaked out,’ he told her, ‘but you’re not sick.’

  ‘Just go away, Will.’ Her voice was tired and heavy with tears. He perched on the edge of the couch. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I know you don’t understand and you think I should just get up and go and do this dumb thing. But Will – I can’t.’ Her breath caught in her throat, choking her. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Is it the people? The number of people? The dress?’

  ‘Everything.’

  She squashed her face further into the cushion and sobbed, and then she felt his warm hand on her back. It was gentle but assured. His touch knew her and she held her breath for a long moment while she got used to it. The tension in her back softened under the weight of his caress.

  ‘Breathe out,’ he whispered. She opened her mouth and slowly blew her breath away, then gulped in more. ‘Breathe out,’ he whispered again. She pushed the air back out of her lungs. ‘Now, breathe in. Slowly.’ She did. ‘Slower.’ She drew her next breath slowly into her lungs, concentrating on the warm heavy feel of his hand. He began to stroke her back. ‘Out again,’ he said, and she let the tight air fall out of her lungs. They sat in silence while she breathed. Eventually she realised Deirdre had entered the lounge and was standing in the doorway. Will didn’t move away.

  ‘So,’ Deirdre said. ‘You’ve upset my girl.’

  ‘No I haven’t.’

  ‘She’s worried because she doesn’t want to do the parade. And you made her.’

  Teddy wanted to die. Once she would have wanted to impress Will, to have made it through the couple of weeks he was there looking totally normal, and now he was discussing her with her grandmother like she was an invalid. She cringed and felt herself dissolving into tears again.

  ‘Teddy can still do it,’ Will said simply. ‘She can still get up, put her hair up and get into town. She’s so beautiful no one will notice she hasn’t done her makeup.’