She giggled to herself on the dark road. Viv would have laughed at her. Why do all your stories sound like you’re some fancy actress from the pictures? she’d ask. Deirdre didn’t really know; she just knew that the voice of that woman, whoever she was, was her.
A wind had gathered and it was pushing clouds overhead past the shearing shed and across the horizon by the time Teddy got home. Rain was coming. She turned her face to the cool air to breathe it in, then grabbed the empty cake tins from the passenger seat and dashed into her gloomy house. She flicked on the lights and gazed about the empty rooms. She could feel the wind pressing against the walls of the house, squeezing the grey boards of the verandah and rattling at the windows.
She glanced across the yard, past the ruins of the buried house to the shearers quarters. Will was already back from dropping the sound equipment in Wickepin. She put the kettle on. Tea. The answer.
She wondered how many times before she’d sat in the shed with Cow while the rain visited from Narrogin or Albany. Sometimes it thrashed against the walls in a fury. Sometimes it arrived apologetically, soft and scant, not enough for the crops crying out to be saved, and Deirdre would look at the sky in disgust. But now she could hear it coming through the stand of salmon gums next to the dam, and crossing the yard. She heard it fall noisily on the tin roof of the workshop, the metal tray of the ute, the empty water tank next to the junk pile, the shearing shed roof and finally onto the roof of her house.
She knew the sound of Windstorm rain as well as she knew her own voice, as well as she knew how pleased Deirdre would be that it had come. She watched the kettle steaming and she knew the exact colour of the cloud that delivered this type of rain and could tell from the sound on the roof the exact size of the rain drop.
Then without really knowing why, she left the kitchen and walked out onto the verandah. The rain was pounding against the tin roof, clattering and gurgling down the drainpipes. The scent was fresh and heavy, and she welcomed it into her lungs – cold, hard air – deeply awake.
Then she was running. She dashed through it, across the yard, leaping over the new puddles, drenched in the cold rain from the south. She cleared the small steps onto Will’s verandah in one bound and knocked. Tap tap tap.
When he opened the door she threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. Will staggered but for only a moment before he kissed her back, his warm mouth on hers, his hands grasping her auburn hair and then stroking her firmly down to her waist, pulling her to him. And so they fell into his little kitchen. Teddy shivered slightly in the air that blew against her wet flannel shirt, which clung to her, but pushed against his hard body again, taking his face in her hands and pressing at his lips.
‘Hey, wait,’ he whispered. ‘We can’t just —’ She reached down and began to untuck his shirt from his jeans so she could reach under and feel his warm skin. His eyes widened. ‘Hey, stop! For a second!’ He pulled her close and nuzzled her hair. ‘What is this?’
‘You know what this is.’
‘Teddy, you went through a terrible thing . . .’ He kissed her damp hair and placed his forehead on hers so that he was looking directly into her face. He was breathing hard. ‘I can’t know what it did to you, really, but I – you know – are you sure?’ Teddy took his face in her hands, and ran her soft mouth across his, lingering over his cheeks, breathing him in lightly, then moving her hands gently through his tangled hair. She pressed her body against his, and could feel his heart pounding and his warm hands firmly on her back.
‘Today is different. For the first time in ages,’ she told him. His eyes were a darker blue than she had ever seen them, and they burned into her. ‘Take my shirt off,’ she whispered. His hands moved slowly to her top button, watching her face with rapt attention, and his fingers trembled slightly as they worked the buttons one by one. The shirt flopped heavily to the floor. ‘Jeans,’ she whispered. His large warm hands returned to their task and worked her damp jeans from her hips. She stepped out of them and kissed him, thrilled at her freedom, and he pulled her close, breathing her in.
When she reached for him and removed his shirt, his muscled chest was there and she felt powerful and strong. Perhaps it was the freedom of the chilled air against her skin, or the look on Will’s face when he took her in, or the knowledge that she was safe, that it was her way, that it was their way.
‘Let’s go,’ she said as she led him down the dark hallway to his bedroom where his bedclothes already lay scattered, and she removed every stitch of clothing she wore.
Teddy Broderick wasn’t a brave person. She woke every day, knowing she was a good person, but not brave or strong. But now she knew she had written a tiny new chapter into her story in which she had been brave, one where she had reached for the thing that she wanted and had taken it. She let her body range over his in the darkness, stroking his smooth skin and stretching out under his touch, his mouth. It was only going to be a short chapter, she told herself, and as she kissed him and took him with her, she thought it the bravest thing she had ever done.
They slept. It was late at night when she was woken by something in the kitchen. Someone was moving about. She sat up in bed. There was the sound of a chair scraping and creaking and of cupboards being opened and shut. She glanced around in the darkness to find Will had gone. She rolled out of bed. It was freezing in the corridor and it turned out to be even colder in the kitchen when she stepped her bare feet onto the lino. A chilled breeze brushed against her bare legs.
‘Will! What are you doing up?’
‘Uh, can I talk to you for a sec?’ He glanced at her nervously. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he added, and started to get down some mugs. Teddy pulled a throw rug off the couch and settled it around her shoulders. There was no point freezing to death.
‘Will. It must be past two in the morning. Can this wait? I want to go back to bed.’ She leaned on the kitchen bench.
‘No! It won’t take a sec.’ He rubbed his head. ‘I just need to say something.’ He twirled one of the mugs absent-mindedly in his hands. Then he put it down next to the other and stared at them blankly, his fingers dancing along the kitchen bench. Finally Teddy spoke.
‘It’s okay, Will,’ she told him. ‘I can guess.’ He looked relieved, his body sagged.
‘Yeah?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘You’re not really an archaeologist, are you?’ He laughed.
‘You are such a pain in the arse. No, that’s not it!’ He leaned on the kitchen table with his head down as if considering something.
‘You’re the one who got me out of bed, with all your crashing about.’ He came and crouched in front of her and looked up at her.
‘Teddy.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s like . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s like this.’ He stood again and went briefly into the lounge room, thought better of it and returned to the kitchen.
‘Will, I’m cold and tired. Tell me what it’s like.’
‘Okay,’ he said, but he was talking to himself. Teddy yawned. ‘Okay, Teddy.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m leaving soon.’
‘Yes.’
He put his hands on his hips and faced her.
‘You should come, too.’
‘What?’
He took his hands off his hips, then replaced them again. ‘Teddy, I want you to come with me.’ His face was serious, and now that he’d spoken his nervousness seemed to have dissipated. She felt a chill of excitement rush through her, or was it fear?
‘No.’
He came to her and put his arms on her shoulders. ‘At least think about it.’
‘No.’
‘Hey, if you’re going to knock me back I think you probably owe me more than one word.’ Her eyes were filling with tears. ‘Teddy, just think about it. You can come with me and have a look at the world. See where all the stories come from. You can help discover some of the secrets people
have left behind, you can be the first person to touch their lives after a thousand years.’
She stood up and went to stand by the window. The rain had passed, but another shower was coming through the dark night.
She was afraid. Of leaving. Of staying. Of betraying her grandmother.
‘What is this?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Why do you want me to come with you?’
Will leaned down to her and held her gaze. ‘You know why,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, Teddy.’
Her heart leapt. Go! it screamed. Go! He wanted her. Despite everything, Will wanted her. She was awkward and weird, she told stories to herself in the dark about monsters and princesses and countries she’d never see. And yet, here he was, offering her the world. The sweetness stung her eyes and she blinked it away, breathless, joyful, afraid.
She reached up for him and kissed him, her body pressed against his. She felt him sigh. ‘Will, I can’t leave here,’ she said, ‘I have to look after Grandma . . .’ Will snorted.
‘She seems pretty tough to me.’
‘She’s not as tough as you think, and she’s been let down all her life. I’m not going to let her down too.’
He gently took her face in his hands. ‘Teddy, I want you to know you’ll be safe, that the world isn’t a bad place and nothing is going to happen to you.’
‘You can’t guarantee that,’ she said. ‘How do you know we’d even be happy together?’
Will hugged her close. ‘I just know,’ he said.
That caught her. She looked up and saw him watching her with his beautiful blue eyes. She was going to hurt him.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she whispered.
‘Come with me,’ he whispered back, and the tiny part of her heart that she had kept silent for so long yearned to do just that. A thin, painful squeeze in her chest that told her she would die if she let him leave without her.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she whispered again, but she was talking to herself.
‘Teddy,’ he said. ‘I love you.’ He kissed her mouth again. ‘Be brave. Come with me.’
There was a wind outside the window and it was impatient with her, blustering at the verandah. It gusted under the doorway. She heard the door of the cowshed clanging against the gate. Teddy knew what she had to do.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
He gave a shout of delight and kissed her. She held him close and stroked his soft dark hair and then she let her hands take in his body for the last time. Goodbye, her heart whispered as she moved her fingers over his hot skin. She drank him in – the feel of him, his touch, his scent. She took him back to bed and claimed him one last time, with the wind whistling around the shearers quarters, trying to get in.
In the morning she climbed out of bed and sat in the bedside chair to watch him, as if the memory of him lying there would keep her company during the quiet moments of milking Cow or spraying weeds. He rolled over towards her side of the bed a couple of times and murmured something in a low voice. A smile crept across his face. His bicep moved as he lifted his arm. His hair was dark and messy. The hair at the centre of his chest was almost in the shape of a vase. His eyelashes were long. His mouth was kind. His feet were big and one was sticking out from under her floral bedspread. It hurt her to see him lying there in the minutes before he found out she wasn’t the woman he wanted her to be.
She wasn’t going to leave. He rolled over, felt for her with his hand. He looked groggily around.
‘Have you been milking?’ he asked. She nodded, but it wasn’t true. ‘Come back here,’ he murmured. ‘I miss you.’ She shook her head. ‘Something wrong?’ he asked, warily.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ She took a breath. ‘But I’m not going with you.’
He didn’t speak. It was as if he was pretending to them both that she had never said the words, that she could still take them back. His face was so still it scared her and she didn’t know why. He couldn’t hurt her – she was doing that for herself.
‘Bullshit.’
‘I’m staying here. I have responsibilities here.’
‘Coward.’ He sat up and swung his feet across the bed to the floor. ‘Teddy. Do it now or you won’t do it at all. You’ll die here without ever seeing the world. You’ll live your whole life for someone else and when she’s gone, you’ll be leftovers.’ He leaned forward and took her hands in his. ‘Everyone else is choosing their lives right now. You’re stuck.’ He closed the distance and placed his cheek on hers. His was dry, though, and hers was wet with tears. ‘Don’t let what happened to you own you for the rest of your life. Come with me, leave the nest now and fly, or your fear will cripple you.’
‘It’s not fear.’
‘Liar.’
‘Not just fear. I owe Deirdre. I owe my family. I owe this place. I want to know that I did the right thing by her. Grandma has looked after her father, her husband and her son, and they’ve all gone. Hamish is busy. He’s a great guy, but he doesn’t know her stories, or her songs. I can’t leave her, Will.’
‘What about yourself?’ he asked. ‘What about me?’
She shrugged because she couldn’t speak. Her whole body was cold, so cold it was like her bones were shaking inside her.
‘Teddy. Please come with me.’
Silence.
‘Please.’
‘No.’
‘What was that last night? That was goodbye?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Jesus!’ He stood up and left her there, swearing copiously all the way down the hall, slamming the door on the way out. She sat in shock for a long time, listening to him swearing and kicking things outside at the dig, her heart pounding and her face flushed in shame at having hurt him and herself so much. He didn’t understand her, she decided. He lived a life without boundaries, in which he floated across borders and dipped into countries like they were a rich chocolate assortment.
He didn’t understand that she needed to feel the safety of the farm. Deirdre’s grumbling voice was a comfort to her and the sound of the magpies and the bleating of the new season lambs told her she was okay. She had to repay her grandmother, to be the one person who stayed and showed her that she was enough – that Deirdre Broderick wasn’t going to be abandoned again. Then came the sound of the rain again, pattering against the grey windows.
A stiff breeze was sailing over the hill from Windstorm and pushing against Deirdre as she paced up and down to fend off the cold. The world was darkest grey. She stared back at the driveway to her unlit house where her sister and father lay sleeping. She wondered how they would find out she was gone, whether Vivian would tell him at all, and if their father could even tell one of them from the other any more. It was the thought of leaving Vivian that tortured her. Vivian was her sister and the shame they shared was the same. She would be back for Vivian. She would never let her down. Silently, another hour passed.
Deirdre peered into the black night looking for clues. Where could he be? Had there been an accident? She stared into the deep horizon as if it would help her see him coming through the darkness. Her heart was slowing down. Not long ago it had rushed excitedly in her chest, but now it was dragging cold blood through her veins because it knew.
He wasn’t coming. She turned once more to look up the road towards town. Nothing. Deirdre sat against a fencepost on the roadside, praying that he would come to her. When the tears fell to her cheeks she dashed them away in case his lights showed at the crest of the hill and he mistook her sadness for mistrust.
Another hour. I’ll just wait another hour and Harry will come for me. Another hour came. And another, until the fresh light of a new day glowed on the horizon, and at that she turned for home once more.
When Teddy made it outside of the shearers quarters to sneak back home, Will was shouting at Deirdre’s house. ‘You selfish old crone!’ he yelled. ‘You’re wrecking her life, you know that?’ He kicked her car door because it was
unlucky enough to have been parked next to his own. ‘You think you’re helping her? You’re not!’
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Deirdre demanded. She was coming out of the house and into the yard, pulling her grey cardigan closer to her bosom. ‘You need to pull your head in and show some respect.’
‘And you need to get out of your granddaughter’s life! You think you can protect her from all the bad shit in the world!? You can’t!’ He had collected his things from the shearers quarters into a pile and he was chucking them in his car. Teddy saw his swag go in, and his canvas bag. ‘She’s stuck here and you won’t even give her permission to go.’
‘I give her permission all right,’ Deirdre said.
‘Then give her a bloody push. She’s staying here for you! And because she’s too scared to bloody leave!’
‘Teddy knows her own mind, William. She was terribly hurt by what happened to her and it’s my job to protect her. I can keep her safe here on the farm. You’ve seen how upset she gets.’
Will laughed bitterly. ‘Yes she does,’ he said. ‘But avoiding life isn’t going to help her.’
Deirdre appeared to notice he was packing. ‘You’re off?’ she asked, affronted. Apparently she was more concerned about their deal than any personal relationship between Teddy and him.
‘Yep, can’t be gone soon enough.’
‘So that’s what you do when things don’t go your way, is it?’
‘Yep, that’s what I do, because I’m not hanging around where I’m not wanted. Haven’t you people heard of getting back on the horse? Or does it just suit you to keep her here, without ever risking it again, in case something bad happens? That’s no way to live, Deirdre, and you’re bloody old enough to know it. I’m not staying here another day to watch this bullshit.’ He threw a couple of books into the passenger’s seat. ‘You stay here and make sure your granddaughter doesn’t forget to milk the fucking cow.’
The Cowgirl Page 24