by Annie Seaton
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Were you taking a nap?’
‘No.’ A dismissive wave as she crossed to the sink and filled the kettle. ‘I was having a lazy day. Reading in bed.’
All was quiet apart from the water spitting from the old tap over the sink. The kitchen was the same as it had ever been; if anything it was in an even worse state of repair. Paint hung from the ceiling in loose peels, and there were a couple of large brown stains that indicated a leaking roof. Not what you want in the wet season in the Territory.
The familiar smells of her mother’s cooking were long gone and a mouldy damp smell pervaded the air. No sweet aroma of mango chutney lingered, although there were still a few bright yellow stains on the old combustion stove and down the wall where the pots had once boiled over during her childhood. No matter how much Mum had scrubbed, the stains remained.
Susan watched as Ellie’s gaze moved around the room before she gestured for her to sit at the table. ‘I know. The house is in poor condition. My husband has promised to get it seen to.’ But Ellie sensed a lack of conviction in her voice.
Why on earth are they living in this dump? Because that’s what it was now. Neglected and rundown. Kane had said they had lived in Darwin before and suddenly a memory pierced Ellie like a sharp needle prick.
‘You’re the Susan that my mother knew in Darwin. She used to visit you at the beach . . . at Cullen Bay?’
‘Yes, that’s right. We met at the CWA national conference the year it was held in Darwin. Your mother’s mango chutney was famous. She scooped all the prizes at the show that year.’
‘I remember now.’ That school holiday they’d left Dad at the farm and had a girls’ week away; she’d forgotten all about it. Typical – the good memories disappeared and the bad ones stayed to haunt your dreams. ‘We stayed at a caravan park near the showground and when Mum went to visit you, she dropped the three of us at a big shopping centre. Em, Dru and I shopped all day.’
They’d bought make-up and magazines and had lunch at the food court and felt very grown up. She smiled; that was her first taste of a cappuccino and her sisters had laughed as she’d spat the bitter flavoured milk into a tissue after ordering and trying to look mature.
‘How is your mother?’ Ellie looked up at the woman sitting across the table and the sadness on her face surprised her. ‘I’ve written to her a few times over the years but I didn’t know if she was still living around here. She was a good friend to me when I used to come out here and visit Panos, but we lost touch when Peter . . . when your dad . . .’
Ellie’s pleasant memories evaporated like the steam that began to puff from the kettle on the old wood stove. Leaning back into the chair, she held the other woman’s intent gaze. ‘She’s doing okay. She’s moved away.’ It was all she could manage. After all, this woman offering her tea and kind words was the wife of the man who Mum blamed for Dad’s death. Of course she wasn’t going to send a chatty letter back.
Dear Susan, how are you? How’s your husband? I don’t have one anymore.
The kettle let out a piercing whistle and Susan pushed herself up slowly from the table. As she stood, her dressing gown gaped open at the front and Ellie caught a glimpse of long, stick-like legs beneath the edge of the knee-length nightie.
‘Tea?’ Susan pulled her gown together and retied the belt.
Ellie nodded. All she wanted to do was get out of here, but Susan’s loneliness was palpable and she didn’t want to seem ill-mannered. As the older woman bustled about lifting down a tea caddy and opening the fridge, Ellie’s gaze settled on the small white boxes in the middle of the kitchen table. Medication – six boxes of varying size. She tipped her head to the side, knowing it was rude, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Susan Sordina’ was typed on each label.
She started as Susan placed two cups on the table in front of her. ‘Would you like a biscuit? I’m sorry I don’t have any home baking to offer you.’
Ellie waved her hand. ‘That’s fine. A cup of tea is plenty.’
Much more than she’d intended when she’d knocked at the door. All she wanted to do was get out of this house with its dead smells, stained walls and cloying memories. Susan gestured to the boxes on the table. ‘They make up most of my diet these days. I’ve not been well, and I haven’t had a chance to bake. Not even a CWA scone in the freezer.’ She laughed but she caught her breath and for a moment Ellie thought the woman was going to cry, but she put her hand to her mouth and coughed. ‘My husband works in Darwin, so I’m here by myself through the week. It’s lovely having Kane visit, though. He came on Saturday and Sunday but he was busy this afternoon, so it’s nice to have an unexpected visitor.’ Her breath was short and choppy.
‘I’ll call in again next time I go to Darwin.’ The words were out before Ellie could think. Of course, if Kane was visiting there was no need to offer, but she felt sad to see this woman looking so lost and lonely. Her smile was sweet and again, Ellie saw a flash of Kane in Susan’s deep hazel eyes.
Susan’s hand shook as she lifted her cup to her mouth. ‘So Ellie, Kane tells me you’re a helicopter pilot as well. What a lovely coincidence that the two of you should end up working together.’
Ellie lifted her cup and sipped the hot tea. Guilt trickled through her as Susan’s face came alight. Why guilt would hit her, she didn’t know. She didn’t have anything to hide.
‘What brings you back to the old place?’
‘I saw Kane’s Jeep here the other day when I was driving back from Darwin. He told me you lived here.’
‘So you decided to call in? That was so sweet of you. I’m so pleased there is a – a sort of – connection between us. Kane needs friends.’ Susan looked over Ellie’s head to the windows and was quiet for a moment. When she turned back she reached over and took her hand. Her grip was tight and her fingers were like ice. Ellie looked down at the thin hand gripping her fingers. Susan’s skin had a slight yellowish tinge and the veins stood out on the back of her hand.
‘We’re a fine pair. He’s not been well either.’ She gave a little laugh but there was no mirth in it. She sounded almost embarrassed that perhaps she was sharing something she shouldn’t.
‘I don’t know Kane very well. We just work together.’
Except that we just had sex last night.
‘No, you wouldn’t. He is a very private man.’ Susan bit her lip and stared at Ellie. The look on her face indicated she was about to share something. ‘Did he tell you what happened in Afghanistan?’
‘Afghanistan? No.’
‘He’s getting better, and he is a strong man like his father was. He’s healing, I know he is.’ She looked away and stared at the wall, but kept a tight grip on Ellie’s hand. ‘I almost lost him, you know. I’ll never forget the night our phone rang and it was his commander, telling me his helicopter had been shot down. I thought he was dead.’
Ellie stared at Susan as Kane’s refusal to fly began to make sense. She should have guessed it was something like that.
‘He’s so worried about my health, but he won’t look after himself. And he’s a man. He refuses to accept that the death of his crew has damaged him.’
Death of his crew? A surge of sympathy rushed through Ellie and she blinked away the moisture that suddenly threatened her eyes.
‘He received a commendation, you know, before he was medically discharged. He carried one of his crew through hostile territory, even with a shattered hip.’ She lifted her face to Ellie’s. ‘She was dead before the helicopter hit the ground, but he still carried her out across the sand dunes.’
Oh fuck. No wonder he didn’t want to fly.
‘I didn’t know any of that.’ Ellie spoke slowly. ‘But it explains his limp.’
‘So.’ Susan sat back. ‘Knowing that he works with you has eased my mind. You’ll make a lovely friend for him, my dear.’ Susan’s cup landed in its saucer with a gentle tinkle.
A lovely friend. Just the sort of thing her mother would once have said, bef
ore the world became too difficult for her.
‘I’ll . . . I’ll look out for him.’ Ellie stood and carried both of their cups over to the old sink. She rinsed them and turned back to Susan.
‘I noticed the orchard has been let go. I wondered if your husband was going to revive it.’ She wasn’t going to tell her she’d spoken to Panos already.
‘No.’ Susan shook her head. ‘This is just somewhere for us to live for a while. Or it was supposed to be us. I’m afraid Panos doesn’t cope well with illness.’
Ellie’s heart went out to her. ‘Would you mind if I had a look around while I’m here? It’s been a long time since I’ve been back.’ She fiddled with the car keys in her pocket, feeling guilty for not being quite truthful. Well, it was the truth in a way.
‘Not at all.’ Susan stood and supported herself on the back of the chair. She looked so ill that Ellie wondered if she should really be here alone. ‘Feel free to have a look around. My husband is having a new dam built down the back, so you might find some workers down there. There’s been utes back and forth all morning. Tell them I said it was okay for you to go down there.’ Susan’s brow wrinkled and her lips pursed as she looked around the kitchen. ‘It would have been nicer to have a new kitchen instead of a new dam, but I suppose he thought there was no point.’ Her tone was resigned.
‘No point?’ Ellie reached out and put her hand over Susan’s on the back of the chair.
‘I’m dying, Ellie.’ Even though her voice was sad, there was a sense of stoic acceptance there. Ellie’s eyes filled with tears and an ache closed her throat at the next words to come from Susan’s mouth. ‘I haven’t told Kane what a short time I have left. He’s already been through so much. Please don’t tell him.’
Ellie caught her breath and this time the tears spilled over onto her cheek. ‘Should you be here alone?’
‘It’s the way things are.’ Susan reached over and wiped away the tear on Ellie’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. ‘I will tell him. But it really eases my mind to know that he will have a friend when my time comes. You’re a sweet girl, Ellie. You remind me very much of your mother.’
Ellie shoved the sealed cardboard carton into the boot of her car. Susan had taken her around to the laundry at the back of the house and pointed to a shelf above the double concrete tub.
‘This box was in the shed when we moved in. It had been shoved out there with some mango cartons, but it has your father’s name on the outside. They must have missed it when you moved. That’s one of the reasons I wrote to your mother.’ Susan covered her mouth and coughed again; a nasty rattling cough.
Ellie waited until she had caught her breath.
‘Can you take it to her? I don’t know what’s inside.’ Her breathing rasped around the words.
Ellie braced one hand on the old concrete tub as she reached up and tipped the edge of the small box, testing the weight. She levered the edge and balanced it on her palm until it slid off the shelf and she took a step back as she caught it. Dad’s loopy writing with the distinctive curl on the Ps stared back at her. Peter Porter. A childish giggle threatened. In their household the old nursery rhyme had always been ‘Peter Porter picked a peck of pickled peppers’. Ellie remembered how indignant Dru had been when she’d come home from school one afternoon and told Dad he had the rhyme wrong. He’d smiled his gentle smile and ruffled her hair.
‘Thank you.’ Ellie said to Susan. ‘I’ll tell Mum about it when I speak to her.’
But not before I look inside.
Susan had walked her back around to the front of the house and watched as she put the box in the boot. She stood there as Ellie opened her car door. ‘It was so sweet of you to call in. If you are going past again, I’d love to see you.’ She straightened, gripping the edges of her dressing gown together with her claw-like hands. ‘I know. Next time Kane comes over, perhaps you could come for a drive with him and I’ll cook dinner for both of you.’ Her face brightened as though the thought of having something purposeful to do pleased her.
The ache took a tighter hold on Ellie’s throat and she nodded. ‘I will.’
I haven’t told Kane what a short time I have left. He’s already been through so much. The love in Susan’s voice tore at Ellie’s composure. Life was bloody cruel.
The track to the back boundary had been recently graded. Ellie glanced to the side as she drove the three miles from the house through the orchard to the corner where the property was edged by the South Alligator River. The three small dams were full from the wet season just gone, and the brown water was dotted with an abundance of wild birds and whistling ducks. The irrigation pumps next to the dams were rusted, and the dead mango trees bore testament to the fact that the dams were no longer used for irrigation. Everything was dead and brown, including the thick tussock grass in the paddocks which was in need of a decent slash or burn – a cleaning of country. Ellie wished she could hop on a tractor and slash it herself, but those days were gone.
Her small sedan crested the hill that overlooked the final dam that was fed by the river. She drew in a gasp and hit the brakes. Pulling across to the side of the track, she opened the door slowly and put her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the late afternoon sun. The dam was bone dry. Huge cracks splintered the mud at its base. Old plastic containers littered the flat baked surface, exposed by the drying up of the water.
‘What the – ?’ A large motor started with a roar and Ellie strode across the road into the orchard then climbed the next hill, taking care to stay behind the stand of scrubby trees that delineated the back of the orchard from the river flats on the eastern boundary.
There was no sign of the huge trucks from last week, but three white utilities were parked at the bottom of the hill. A three-metre high wire fence enclosed a large square from the base of the hill to the river and the gates were closed, the padlock big enough for Ellie to see it from where she stood. It was the red scarred earth she’d seen from above, but it looked much wider from the ground.
‘New dam, my arse,’ she muttered. Something serious was going on here, and it had nothing to do with mango farming or a new fence. The machine over at the edge of the river backed up with another roar of its engine and a puff of smoke was followed by the squealing of steel on steel. Along the length of the back of the fence was a square pit lined with black plastic. It was half-full of discoloured water. The pipes she had seen from the air towered to the height of a house roof. Ellie took a step forward and peered through the dust that rose and obscured her vision. She frowned and wrinkled her nose as a strange odour filled her nostrils – a mix of gasoline and kerosene.
‘Hey! Stop right there!’
Ellie jumped and put her hand to her chest. Her heartbeat ramped up and she swallowed down the fear that burned in her throat. A huge guy with tattoos circling his neck was marching across the paddock towards her. His eyes were too small for the face that was set in a scowl. The sun glinted off his shaved head and the earrings in his right ear flashed as he closed the distance between them. He would have looked more at home on a motorbike than on any of the earthmoving machinery down the hill.
She thought quickly. ‘Oh, hello. Maybe you can help me?’ She let out a nervous giggle, but the nerves were for real. The pungent smell of sweat and body odour filled her nostrils as he came to a stop only inches from her side. He grabbed her arm and held it tightly as she tried to twist out of his grip.
‘Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?’ His voice was deep and tinged with an Eastern European accent.
‘I’m lost.’ She put on a timid voice. ‘I’m looking for the jumping crocodile show but I must have missed the turn. There was no one at the house down the road, and I saw the smoke down here.’
He turned her around and let go of her arm, only to push his hand into the small of her back. ‘This is private property.’
‘There’s no need to be like that. I’m only looking for the crocodile park.’ She cleared her throat and met his g
aze.
‘You’re a tourist, huh?’
His gaze lowered and stared at her chest. Too late she realised she was in her work clothes and her khaki shirt was emblazoned with the Makowa Lodge logo.
‘I’m new here and I wanted to see the jumping crocodile show.’ She stuck to her story but in truth it was the last thing she wanted to see. Many locals wanted the jumping crocodile show banned and she agreed with them. A man had been killed last dry season when a four-metre crocodile had jumped up and snatched him from his tinnie.
‘Like I said, get in your car and piss off.’
Ellie’s temper fired. ‘There’s no need to be like that. What’s going on down here, anyway?’
She flinched as his large sweaty hand grabbed hers again and he dragged her down the hill to her car. A white ute was parked beside it; she hadn’t heard it over the noise of the machinery she’d been watching.
‘Get in your car and leave or you’ll be charged with trespassing.’ He shoved her roughly towards the car.
Her hands shook as she shoved the key into the ignition and started the car. With a spray of gravel to rival that of Kane’s exit last week, the wheels spun as she turned the car towards the highway.
Before she reached the top of the hill she glanced back. The man held a phone to his ear.
Chapter 13
Monday
Arnhem Highway
Ellie’s lips trembled as her hands gripped the steering wheel. What she had seen beside the South Alligator River confirmed her worst fears. The ground was ripped to pieces; the soft red soil now slashed into huge channels by the machinery parked inside that wire-fenced compound. And that tattooed guy had terrified her. What the hell were they doing down there that needed a thug to guard it? But she knew. She’d read enough of Mum’s files and seen enough photographs to know that hydraulic fracking was underway.