The Saddler Boys

by Fiona Palmer

  ‘What? Oh, yeah, he’s fine. He loves it on the back. You should try it some time. Lots of fun having the wind in your hair. Best thing about being a kid was riding on the back of the ute.’ Drew checked on his son again and grinned. ‘So how is Lake Biddy treating you? How are you finding it so far from the city?’

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely.’ She must have seen his amused expression. ‘No, actually, I’m serious. I’m enjoying that aspect of it. No freeways, no lights —’

  ‘No restaurants, no shops, no choice of groceries,’ added Drew.

  Nat smiled. ‘Yeah, but you guys survive. It won’t kill me.’

  Strands of her hair floated around her face like fine threads of silk. He should have wound up his window but he liked seeing this natural, unkempt look. ‘Love your attitude. You’ll be winning over the locals soon enough, just like you have with Billy. He thinks you hung the moon.’

  ‘He’s a sweet kid.’

  ‘I, um, hope you can understand how I reacted when he was sick.’ Drew knew he had to get this off his chest before he could relax. ‘He’s my world and I tend to forget what goes on outside of that. Plus, having a stranger in my house freaked me out a bit. So, I’m really sorry for my behaviour.’ Drew glanced across, catching her eyes and holding them for a moment. ‘You didn’t deserve to be treated that way when you were taking such good care of Billy. I really am sorry and totally grateful.’

  ‘Thanks, Drew.’

  Her voice was light and sweet, just like her scent. Everything about her was so feminine.

  They reached the dam and Drew began to drive up the side of the white bank. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nat reach for something to hold. Billy whooped with joy as if he were on a rollercoaster.

  Drew stopped not far from the water’s edge, where the dam levelled out at the run-off entry point. ‘Let’s go catch our lunch.’ Jumping out, he reached for the big bucket while Billy carried the sorting tray.

  Nat followed them to the water. ‘I see why my shoes would be a problem.’

  Billy laughed, dropped the trays and reached for her hand. ‘I’ll help you. We can do the first one together.’

  Drew was half expecting Nat to decline but, like a child who was curious about how everything worked, she went along. Billy showed her how to pull on the rope, which was lying in the mud, and bring forth the net from the dam in a rush of water, covering their boots. Nat’s were encased in mud as she struggled with the heavy net.

  ‘Oh, there’s lots. What do we do with them?’

  She held the net away from herself awkwardly, but, to her credit, she didn’t drop it.

  ‘Here, I’ll show you,’ said Billy, taking it from her. He dumped the yabbies into the white sorting tray that Drew held over the large bucket. ‘See, now Dad will shake them through so we don’t eat any that are too small. We put them back in the dam along with any with eggs.’ Billy emptied out the tube with the dog kibbles in it and rolled up the rope while Drew threw the small ones back in.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Nat. She was shaking her foot, trying to dislodge the big pile of mud on the end of the boot.

  Drew glanced at Billy and they began to smile.

  ‘It’s all dirty,’ she added.

  Drew and Billy broke into laughter. She shot them a concerned look and they laughed even harder.

  Nat threw her hands on her hips. ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded, while fighting to keep a smile from her face.

  ‘Miss Wright,’ said Billy. ‘They’re boots. They’re meant to get dirty. That’s why we wear them.’ He giggled again.

  ‘You think that’s bad – wait till I show you the photos of Billy playing in the mud, or the time he helped me in the shed and covered himself in grease,’ said Drew.

  Nat raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. ‘I don’t think I ever got dirty as a kid. Maybe in the sandpit or from eating, but I never did get to play in mud.’

  ‘It’s a shame you’re wearing that top,’ said Drew just as he felt the first few drops of rain. He looked up. It was going to bucket down soon.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cos I’d have grabbed a handful of mud and covered you in it,’ he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Every kid should get dirty at some point. Quick, Billy, grab the other net, I think it’s about to pour.’

  Billy did as he was told while Nat held out her hands as the drops fell faster. ‘Should we run to the ute?’ she asked.

  ‘You can,’ said Drew. ‘But it’s only water and I want my lunch,’ he added teasingly.

  For a second she watched him sort yabbies while the rain got heavier. Then she tilted her head back and held her hands out again. ‘Yes, you’re right. It’s only water.’ Then she laughed and laughed.

  ‘Dad, is Miss Wright okay?’ whispered Billy. He stood by Drew with the next full yabby net, his face screwed up in concern.

  ‘Yeah, son. She’s fine.’

  Drew wondered what was going on inside her head. Something was making her feel happy and he didn’t think it was wearing his mum’s boots, or the rain . . . But it didn’t matter because the smile on his son’s face was worth it. It was nice to have something different to think about. Except he couldn’t help thinking just how much his mum would have loved meeting Natalie. She would have been someone to get to know and figure out. Alice always had to put her nose in other people’s business but she did it with love and she wanted to help. Drew realised it was the first time he’d thought of his mum without wanting to fall on the ground and cry. But the emptiness was still there, the ache. He was parentless and it hurt like hell.

  Chapter 11

  LARGE drops, cold and wet, fell with a splat on her face. One hit the corner of her lips and the sweet taste of rain ran into her mouth. It was a sublime feeling, standing in the open, new smells and sights bringing a sense of being alive and free. Had Nat ever really stopped to smell the roses, as the saying went, before she moved out to Lake Biddy? It sure felt like she’d done a lot of it since then. Maybe because she knew her time here was limited, so she was making the most of it.

  The rain was coming harder now. She felt the water run down her neck, and her top felt plastered to her shoulders. She glanced back at Drew, who was staring at her but not really seeing her. He wore a sad expression that instantly tugged at her heart. It was raw, open and honest. As if sensing her gaze, Drew blinked and went back to helping Billy sort out the yabbies.

  They were getting drenched. ‘Can I help?’ Squatting down, she watched them pick up yabbies. Big claws arched out, trying to find something to pinch. ‘On second thoughts, those claws look nasty.’

  ‘They do hurt,’ said Billy as he picked one up and checked for eggs. ‘But if you pick them up like this then they can’t get ya.’ He held up another one in his other hand and put them together so they could touch claws. ‘They like to fight.’

  ‘Once you get nipped you’re pretty good at not letting it happen again,’ said Drew with a smirk.

  ‘Yeah, I bet.’

  ‘We’re nearly done. Head back to the ute and we’ll be right behind you,’ he said with rain dripping from his hair and chin. His long, dark eyelashes held the drops momentarily before they slid off.

  Nat felt bad but did as she was told. By the time she got in and shook out her hair, Drew was climbing in beside her, Billy on his lap. Together they drove back to the farmhouse.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Drew when they finally stood under the protection of the verandah. ‘I hadn’t planned on a drenching to go with your meal.’

  Nat pulled her top away from her, where it had been suctioning onto her skin. The poor bloke was probably getting more than he bargained for. ‘It’s fine. Like you said, it’s just water.’

  ‘Billy, can you get the yabbies ready while I just duck inside?’

  Drew went inside without waiting for an answer from Billy, who carried on putting the yabbies into a wire basket.

  ‘Copper is ready, Dad. Can I put them in?’ he said as Drew came back out
.

  He was wearing a dry white T-shirt that was a little snug – not that it was a bad thing on Drew; it just made Nat more aware of his muscled physique. He was also carrying some clothes.

  ‘Let me do that, buddy, it’s really hot.’ He turned to Nat. ‘Here, in case you want to change into something dry. They were my mum’s. You can keep them.’

  Billy’s head tilted towards them with the mention of Alice. Nat reached for the clothes and held out a pair of black trackpants and a blue fleecy checked shirt.

  ‘Those are called trackpants. Really comfortable. And if you come back out here again this is what you can wear for farm work,’ said Drew with a half smile. ‘I could use a helper while I’m shearing.’

  Nat scoffed at his cheek but, biting her tongue, she went inside to change.

  In the laundry she tugged off her wet jeans and top. Her white silk and lace underwear weren’t too damp, luckily. With nothing else under the flannel shirt, she made sure to do up every button and then pulled on the pants. She had to admit they felt soft and comfortable, but she did feel very unglamorous.

  Outside, Drew was putting the basket of yabbies into an old-looking tub. Billy was watching more intently then he ever did at school. ‘What is that thing?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s an old copper boiler,’ Drew replied. ‘They used them back in the day for laundry. But they’re perfect for cooking big catches of yabbies. I sure don’t use it for washing. This girl can boil up in around twenty minutes. It’s an electric one, so you don’t have to light a fire underneath.’

  Drew finally ran his eyes over her outfit. He smiled and for the first time she noticed small dimples. Would they stand out more if he was clean-shaven?

  ‘Well?’

  ‘You look great. Now I don’t have to feel bad when you get the yabby guts and juices splashed all over you.’

  Natalie frowned. She didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Drew set up three chairs, handed her another beer, and brought out some bowls and newspaper, plus an old bucket. ‘Sorry you have to work for your lunch, but it’s all a part of the experience. It makes it taste even better, I promise.’

  Nat had always liked the idea of being self-sufficient. Her nan had a small vegie garden and pots full of herbs. She also had two chooks in a little pen in the back corner of her yard, and as a little girl Nat had loved collecting the eggs.

  Soon Drew was pulling out the wire basket and dumping the yabbies on the newspaper in the middle of their chairs. Then he showed her how to pull the tails away from the body and peel them. ‘Keep the big claws too, as the meat’s nice and sweet.’

  Nat reached for the red- and orange-tinged yabby. It was still hot from the water, but as Billy had already pulled apart about six, she thought she’d better get cracking. Digging her nails into the middle, she began to pull. She couldn’t help squinting and gritting her teeth.

  ‘You got it,’ said Drew. He reached over and showed her how to remove the shell.

  She got the hang of it and before long the pile of yabby meat was growing. Her fingers were sore from little cuts from the shell and the yabby juices were probably splattered all over her, but she was having fun. Billy was keeping them entertained with stories from the farm and some really bad jokes. At one point Drew asked him to recite his favourite poem and he did, not missing a beat.

  In an old rocking chair on verandah boards,

  He sits and reminisces,

  Of days gone by and the work he’s done,

  Of the wife he so dearly misses.

  His weather-beaten face proof of years in the sun,

  Eyesight that’s failing him fast,

  His tired old body can no longer work,

  As it did in the years gone past.

  Slippers replace the work boots he wore,

  His big hands are now pale and tender,

  Arms that once rippled with muscle,

  Are now pale, fragile and slender.

  Things were so different from when he’d first come,

  To the land as a strapping young lad,

  The clearing he’d done, the homestead he’d built,

  ’Twas a good life, the life that he’d had.

  Eighty years’ worth of memories to share,

  But nobody wanted to listen,

  As he thought of his wife and the children they’d raised,

  The tears on his cheek softly glistened.

  And now it was done, his dreams were all dreamt,

  The hardship and toil all past,

  As he closed his eyes for the very last time,

  The first shadows of evening were cast.

  Natalie clapped and shook her head in awe. ‘Billy, that was amazing.’

  His grin was wide. ‘Thanks. Nan said it’s about my pop.’

  ‘Billy, can you go inside and set up the table, please, buddy?’ asked Drew. ‘We’ll finish up and bring these in.’

  ‘Okay, Dad.’ Billy went and washed his hands in the water coming from the gutter. It was still raining but just lightly.

  ‘Mum taught him that,’ said Drew once Billy was inside. ‘She thought that giving him something to focus on, to remember and to recite, would help his learning, and that was their favourite poem. Mum liked to think that’s how my dad would have turned out if he was still alive.’

  ‘You don’t have either of your parents?’ Nat was shocked. Drew couldn’t be that old.

  ‘No. My father died when I was eighteen. I was away at Muresk, studying Ag Science when he crashed his car after footy one night. So I came home to run the farm with mum. That was eight years ago now.’

  Nat sat there, watching him and trying to imagine what that must have been like. She had both her parents, even though some days they drove her nuts. Maybe she should go home next weekend and see them. ‘So, Billy . . .?’ Nat wasn’t sure how to ask all the burning questions she had about his son. What happened to his mother? How old was Drew when he was born?

  ‘My dad’s name was Bill, and yeah, Billy was born the same year Dad passed away. It was a tough time but I had Mum. Now it’s just us.’ Drew picked up the bowl of yabby meat before continuing. ‘That’s what worries me about Billy. I’m not my mum and I’m not sure if I can help him as much as she did. I’m really hoping that he doesn’t fall too far behind at school.’

  ‘I’m keeping an eye on him,’ said Nat.

  ‘Thank you. You’ve already earnt his trust so that will go a long way in helping him get through this year. I’m not the best when it comes to homework.’ Drew stood up and Nat followed. ‘We can wash up in the laundry.’

  ‘I don’t want you to worry. We’ll work together to help him. And you can always call me if you need. I’m not going back to Perth as much, which is giving me lots of time with nothing to do.’

  ‘If you ever get bored there is always something to do here on the farm.’ Drew said. ‘Maybe I could employ you to tutor Billy?’ he added suddenly.

  ‘Yeah, if it comes to that.’ Nat didn’t really need the money; she’d help Billy for free.

  ‘Dad, table’s ready,’ yelled Billy even though they’d just walked inside.

  After washing up Nat sat at the table, which was set with a bowl of sauce and bread.

  Billy sat beside her again. ‘Now we have yabby sandwiches. Like this.’ He grabbed some bread, filled it with the yabbie tails and covered it with the sauce before putting a top slice on. ‘Would you like to try it?’ mumbled Billy, shoving his bitten sandwich in her direction.

  ‘I might make my own.’ Nat usually tried to avoid eating white bread but this time she’d make an exception. ‘Oh, this is yummy. The sauce really works.’

  ‘Dad makes the best yabby sauce,’ said Billy, with a blob of it on his chin. ‘It’s got mayo in it, and other stuff.’

  ‘Just about the only thing I can do, hey, buddy? Mum tried hard to teach me how to cook before she . . .’ Drew stared at his sandwich. ‘She needed to know that we’d survive without her and wouldn’t li
ve off pies and chips.’

  ‘Maybe one day I can repay the favour and make you guys dinner,’ she said.

  ‘Really? Can you make sushi? I love sushi,’ said Billy.

  Drew laughed. ‘Don’t be so eager to replace me, buddy.’

  ‘Oh, no, Dad,’ said Billy quickly. His face dropped.

  ‘I was just kidding, mate. It’s all good.’ Drew winked at his son and Billy’s face lit up again.

  Billy was one of those kids who felt every emotion keenly, and Nat saw how it affected him in the playground. The other kids were obviously used to him, but she’d hate to see how he’d fare in a bigger city school. He’d be ostracised for his lack of social skills.

  After lunch, Nat helped clear the plates away but Drew wouldn’t let her do any dishes. The rain had stopped so they put on their boots and Billy took her to the chook pens, where they threw the yabby scraps. Nat couldn’t get over how many chooks there were, or their beautiful feathers.

  ‘These were Mum’s girls. She loved her chooks. Ducks are in the last pen,’ said Drew, pointing.

  There were four pens in a row, with different breeds in each, plus the ducks.

  ‘Oh my god. Chicks!’ she said, squatting down to get a better look.

  Billy went inside the pen and picked one up for her to cuddle.

  ‘It’s so cute. My nana used to have some in her backyard in a little chicken coop. I’d love to do the same.’ Nat rubbed the baby chick against her cheek, the soft yellow feathers like nothing she’d ever felt.

  ‘We can build you one, hey, Dad? Then you can get your own eggs.’

  It was almost gut-wrenching to have to put the chick back. Maybe that’s what she needed to keep her company in her little blue house.

  Eventually they sloshed back through the wet dirt to the house and Nat said it was time to head home. She didn’t want to outstay her welcome, even though she’d had so much fun.

  The boys walked her to her car after she’d collected her shoes and wet clothes. The sky was almost clear and the sun was shining, making it hard to believe it had ever rained.

  ‘Did you make these, Drew?’ asked Nat, pointing to the metal creations along the path.