by Sasha Wasley
‘Everything all right?’ Beth asked her quietly. Willow found her sister’s eyes on her, her expression concerned.
‘Yeah. I’m just a dumbarse sometimes.’
‘You? Never.’
‘I totally am.’
Beth looked beyond her, up to the barbecue. ‘Tom?’
Willow focused on her wineglass. ‘I’m so self-centred. I keep thinking I’m a grown-up and then I realise I’m not.’
Beth chuckled. ‘That happens to me all the time.’
‘Not as bad as me, I’ll bet.’
Beth wanted details but Willow shook her head, nodding subtly towards Cathy. Beth understood. A couple of minutes later Tom came over and gave her a tentative smile.
‘Hand over the mushies. I don’t let anyone else cook on my barbecue.’
‘He’s renowned for it,’ Beth said, nudging Willow. ‘Give ’em up.’
She handed them over meekly, the heat starting in her cheeks again. He took them over to the barbecue. Dinner was served shortly after and, although the spread was delicious, Willow found it hard to eat. She was still angry about Samantha’s comment and even angrier that Tom and Samantha were a thing. Plus there was the horrible embarrassment of her possessive sulkiness. Tom came over with the Hill of Grace bottle and refilled her glass wordlessly. She mumbled thanks, expecting him to join his friends from town, but he sat down next to Beth.
‘I hope Dad’s not drinking beer again.’ Beth peered across to where their father was sitting with Bob, Vern and a couple of stockmen.
‘Hegney gave him one before I could stop him,’ said Free. ‘He promised only one.’
Damn Hegney.
‘Barry tells me you might have a job at Mount Clair High School, Free,’ Cathy said.
‘I don’t have the job yet, but I’ve applied for it. I doubt I’ll get it. It would be awesome, though. It’s an artist-in-residence thing. The school received a grant for some local artists to work with the kids and develop a mosaic wall. I worked so hard on the application before I went to Europe.’
‘When would the residency start?’ Cathy asked.
‘It starts in February when the kids go back and runs for the whole of semester one.’
‘Long way to drive to work every day,’ Beth remarked.
‘If I get it, they’ll give me accommodation in a government house in town.’
‘You could just stay with me,’ Beth said. ‘I’ve got room.’
‘Oh! I suppose I could.’ Free’s voice had a note of hesitation. Was she still mad at Beth for not being completely honest about their father?
‘No travel plans for the near future, then?’ asked Tom.
‘Not while I’m waiting to hear back from the school! This is the closest thing to a real job opportunity I’ve found since I finished art college. But if I don’t get it, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll just ramp up my Etsy store, sell as much as I can to make some cash, and go to South America for a bit.’
Conversation moved on to the awards night and Cathy switched her attention to Beth. ‘And your clinic is up for an award from the Chamber of Commerce, too, I believe. That’s wonderful, love.’
Free complained that she hadn’t been invited but Beth told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had to stay home with Barry. Free pouted for a few minutes and then remembered it was the finale of her favourite reality show that night and she couldn’t possibly go out anyway. Barry was now addicted as well, she informed them gleefully, so she had a viewing buddy.
‘We’re on a random table,’ said Tom. ‘Since it’s just me, Mum and Dad, the organiser said we’d be placed with another group.’
‘It’s tables of ten,’ said Beth. ‘We’ve only got six so you might get put with us.’
Tom brightened.
‘Actually, I’ll ring the organiser and see if I can arrange that, shall I?’ Beth suggested. ‘That way you won’t get stuck somewhere inappropriate. Like with the Peel’s Pesticides team – or Country Fried Chicken.’
‘Thanks.’ He grinned and forked some pasta salad into his mouth before sliding another slightly perplexed look at Willow.
‘God, these sausages are so good,’ said Free. ‘It’s like being in Austria all over again. Hey, why aren’t you taking your girlfriend to the awards, Tom?’
Willow’s stomach seemed to flip itself into a knot. He laughed but noticed Free was expecting a reply. ‘Girlfriend?’
Free nodded towards the patio. ‘Sam.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ Tom didn’t look at Willow.
Free chuckled. ‘Everyone knows, Tom. It’s okay.’
‘I assure you, Samantha is not Tom’s girlfriend,’ Cathy said a little stiffly.
‘Oh.’ Free seemed puzzled. ‘Must be the Mount Clair rumour mill at work.’ She dove back into her dinner.
But Willow definitely couldn’t eat now. So Tom and Samantha were just one another’s bit of fun? They had a trashy, friends-with-benefits arrangement? He wasn’t even dignifying the relationship by calling her his girlfriend? She was totally disgusted, staring down at her beautifully cooked field mushrooms with zero appetite. She laid her plate aside and sipped her wine, refusing to meet Tom’s eyes. How could he behave in such an ugly manner?
Not wanting to ruin everyone’s night, she forced herself to get through the party, but every time she thought about Tom and Samantha, her stomach rolled. None of my business, her logic kept shouting at her, but she was upset by this new knowledge. It didn’t help that Tom kept catching her eye. She shot him one or two tight smiles to deflect his suspicion but avoided talking to him and his friends. Even the beautiful wine tasted wrong now and she ended up leaving her glass half-full on the kitchen bench before she went home early with her worn-out father.
Beth went home to Patersons with her sisters and father so she could have a coffee before the long drive back to town. She pulled Willow by the arm into the living room so Free, who was in her bedroom video-calling with an international friend, wouldn’t hear them.
‘I need to check on Dad,’ Willow objected.
‘He’s fine. I saw him go to bed.’ She gave Willow a long look. ‘What happened tonight?’
‘It’s stupid. It’s nothing.’
Beth wasn’t going to let it go. Eventually Willow gave in and told her what Samantha had said. As Willow explained, she was hit again with how jealous and controlling she sounded.
‘I just think it’s a bit tacky of him to be messing around with one of his staff like that. You know?’ She searched Beth’s face for some kind of agreement.
Beth considered. ‘They’re both consenting adults.’ She frowned. ‘But are you sure you didn’t mishear? I wouldn’t have picked Sam as Tom’s type.’
‘You can’t really mishear the words Tom’s hot sausage,’ Willow said with a grimace.
Beth had to concede. ‘But why does this bother you so much? Are you having – thoughts – about Tom?’
Willow felt the dreaded blush returning. ‘No. I guess that’s why I got annoyed at myself. I’ve got no right to judge but I’m disappointed in him.’
Beth watched her closely and the blush intensified. ‘Really?’
‘Really. It’s trashy. I’m surprised his parents tolerate it.’
‘Perhaps they don’t know.’
Willow shrugged. Cathy had seemed uptight about the suggestion that Tom and Samantha were a couple. She knew something, it seemed.
‘Maybe you should say something to him,’ said Beth. ‘You know, suggest more discretion, or something.’
Willow shook her head. ‘I just need to build a bridge and get over it. But I’m not sure I want the friendship to continue on its current terms. Maybe we don’t have as much in common as I thought.’ The pang of pain when she said this was deep.
‘Check your facts first. Sam might have been exaggerating. Perhaps the relationship was happening for a while, and then ended? Or she might have been kidding around.’
A hell of a thing to joke about
. The fact that you and your employer were in a regular, sexual relationship wasn’t exactly something that should be tossed around casually. But Willow nodded and drank her coffee.
The station was abuzz with activity for the early part of the week. A few hundred head of cattle had been brought in for sale. The noise and dust in the yards was incredible, with cows bellowing, station hands counting and stockmen shouting. By Tuesday night they had the cattle loaded up onto trucks for transportation to the stockyards. Willow watched the semitrailers roll away in the darkness, their headlights illuminating the stone and timber Paterson Downs sign at the end of the driveway.
On Thursday, an early morning flight to the saleyards was a good distraction for Willow – and a neat way to continue avoiding contact with Tom. The Patersons stock sold at a decent price and Willow selected a healthy looking herd of Brahmans. She and Hegney managed the return trip within one day, although they didn’t get back to the station until nearly midnight.
‘When are the Brahmans arriving?’ Barry asked Willow in the morning. He was excited. He loved the procurement of new beasts.
‘Should be Tuesday,’ she said. ‘After we’ve checked and branded them, I want to keep them yarded close to the homestead for a few weeks, give them some special feed I’m mixing that should help transition them to eating the junicora weeds. Quintilla have tried this,’ she added quickly, seeing her father’s uncertain expression. ‘It works really well.’
He relaxed. ‘Sounds good, love. You’re really doing a beaut job managing the station.’
She was touched. Then she saw Tom’s 4WD pull into the carpark and her stomach clenched.
‘I’m going to catch up with Vern,’ she said, ‘to talk about the new cattle.’ She made a quick retreat.
Tom still managed to track her down. She was talking Vern through the feed mix and weed harvesting trip when he appeared beside them.
‘Hi, Vern, Banjo.’
Willow nodded tersely and went back to the conversation. Tom listened for a while and she was a little aggravated when he offered some good advice. ‘Remind your blokes not to rip the plants up by the roots and to leave any seed heads. Try to cut the leaves away without damaging the plant too much.’
She fumed silently. She had meant to say that herself but forgot in her agitation.
‘Actually,’ she said, ignoring him, ‘let’s take a quick ride out there now, Vern. We can go through the process.’
Vern looked a little doubtful. ‘On the horses, boss? Bit of a long trek.’
‘No, we can take a vehicle.’
‘Mind if I tag along?’ Tom asked.
Her vexation rose. ‘Fine,’ she muttered. He seemed amused, which pissed her off even more.
Willow went for her camera and they headed out in one of the station vehicles to the closest fenced pasture block. She took photos of the weeds and demonstrated the harvesting procedure for Vern. He said he wanted to check the concentration of plants and moved further into the pasture. She went to follow him but Tom spoke.
‘Hey, Banjo, I’ve got a question for you.’
‘Yes?’ she said, her voice cool.
‘Clearly I’ve done something that bothers you. I could see you were mad at me on Saturday night. Since then you haven’t replied to my emails or picked up a chat all week.’
She kept her gaze on Vern, wandering among the weeds, and attempted to formulate a reply that didn’t sound off-the-planet angry.
‘I did a bit of thinking about what was said during that conversation with Mum and Free,’ he said.
That bloody stupid flush was spreading up her face again.
‘What was said about me and Sam,’ Tom added, as though she might be confused. He took a breath. ‘And you seemed to think something was going on with Sam, too – even before Free said anything. I was wondering – is that what you’re pissed off at me about?’
‘It’s fine. It’s your choice and none of my business. I can deal with it.’
‘I thought we were better than this now, Banjo. Better than getting mad and blanking each other. I thought we’d both learned from – from what’s happened in the past.’
She experienced a stab of shame. ‘I suppose it’s just hard for me to come to terms with behaviour that’s so far from what I would expect of you.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow. That’s harsh.’
And you’re a big disappointment.
‘Why does it bug you so much?’ he asked her.
She whipped her head around to look at him with disbelief. ‘Uh, maybe because it’s just dodgy to sleep with a member of your staff, and even dodgier to do so without having any kind of genuine relationship? Obviously even your mum thinks Sam’s too far below you to be considered a real girlfriend. Personally I don’t like the girl but she deserves a little more respect than what you’re giving her.’
Tom’s mouth had dropped open but Vern was returning, calling something out to them, so he was prevented from defending himself. As if his position is somehow defensible.
‘There’s more over that way.’ Vern pointed. ‘You reckon we could use mowing equipment, boss?’
Willow considered. ‘Whipper-snippers would be okay. Mowers would damage the base and roots, I think.’
Vern scratched his chin. ‘Probably two or three days’ work to gather a ton or two.’
‘That works, if the herd’s getting here Tuesday.’
They got in the car and drove back to Patersons. In the backseat, Tom had his lips pressed together in a tight line. Don’t like getting called out on your bullshit behaviour, huh? But Willow didn’t feel like she’d won the argument. She just felt empty. Sad.
‘I’ll go print off these photos so you can brief your team,’ Willow told Vern when they parked.
She headed for the house but Tom caught her arm again. She shook him off. Vern saw the exchange and turned his face away immediately, heading for the staff quarters without a backwards glance.
‘Would you just bloody listen for a second?’ Tom muttered.
‘There’s nothing you could say that would justify it,’ she retorted.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Listen to you. You’re so goddamn frustrating.’ He put his hands on her upper arms and looked her full in the face. ‘I am not sleeping with Sam. I’m not in a relationship with her of any kind other than employer-employee.’
‘But she said —’
‘I can imagine what she said. It’s bullshit. I can’t believe you really thought it was true.’
She didn’t know what to believe now. Tom had never been a liar but everyone seemed to know about the covert relationship between him and Samantha.
‘Even Free had heard the rumours,’ she said, ‘and she’s in her own world most of the time.’
He grimaced. ‘Because Sam is full of crap, and she’s more energetic than anybody when it comes to spreading rumours. She talks to Jean a lot, so I guess Jean’s the one who said something to Free. Who knows? Me and Sam being an item seems to be public knowledge in Mount Clair except that it’s categorically untrue.’
Still unsure, Willow couldn’t help a little bit of outrage. ‘What the hell is Sam doing, spreading rumours like that?’
Tom glanced around. A couple of station hands were nearby, loading up a ute with fence-repair equipment. He didn’t want people listening, she realised.
She indicated the feed shed with her head. ‘Come talk in there.’
He followed her to the shed, the air sweet with the scent of cattle feed and pony cubes. She sank onto a hay bale and Tom leaned against the wall opposite.
‘I’m telling you God’s honest truth now, Banjo.’ His blue eyes were sincere. ‘Sam has been popular with the staff from the day we employed her a couple of years ago. She’s got a good sense of humour but flirts with anything that moves. She did with me, too, and I guess I kind of joined in once or twice. Flirted back. Everyone did. Except she got an idea in her head that I meant it. She tried to lay one on me one night – a kiss,’ he adde
d hurriedly, seeing Willow’s face. ‘I told her no way. I realised how dumb I’d been to go tit-for-tat with her like the other blokes did. I thought she was like that with everyone but apparently she wanted something a bit more from me.
‘I was bloody mortified, Banjo. I’ve never crossed any lines with staff and I blame myself that she got the wrong idea. Mum caught wind of something and blasted the hell out of me. She was almost as hard to convince that nothing had happened as you are. She wanted to sack Sam but I talked her out of it. Since then, I’ve been careful about the way I talk to her. But Sam? Not so much. She can be pretty inappropriate but we tend to let it slide because she’s damn good at her job and the other staff love her.’
Willow stared. ‘So she just says stuff like that about you even though there’s no truth in it?’
He came closer and crouched down in front of her, his expression earnest. ‘There’s nothing between Sam and me. Never has been. I swear – on our friendship.’
‘You never . . .’
He shook his head emphatically. ‘God, no. Apart from the fact that I just don’t go there with staff, Sam’s not my type.’ He paused. ‘I would have thought you’d know that.’
Willow caught her breath and the heat rushed into her cheeks again. Her mind went blank.
‘You want to tell me why it got you so upset?’ His voice was low.
She stood up quickly and moved away. ‘I was just being my typical sanctimonious self, I guess. Again.’
He stood, slowly. ‘You mean jumping to conclusions about your oldest friend based on the throw-away comment of the Quintilla cook?’ He gave her a quick smile to show her he was teasing but she felt bad.
‘Shit. I’m sorry, Tom. I need my bloody head read sometimes.’
He laughed. ‘Forget it. I spoke to her yesterday, anyway. Just to remind her how damaging it can be to staff morale to make insinuations like that.’
‘What did she say?’