Dear Banjo

by Sasha Wasley

  ‘The homeopathic vaccine should be enough for me.’

  ‘Ouch!’ He clutched his chest. ‘I’ve missed your cutting wit, Banjo.’

  Beth arrived at their shoulders. ‘What are you doing over here? Come dance!’

  ‘She’s not feeling crash-hot.’

  Beth turned to Willow, concerned.

  ‘No, I’m fine, just a bit tiddly,’ Willow assured her sister. ‘The bubbly’s not sitting right with that chocolate mousse.’

  ‘Okay. Come on, Tom!’ Beth heaved him to his feet. ‘Get your dancey arse back out here.’

  He shot Willow an apologetic look and joined Beth and her team on the floor for a few songs. The Forrests had found some old friends and were sitting nattering with them at another table, so Willow sat and watched the dance floor, laughing to herself. Beth had always loved dancing and looked pretty happy shaking her booty, even in much higher heels than Willow could have managed. Tom had some good moves, for a farm boy. He had his sleeves rolled up and she observed how the shirt fabric strained across the muscle of his chest, and how when he turned the trousers hugged his very cute arse. Willow’s mind wandered back to the feeling of being pressed up close against his warm, hard body on the dance floor, those blue eyes gazing down into hers . . .

  What the hell? She shook herself and tried to think about anything other than Tom. Spreadsheets. Topographical maps. Per-kilo goat prices.

  I must be drunk, she told herself. Her brain wasn’t in gear. Beth’s young receptionist shimmied up to Tom and turned around temptingly, inviting him to move in closer and dance against her. Willow’s heart skipped and she grabbed her wineglass, taking a gulp. But Tom just laughed, gave the girl a spin under his arm and skilfully moved her on to another young bloke in the group who was happy to shimmy with her. He glanced quickly at Willow and made a face that suggested Yikes! She relaxed and smiled back at him.

  ‘Hi – Willow, right?’

  She looked up into the face of a man she didn’t recognise. An old schoolmate, maybe? He looked about her age.

  ‘Hi – uh – I’m sorry. I can’t place you.’

  ‘That’s because we haven’t met. I picked up your name in Tom’s speech.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘Anthony Cowan. I’m the sales manager at Yelverton Machinery.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ She shook his hand, willing herself to appear sober.

  He rubbed his close-shaven head. ‘Tom spoke very highly of you.’

  ‘Hah, yeah, that was nice of him.’ Willow fidgeted with her necklace.

  ‘Mind if I sit?’ he said.

  She nodded at Beth’s chair. ‘It’s good to meet someone in the machinery industry. Our tractor’s getting pretty long in the tooth.’

  ‘We do good deals on trade-ins,’ he said.

  They chatted machinery for a few minutes and he handed Willow his card. She promised to contact him when she was ready to talk business. He got up to depart but then hesitated. ‘Do you fancy a dance?’ he asked, tipping his head back towards the dance floor.

  She was startled. ‘No, thanks. I wasn’t feeling too well so I came to sit down.’ She smiled weakly.

  ‘No worries, maybe next time. Give me a call, okay?’ He disappeared into the crowd.

  Another song later and Tom was back with her. ‘Bloody hell,I can’t keep up out there,’ he said as he sank into the chair next to her, grabbing his water glass.

  ‘You were doing all right.’

  ‘You feeling better?’

  ‘Much.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced across the room to where Anthony Cowan of Yelverton Machinery was back at his table, drinking beer with his workmates. ‘What did Tony want?’

  ‘That Cowan bloke? To network, I think. Gave me his card.’ She showed him. ‘Told me to come by when I want a new tractor.’

  Tom watched her, fiddling with a discarded order-of-ceremonies sheet. ‘He didn’t want anything else?’

  She shrugged lopsidedly.

  ‘He didn’t ask you to dance, maybe?’

  ‘Oh, he’s that sort, is he?’

  ‘No, he’s not really like that. I just recognise when a bloke’s making a move on a girl.’

  ‘Well, he probably wants my business badly enough to butter me up.’

  Tom looked amused and shook his head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, he wants to dance with you so he can get your business. Nothing to do with the fact that you look incredible tonight.’

  The blush was instant and so intense she felt almost light-headed. No. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t deal with their friendship teetering uncertainly. They’d only just got everything back into place. She looked around desperately for a distraction – any distraction.

  He got in before she could find one. ‘Hey, it’s just a compliment, Banjo. Take it graciously.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she managed. ‘You look very nice, too.’

  ‘Very nice, huh? I’ll try not to swagger too much, knowing how nice I’m looking tonight.’

  She recovered herself. ‘Okay, you look handsome. Better?’

  ‘Devastatingly debonair are the words I think you’re looking for.’

  Thank God for Tom’s sense of humour.

  ‘Liam, can we have a chat about Jean?’

  ‘Of course. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, more than okay, actually. She’s doing an amazing job. That stint she did at Quintilla, it really inspired her. She’s swapping recipes with their cook every day, working hard on the kitchen menu, paying attention to what goes down well with the boys. And, best of all, she’s reducing the shopping costs week on week.’

  Hegney laughed. ‘She’d want to be.’

  Willow ignored the remark. ‘I think we should recognise her efforts.’

  ‘I’ll let her know she’s doing a good job. I can mention it at the toolbox meeting this week.’

  ‘That’s great, but I meant something more substantial. A bonus, maybe, or a pay rise.’

  His dark eyebrows tugged down immediately. ‘A pay rise! That’s a bit extreme. Sounds like a good way to get everyone else on the station complaining.’

  ‘Or maybe a good way to motivate extra effort.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Hegney’s face reddened. ‘We can’t afford to go around throwing money away left, right and centre. The costs have blown out of control lately —’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Her voice sharpened.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  His voice was so low and unfriendly that she was left speechless for a moment. She took a breath. ‘I’m not going to continue to justify the costs to you, Liam. You’ve seen the business plan and there has been very little money, if any, that’s been spent outside its scope. As an experienced businessman, I’m sure you know there will be extra outlay during the transition to certification.’

  ‘Well, why exacerbate the problem by throwing raises around? Once they get wind of it, the rest will be asking why they haven’t had one, too. There’s only so much money the station can haemorrhage before it starts to sink.’

  She was dumbfounded by his language. Then he said it – the thing that confirmed what she’d suspected all along. ‘Women and money. Give ’em an inch and they’ll take a mile.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  He seemed to realise he’d gone too far. ‘Jean, I meant.’

  Willow kept her gaze steady on his face until he dropped his eyes. She knew exactly who he’d meant.

  ‘Liam, I respect your opinion as assistant manager,’ she emphasised the word assistant just a touch, ‘but in this case, I believe Jean’s effort is worth some reward. Quintilla’s cook is the best paid in the region, in recognition of the extra effort that goes into running a kitchen using premium ingredients. We can afford to reward Jean a little for her achievements.’

  She saw a scowl. ‘Quintilla’s cook also happens to be screwing the owner’s son. You don’t think that might have something to do with her excellent remuneration?’

  Wit
h an effort, Willow kept her face calm. ‘No, as a matter of fact, I don’t think that’s got anything to do with what Sam is paid. And it’s sure as hell got nothing to do with what Jean should be getting paid. She’s on the very lowest of award rates for her role. As far as I’m concerned, her experience and loyalty alone warrant a raise.’

  Hegney swore and strode away. Rude bastard. How dare he treat her that way? She was willing to bet he’d never spoken to Barry like that. If only she could tell her father what a jerk the guy was being – but she didn’t want to endanger his recovery with that kind of stress.

  Thinking about her father prompted Willow to seek his opinion on the pay-rise issue. He nodded encouragingly when she asked him. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Jean’s been here for years now and she does a bloody good job. I thoroughly enjoyed that thing she cooked up yesterday. That rice and mussels thing.’

  ‘Her paella?’ Willow grinned. ‘What about the other staff? Will they buck if she gets a raise and they don’t?’

  Barry pulled a face. ‘Never been a problem for me. As far as I’m concerned, if someone deserves a raise, they deserve a bloody raise. Got nothing to do with anybody else.’

  Willow sank into a chair with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Dad. It’s not always easy to know if I’m doing the right thing.’

  ‘What you’re doing is bang-on, sweetheart.’

  She told Jean in the afternoon, waiting until Hegney had gone to supervise some weaner treatment. The woman’s eyes widened.

  ‘Thanks, boss!’ she exclaimed. ‘Shit! That’s put a smile on my face.’

  Willow laughed. ‘Like I said, it’s not huge, but it’s something. We’re really impressed with the way you’ve taken on the extra responsibility of managing an organic kitchen.’

  ‘I’m loving it,’ Jean confided. ‘And I don’t care how small the raise is, I’ll take it. First one I’ve had since I started here.’

  Willow was sure the woman must be joking – almost sure. ‘Really?’

  ‘Too right. Hegney said profit margins were too slim to hand out pay rises.’

  What? Willow attempted to maintain a calm façade. ‘Are you sure?’

  Jean laughed. ‘I think I’d know about it. Not that I expect anything,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m bloody pleased you were able to give me a raise. Thanks, boss.’

  Willow waved Jean’s thanks away and headed for the house. Could Jean be correct? She hadn’t had a raise in over three years, not even to cover indexation? She went straight into the office and pulled up the payroll to check Jean’s payment records back to the start of her employment. Holy crap! She’d been earning the same low award rate for three years – in fact, she was on lower than the award rate as of last July. Willow reread the screen in dismay. She made some mental calculations of what they owed her. How humiliating to have to confess they’d been underpaying her. And the poor woman had been so grateful just to get a small raise. She jumped up.

  ‘Dad,’ she said, finding him doing a jigsaw puzzle with Free at the kitchen table. ‘When did you hand over the bookkeeping and payroll to Hegney?’

  He considered. ‘Would be four, maybe five years back? About a year after he started here. I trained him first in how to use our systems.’ Willow was silent. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, just looking at our procedures and roles generally. What’s your opinion of his skills? Financial skills, I mean?’

  ‘Bloody excellent,’ her father said without hesitation. ‘The profit margin improved steadily when Hegney started managing the books. He really knows how to keep a lid on costs.’

  Doesn’t he just? Willow thought bitterly.

  She went back to the office and sat down to calculate the exact amount they needed to backpay Jean and enter the pay rise into the system, in addition to her amended rate. That Hegney, what a dumbarse. Jean would sure be happy on her next payday, anyway. Hopefully she wouldn’t say too much to the other staff.

  Doubt seized Willow all of a sudden. The other staff. If Hegney had done it to Jean, was it possible he’d been so lax as to underpay some of the other staff too?

  She pulled up the award rates chart and starting checking the other staff records, one-by-one. An hour later she went outside and found Hegney directing the station hands in preparation for the arrival of the new stock the next day.

  ‘Excuse me, Liam. A word, please.’ She kept her voice under control.

  He saw straight away that it was serious. He said something to the station hands and joined Willow. She walked back to the office and closed the door behind them.

  ‘Thirty-seven. We’ve had thirty-seven staff on our books in the past four years and twenty-four of those have been underpaid.’

  She thought she saw something cross his face – something quickly concealed. ‘What are you talking about? That’s bullshit.’

  Willow flicked the monitor around to face him. ‘Two award rate increases ignored for the station hands. One for the stockmen. One for Jean and one for Vern. The rates we are paying are so woefully out of date, we would be up for major fines if the tax office were to pick up on it.’

  Hegney frowned over the screen she was showing him. She pushed a print-out in front of him. He looked up at her slowly.

  ‘Could someone have been messing with the figures?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think the problem here is that no one was messing with the figures.’

  ‘Are you implying I haven’t done my job properly?’

  She could hardly believe her ears. ‘It’s your job to manage payroll, am I correct? My father trusted you with that task four years ago. You haven’t done your job properly.’

  He had every excuse under the sun. Barry must have been screwing around with the system; the accountant should have picked it up; the system was faulty – a good accounting package flagged award-rate increases when it went through an update. Willow was more furious at his lack of accountability than the mistake itself.

  ‘I’ve calculated the amount we owe,’ she said, her voice shaking with anger. She snatched up a yellow sticky note and held it in front of his nose. ‘Looks like we’ll be haemorrhaging a little more money, right, Liam?’

  He blinked when he saw the figure she was showing him.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he said weakly. ‘That can’t be right. Half of those staff aren’t even with us any more.’

  ‘We still have to pay them,’ she snapped. ‘If we can track them down, we pay them.’

  ‘Most of them are probably long gone from Mount Clair.’

  She got madder. ‘I may not have as much experience as you, but I know it’s illegal not pay people what they’re due, even if they’ve moved on.’

  ‘We wouldn’t get caught for that —’

  ‘It’s illegal and it’s immoral. It’s not what we do at Patersons. This is not how we operate.’

  He backed down. ‘Yeah, all right. Okay.’

  ‘You didn’t wonder why the profits were suddenly so good, even while beef prices stayed pretty steady?’ she couldn’t help but ask.

  ‘I’d implemented some cost-cutting measures. I figured they were showing better results than expected.’

  She had to bite back what she wanted to say, which was You unbelievable idiot! ‘I’m taking over payroll from hereon in.’

  He opened his mouth but when he saw her face he closed it again. ‘Fine.’ He grabbed his hat and stomped out.

  The nerve of him to be pissed at her when he’d screwed up so badly. Willow paced the small office, thinking about the money. Realistically, this wouldn’t break them. It would probably delay some purchases she’d been thinking about making. With the certification plan, and now this, they would be in for a lean few years. She sighed. She’d have to tell Barry, too, or he would catch wind of it through staff talk or even correspondence from the tax office after she informed them.

  Not now, though. She had to calm down before she faced her father.

  Barry insisted on talking to Hegney after she broke t
he news. Willow left them to it, sitting on the patio to reply to an email from Tanya. She could hardly concentrate, listening for voices as she tapped out a half-hearted reply on her phone.

  Hi Tan,

  Things are great here! I wish you could see the station. I’m glad Kevin’s coping with the teaching load, and your puppy sounds adorable!

  Raised voices from the house alerted her and she stopped typing, listening intently. It went quiet again.

  Sounds like Bryan and you —

  Her father’s voice rose once more. Willow saved her email as a draft and paced the patio, chewing on her nails while Barry shouted in the office. From what she could hear, he was more upset about the damage to Patersons’ reputation, as well as the welfare of the staff, than the financial hit they were about to take. She was worried about his stress levels, but grateful her father had his priorities straight. When it finally died down, Hegney came outside, banging through the screen door and slamming his hat onto his head without sparing her a sideways glance.

  The onerous tasks of adjusting the next pay run, writing letters to inform the staff – past and present – of the error, and tracking down former employees fell to Willow. Her work was interrupted on Tuesday by the arrival of the Brahman herd. When the cows were settled in the holding yards with troughs of Willow’s special feed mix, she stood by the fence to examine them.

  She’d expected to feel a sense of accomplishment but all she felt was worry after the events of recent days. Tom came over to check out the new stock.

  ‘Nice-looking bunch,’ he remarked. ‘Well, as nice-looking as Brahmans get.’

  ‘I hope they cope all right with the feed change.’

  ‘There will be some serious cow shit over the next few days, but you know that already.’

  ‘Did your herd get diarrhoea?’

  ‘Yeah. It passed within a day. Hell of a clean-up afterwards.’ He grimaced.

  ‘When we tested the process on the campus herd it was the same. And all the studies I’ve read said a day or two. I’m looking forward to taking them up to the first pasture.’