by Sasha Wasley
‘But why?’
‘So we can move forward.’
She stared at the spindly trees lining the riverbed. ‘Haven’t we already?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘We’re older and wiser now, right? I apologised. I know it doesn’t make up for it but I don’t know what else I can do.’
‘Can we just talk about what it was like?’
‘What what was like?’
‘Well, I can’t remember what I wrote in those letters I sent you, but what I can remember from that period in my life is how much I missed you.’
Willow was hit with a fresh wave of regret. ‘Shit. I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t need to hear that you’re sorry again. I just want to know the truth – what was that year like for you?’
‘It was okay,’ she said, feeling almost unbearably awkward. ‘It was a bit of a culture shock moving into the residential hall. That place was a party zone and the noise was unbelievable. I hardly slept for the first few weeks.’
‘Did you party?’
‘No. I didn’t get invited.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, I guess they invited me occasionally, but I was too nervous to go. I don’t make friends easily. I didn’t make any friends ’til I was in second year, really.’
‘And what was the coursework like?’
She shrugged. ‘It was okay. Interesting. I knew a lot of the agricultural stuff already, but the science was good. That was my favourite bit. Except – except sometimes when I learned something I could use on the station, I felt bad because you should have been there learning it with me.’
He looked towards the gorges. ‘I hated that you were off learning cool stuff and I was stuck here. It was the year from hell for me. You were gone and wouldn’t talk to me; I gave up on my uni plans. All the most important things in my world had been taken away.’
‘You didn’t have to defer uni!’
His eyes came back to hers. ‘No, you’re right. I didn’t have to and I probably shouldn’t have. I didn’t do it straight away. I hoped you would make contact and I could change my mind. I did it on impulse. I was so shell-shocked after we busted up.’
Me too, she thought, blinking back tears. ‘I just went to Perth as fast as I could get there and got settled into the residential hall. I was expecting you to turn up any day and was going through all the things I would say to you. But then I got your letter saying you weren’t coming after all. I wanted to phone and shout at you but . . .’
‘But you still couldn’t believe I’d tried to kiss you, huh?’
She stared at her hands. ‘I don’t know why I couldn’t talk to you. I floundered for that first year. I was alone, and rubbish at talking to people. I felt utterly out of my depth. Usually I would just hang out on my own for the whole weekend, all caught up on my studies, feeling bloody lonely and sorry for myself. I would have quit and come home except for my stubborn pride. I didn’t want anyone from Mount Clair thinking Willow Paterson couldn’t cut it in the city. Instead, I asked Dad to let me fly home every single study break, even the shortest ones.’ She took a breath and shot him a glance. He was watching her keenly, taking in every word. ‘So if you want to know whether or not I missed you, yes, of course I did.’
‘But you never thought maybe you should answer one of my letters, or visit me during a study break? Or, shit, I don’t know – send me a text message or something?’
‘I almost did a few times but I was scared you’d —’
‘What? Make another move on you?’
Ugh, he’d said it again. He kept mentioning that moment.
‘No. I was scared to confront it, I guess.’
‘How did you think we were going to get through it if we didn’t confront it?’
‘I don’t know. Sweep it under the mat and hope neither of us ever mentioned it again?’
‘Yeah, I can’t do that.’
‘So I see.’ She fiddled with a piece of hay. ‘I wanted to talk. Honestly. Each time I came home I made up my mind to go see you and each time I chickened out.’
‘Scared I’d try again?’
‘Yes – and no. I was scared, full stop. Of everything.’
‘Jeez, Banjo. I’m starting to think it was almost as bad for you as it was for me.’
‘It was worse for me!’ She gave him a wobbly grin. ‘How am I doing? Talking about this like a normal, functioning person?’
‘Stop that,’ he said, smiling nevertheless. ‘You’re only a little bit dysfunctional.’
‘Oh, good. The medication will be cheaper.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re doing amazingly. Knowing you weren’t off partying every weekend and forgetting your friends and family in Mount Clair even existed – it makes me sad to know you weren’t happy but it’s kind of a relief.’ He checked her face. ‘How’s that for not rising above petty bitterness?’
‘Ah, it soothes our selfish souls to know one another suffered just as much.’
He wanted to know more about her university days so she told him about some of the field trips and the science labs, her masters research, the lecturers – good and bad – and what the other students in the course were like.
‘What about you?’ she asked when he’d stopped questioning her and was staring pensively down at the muddy riverbed. ‘What was life like here?’
‘You know exactly what life was like here because it hasn’t changed from when we were kids.’
‘But what did you do? What did you get up to?’
‘Farming, mostly.’
‘Tom. You must have had a social scene.’
‘I’ve got a few mates in town. Remember Briggsy from school?’ She nodded. ‘I occasionally went in for a big night at the pub and stayed at Briggsy’s place. I was trying to learn about organic certification and biodynamics and experimenting with sustainable station-management methods, so I was kind of busy.’
‘Too committed to your vision to party?’ she teased.
He grinned. ‘I wasn’t really in the mood for partying that year. The second year was better. Dad bought the helicopter so I enrolled in a flying course. I had to do the theory online. That was hard. I studied much harder than I ever did in school, and then I did a practical course in Mount Clair before we got the flying instructor out to Quintilla for a couple of weeks to finish my training and get my flying hours up. It was challenging. Really good for me, you know? It sure took my mind off —’ He stopped and Willow felt a stab of pain for him. ‘Well, it was intensive, I mean.’
‘How long did it take?’
‘Maybe ten months, all up. Well worth it. I love flying, and it opened up a new world for us at Quintilla when we got the heli.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said.
‘Yeah, it took me out of my thoughts. Nothing like flying a chunk of metal with spinning blades through a rocky gorge to force you to live in the moment.’
Willow hesitated, but pushed herself. ‘You were depressed, you said in your letters.’ It was painful to say this and part of her hoped he would deny it.
‘Yeah, I think I was. Everything felt tarnished for a while. I sank deeper and deeper with every letter I sent you because the more the year went on, the more I realised I wasn’t going to get a reply. My world got flipped on its head. Everything I thought I understood about you and friendship and love – it all suddenly seemed to be a mistake.’
Willow had to hold in her tears. ‘I hate myself,’ she said in a low voice.
Tom shook his head. ‘Don’t. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just trying to explain what was going on for me. I was dumb. I should have gone to Perth and tracked you down and forced you to talk to me. Instead I stayed here and wallowed in my misery and decided women were a dark mystery and I was better off alone.’
‘No, you didn’t decide that,’ she said. ‘I know you had girlfriends. Beth told me.’
‘Girlfriends!’ He looked at her quickly. ‘Like who?’
; ‘I don’t know who or how many, just that they existed.’
‘Oh. There were only a couple and nothing serious. Did you have boyfriends?’
‘Same – just a couple. One was in my course. He was the only longish-term boyfriend. Eight months. None of the others lasted more than a few weeks.’
‘None of the others? Jeez, how many were there?’
‘Like, four. Maximum,’ she said hastily but when she caught his eye she realised he was teasing.
‘How did the long-termer end?’ he wanted to know.
‘I broke up with him. He was a little too – um – unmotivated for me.’
Tom burst into laughter. ‘Not working hard enough for you, huh, Banjo?’
‘He was average at everything. Cleaning, coursework, jokes – you name it.’
‘And you needed someone who would challenge you more?’
She was startled. ‘Huh. That’s exactly what I said when I broke up with him. I think he was slightly relieved.’ Tom chuckled again. ‘And you? Beth said you were seeing a teacher?’
‘Yeah, that was a few years ago. It lasted almost a year but she got offered work in Perth.’
‘So you split?’
‘Well, I think she was hoping I’d push her harder to stay in Mount Clair but I encouraged her to go where she could further her career. She got offended and dumped me.’
‘Stupid girl. You sacrificed your own feelings to encourage her to pursue her career.’
‘Well, yeah, and maybe I’d also had enough of the relationship by then.’
She cracked up this time. ‘A break-up of convenience. It’s lucky she got that job offer or you might be married to her by now.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Not the marrying kind?’ She asked it without thinking and then suddenly remembered he’d wanted to marry her when he was only seventeen. Obviously, he was the marrying kind.
However, he let her off the hook, flicking some debris out of the tray. ‘Probably not.’
‘Me neither.’ She checked her watch. ‘Beth should be here any minute.’
He glanced at her in a way that made her pulse pick up. Uh-oh. He wasn’t finished with this talk.
‘So, what about now?’ he asked. ‘Where do we stand? You freaked out when I asked you out on a date a couple of weeks ago. You jumped straight online afterwards to give me a good telling off.’
Her throat tight, she tried to explain. ‘I didn’t want you to try that again.’
‘Yeah, that came through loud and clear. In fact, it felt kind of like you were trying to stop me from even wanting to try it again.’
Willow paused, puzzled. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘The difference between trying again and wanting to try again? One’s what I do and the other’s what I feel, I guess.’
She caught her breath, suddenly claustrophobic despite the fresh morning air and open tray.
‘I tried to kiss you ten years ago,’ he said, stating it as though he needed to say it aloud. ‘You said you didn’t want that. You wanted a business partnership.’
‘Wait.’ Her voice betrayed her desperation. ‘I didn’t mean that was all I wanted. I wanted our friendship first, the business partnership second. But as soon as I said ‘business partnership’ it was like that was all you heard any more.’
‘I wanted a different kind of partnership.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Didn’t?’
‘Don’t, can’t. Now or then. Or . . . ever.’
He sighed, eyebrows knitted, and his shoulders dropped. ‘Can’t. Weird way to express it. Almost like you want to but something’s stopping you.’
She was silent, unable to think of a reply. If she could just explain what it was that was stopping her – but it was diffuse and intangible. It was hundreds of quad-bike races and pranks and packets of M&Ms in the hollow boab and nights watching meteor showers and sharing private jokes and bus rides. It was bee stings and red mud fights and pizza and grieving for her mother and hours talking about ways they could make the world better. It was far too much, and all far too precious, to risk.
‘Guess I’d better move on, then,’ he said, lying back in the tray and sticking up his boots on the edge. ‘Get myself back on the singles scene. Join eHarmony. Apply to get on the next season of Farmer Wants a Wife.’
She laughed. ‘You’d be a shoo-in. They love the hotties.’
‘Hottie!’ He looked up at her, feigning surprise. ‘You think I’m a hottie, then?’
Willow nudged him with her boot. ‘Shut up.’
‘Last chance,’ he said. ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace. I’m serious, Banjo. I won’t be asking you on any more dates after this. You sure, hundred per cent, you’re immune to the Tom Forrest effect?’
‘I’ll get the inoculation,’ she said, ‘just to be sure.’
‘Tough nut to crack,’ he sighed. ‘Willow Paterson, the one that got away.’
‘I’m not getting away or going away. I’ll always be your best friend.’
‘If I find a girlfriend, she might not be so cool about that.’
‘Bullshit,’ she declared, a pang hitting her nevertheless. ‘I’ll be the best neighbour and friend you and your wife could ever wish for. I’ll be around for coffee and nagging you to take me out in the heli. I’ll still be a big part of your life, just like I am now.’
His eyes were serious suddenly. ‘About that. It could be tough for me. In fact, it might be an idea to limit our contact – at least for a while. Give me a bit of time out, now we’ve finally resolved things.’
Willow was about to argue when the sound of an engine interrupted them. A moment later the mud- and dust-stained Beast came into view around a bend. Beth honked the horn and Willow and Tom jumped up, waving their arms as though marooned on a desert island. Beth pulled up and Tanya hung out the window, holding up her phone to take a photo, her expression one of horror.
‘Oh, my God! There’s no way we’re going to get you out of that!’ she cried.
‘Watch and learn, city girl,’ Beth said, grinning.
She manoeuvred the Beast past Tom’s car, splattering the two of them with red mud while Willow squealed and Tom shouted in protest.
‘Listen to Beth and Free laughing their arses off,’ Willow muttered to Tom.
‘We’ll get our revenge,’ he promised, hooking his 4WD up to Beth’s towing cable. Willow and Tom slipped back in the cab while the cable tightened and the Beast strained. Finally, with a mighty schlocking noise, their vehicle wrestled its way free of the mud. They cheered from inside the cab. Clear of the riverbed, Tom turned the vehicle around while Tanya, Free and Beth jumped out of the Beast to inspect its wheels and sides. Willow nudged Tom, catching his eye; he smiled, dropping the clutch and hitting the accelerator so the wheels spun and mud flew, splattering the three women. Tanya shrieked so loudly she scared some cockatoos out of a nearby tree, but Beth just wiped mud off her cheeks and slapped the side of the 4WD.
‘Well played, Mr Forrest, well played.’
‘Thanks for the rescue,’ he called innocently.
Free and Tanya shouted dire threats as they clambered back into the Beast, and Willow surreptitiously low-fived Tom. They buckled in, waiting for Beth to lead the way home.
‘And, finally, after quite a wait, we’re unstuck,’ he said, giving her a sideways look.
Willow caught her breath. ‘Tom, you didn’t just turn a bogged vehicle into some kind of metaphorical life lesson, did you?’
He laughed so hard he snorted.
Willow drove Tanya to the airport on Monday morning, genuinely sorry to lose her friend’s company.
‘Come again, when you’ve got spare flying points,’ she said. ‘Bring Bryan, if you like.’
‘Ooh, yes!’ said Tanya, her eyes shining. ‘And when will you next be in Perth?’
‘I’m not sure, but I promise I’ll visit.’
Willow waved her off and called into Beth’s place to check if she had t
ime for coffee but Beth was out and not answering her phone. Probably working. Willow stopped at the post office to clear their mailbox before heading home. There was a quarterly newsletter from a safe-work association among the mail, and Devi popped back into her mind.
Once home, she checked their basic OHS system but found nothing about Devi Lai’s accident. She went through the paper files instead, and still came up empty-handed. Devi’s records must have already been archived. She groaned with frustration. This would mean digging through largely unlabelled boxes stored in a fireproof room in one of the sheds. Willow was starting to doubt she’d find anything at all. Maybe Hegney hadn’t bothered to record any accidents at Patersons, serious or otherwise.
Willow did some bookkeeping instead and looked over the certification plan. She had decided to take Beth’s advice, and hunted for items to slash to slow down the whole transition. She hated seeing any of it go and was filled with resentment when she remembered she was only doing this to pander to two men’s reluctance to change.
Well, one man really: her father. If it weren’t for her father, she doubted Hegney would still be around.
Two hours later, heavy hearted, she’d made half a decision to reintroduce normal feed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the decision was made. It still meant no antibiotics, but she would go back to normal feed made in a conventional production environment. At least they could claim free range, chemical-free beef. It just meant the organic labelling was an even longer way off. It would lower feed costs. She would consider other changes, too; the one change alone was unlikely to make her father back off. But she’d try it and see.
She went by the station kitchen and stuck her head in to see if Jean needed anything.
‘I’m all right, boss!’ Jean said, puffing as she carried a large pot across the kitchen. ‘Enchiladas tonight.’
‘Sounds amazing. I’m going to let Dad start eating in the station kitchen again. I don’t have to worry about him getting a hold of pies and chips any more.’
Jean laughed. ‘I still do chips on Fridays. Baked wedges, anyway. Don’t let him in here on Fridays.’
‘Baked wedges are okay,’ she said. ‘I guess the deep fryer’s not getting much love these days?’