Dear Banjo

by Sasha Wasley

  Wait, what was she doing? Why should she turn her back on the vision?

  If Patersons went down now, it wouldn’t be because she’d ordered organic feed for the cattle at a higher per-ton cost than regular feed. It would be because some unethical arse her father had trusted had betrayed them all.

  Time to put a little faith in the universe. She scrapped the order form and went to the website of Lovin’ Meadows Industries to order organic stockfeed.

  Free crept into the office on Monday morning and placed a coffee at Willow’s elbow.

  ‘Thanks. How did you know I needed one?’

  ‘I didn’t. I just wanted an excuse to interrupt you and find out what’s going on.’

  ‘With the staff? Vern told me this morning. They’re all staying!’ Willow beamed.

  ‘Yes!’ Free flopped into a spare chair. ‘That’s a weight off your mind, I bet. How do you think you’ll go without an assistant manager?’

  ‘I’m going to make Vern my assistant. He’s not very systems literate but —’

  ‘He’s not what?’

  ‘He doesn’t know much about the computer programs we use, but maybe I can get an admin person in to help us with that a couple of times a week.’

  ‘He’s fantastic at hands-on stuff, though. Right?’

  Willow nodded. ‘He’s good with people, too. He can keep things ticking over outside while I manage the admin for now. He seems comfortable with the low-stress handling and organic methods, and he promotes it with the staff. All Hegney ever did was badmouth the methods – and me.’

  Free scowled. ‘Stupid jerk.’ She looked around the office. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Willow was startled. Free had never offered to help with the office work before.

  ‘You could make a start on the sponsorship forms for Devi.’

  ‘Oh, cool. Yes, I can do that!’

  Free rolled herself over to the other computer and flicked it on. A moment later there was a knock at the door and one of the older stockmen, Al, put his head in.

  ‘Sorry, boss. Just wanted to check whether this one belongs in the chemicals store or not. Vern wasn’t sure.’ He showed her a bottle and Willow got up to check the label.

  ‘Yes. See that little symbol there? Anything with that symbol needs to go in the locked storeroom.’

  ‘Bewdy.’

  He left them to it and Free blinked at Willow. ‘Boss?’ she said. ‘Al just called you boss. That’s serious progress, Will.’

  She couldn’t help a grin in response. This had gone so much better than she could have dreamed. They worked all morning and then took Barry outside to eat in the station kitchen. Jean confided loudly as she served lunch that Hegney’s name was mud at the station – and probably beyond.

  ‘I always suspected he’d done wrong by Devi but figured if I said anything, I might be next on the chopping block.’ Jean looked at Willow and Barry apologetically. ‘I never felt too safe in my job, with Hegney around.’

  When work had finished for the day, Willow asked Vern if he would head around to Quintilla that week to speak to Si and his mother. She wanted to tempt Si back in to the Patersons muster crew. Barry came out to listen while she spoke to Vern, and then told her he was going back inside. Willow understood: he was there to advise if she needed him but he would leave her to it, just as he had when she’d first arrived in Mount Clair.

  During that week, Willow worked with Free to submit the paperwork for Devi’s sponsorship and then they settled in to wait for a response from the immigration department. The energy at the station shifted and, for the first time, Willow started to get a sense they might make her dream a reality. Even the long-term stockmen like Nico, Paul and Al were following the rules now Hegney was gone, and the younger ones seemed to embrace the humane handling methods, occasionally making suggestions of their own. She was so busy she hardly noticed Tom’s absence at first, but after almost a fortnight even her father was commenting.

  ‘Where the hell’s young Forrest been hiding?’ he demanded of Willow as they ate dinner.

  Willow wondered the same thing. He’d responded to her messages just after the shit hit the fan with Hegney. He’d seemed pleased and relieved, right along with her, that they’d sorted out the issue. But since then she hadn’t heard a peep from him. She opened a chat with him later in the evening, although his grey dot indicated he was offline.

  Hey. You’ve been quiet! I’ve got loads to bring you up to date with and Dad’s asking for you, too. Can you drop in for a coffee in the next couple of days?

  She answered a few work emails before she noticed his grey chat dot had turned green. He was online again, reading her message. She smiled to herself and waited. And it flicked back to grey.

  Okay. That was a little weird. But maybe he was just busy. She thought back to their last conversation, that painful one in the tray of the 4WD. Was he blanking her? No, he wouldn’t do that now. He’d said they were unstuck. Resolved. But then, she recalled, he’d also said he wanted to take some space. Was that was he was doing now? It seemed to involve ignoring her chat messages and not taking phone calls. An uneasy feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach.

  No point speculating. She would wait for a reply to her question. Hopefully he was just busy.

  But in the morning, Tom had emailed:

  Dear Banjo,

  Sounds like things are going well over at Patersons! I’ve heard a bit of the gossip from Violet, who gets information through Si and Vern. Word is the new boss of Patersons is pretty popular.

  Got your message about coffee. Sounds good but I’m going to raincheck. Like I said to you when we were braving the mud and rocks in the gorges, I think a bit of space would be a good idea. You know, just to get my head around this new way of being friends. It’s a shift for me and I want it to work so I need some time to get my head straight and move on. Make sense? Hope so.

  Don’t worry – this is totally not an offended prima donna move! It is exactly what I say it is. I want our friendship too, and I’m just going to take a little time out to get myself all straightened out. I’m sure it’ll be done in the blink of an eye. I’ll probably be banging your door down for coffee by Friday.

  If you need to bounce anything off me, cattle-wise, go ahead and shoot me an email. If not, see you on the flipside!

  Tom

  Oh. Willow struggled with herself. This was entirely rational. Understandable. A good idea. Tom was such a smart guy – such a good person. So why did it feel so awfully, dreadfully horrible to read this email? He was actively attempting to get over his inappropriate feelings. That was a good thing. But she missed him. She didn’t want to give him space. The moment she had that thought, she realised what a petulant brat she was being. Give the poor guy a break.

  Problem was, the break dragged on a lot longer than she expected it would. After a simple reply to say she understood, she didn’t email him again, even when she wanted to talk cattle. She tried to respect the boundaries he’d put in place. She’d put him through enough.

  But it was so damn slow. She just wanted to hang out with him. Several weeks passed and he was still in hiding. Willow shoved down the feeling of loneliness and tried to focus on running her station.

  An unpleasant distraction surfaced in the form of news from her father’s latest cardio appointment: the doctor wanted to go ahead with the angioplasty and insert stents. Surgery was scheduled for a couple of weeks later, and although the specialist and Beth both reassured Willow it was a simple procedure, she couldn’t help but worry. She caught herself hanging around the house more than usual so she could keep an eye on him, and being strict on his diet again. Barry seemed nervous, too. He was quieter than was customary and when she popped into his bedroom to fetch his reading glasses for him one evening, she found his legal documents file open on his bed. He’d been looking over his will. Willow tried harder than ever to pretend she was confident about his upcoming procedure, talking energetically about the long walks they
would take when it was over.

  Finally, one bright morning, Tom’s 4WD rolled down the driveway. Willow hurried outside to meet him, unable to restrain her joy.

  ‘Hey, stranger!’ she called as he climbed out of the car, balancing a container and a folder full of papers.

  ‘Hi, Banjo.’ He passed her the container. ‘Mum made something she’s calling healthy banana muffins and she sent me to deliver them to Barry. I take no responsibility for exactly how healthy they really are.’ He waved the folder at her. ‘And I’ve been up in the heli with a GroPro, documenting the contours. I’ve printed some stills. Want to see?’

  ‘Hell, yes!’ She wanted to hug him for a moment for being so incredibly awesome, for getting over his feelings and being here to deliver muffins and show her aerial photos, for being the best friend a girl could ever ask for. For being Tom, with those sky-blue eyes – that were a little more serious than usual. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay.

  ‘Got the kettle on?’ he said, and Willow changed her mind about asking, instead leading the way inside to make him a coffee.

  They talked water and pastures and staff. Free got bored after a few minutes and went back to painting. Barry stayed there to eat muffins and talk shop with them. He told Tom about his upcoming heart procedure and, to Willow’s astonishment, advised Tom to take care of his ticker by eating right. Barry’s presence was a good buffer, taking the focus off the unspoken changes between Willow and Tom. When it came time for Tom to leave, she accompanied him to his car.

  ‘Looks cleaner than the last time I saw it,’ she laughed.

  ‘Yeah, I copped a bit of flak from the staff when I brought it home after our adventure.’

  ‘Tanya sent me some photos,’ she said. ‘I’ll forward them on to you. She caught one just while Beth was spraying us with mud. It’s hilarious.’

  ‘Cool.’

  He still looked so serious. She puzzled over it as he climbed in and started the engine.

  ‘I’m really glad you called by,’ she said, and after a moment’s hesitation added, ‘Are we all good now?’

  He gazed at the steering wheel for a few seconds, not meeting her eyes. ‘Not quite yet. Getting there. I’ll try again in another few weeks. See ya, Banjo.’

  And he was gone. What the hell? Another few weeks?

  Instead of going back inside she went over to Tuffie’s yard, collecting a brush from the stables on her way. She ducked through the fence and brushed her pony, great tufts of horsehair falling at her feet and smaller ones flying away on the breeze.

  Tom was having trouble getting past his feelings – was that what he’d meant? He’d tested himself and found he needed more time. Her heart ached. He’d loved her so long, and so loyally, despite her poor treatment of him. It was humbling. That was the only word she could think of to describe how it felt.

  When things were easier between them, she would be the best damn friend he could ever wish for.

  Within a few weeks a notification arrived from the immigration department to tell them they had provisional approval to bring Devi back to Australia. Willow had to decide where Devi would fit into the staff team. There was plenty of work in the kitchen but Jean already had Eddie as her assistant, so Willow decided to take Devi on as Dorm Assistant. Maybe Devi had other aptitudes or skills that would suit her to a different role, but they could work that out after she was settled. Willow shuffled the rosters accordingly.

  Barry went in to hospital for his heart procedure. He stayed in Mount Clair with Beth on Thursday night and they operated Friday morning. Although Patersons was right in the middle of counting, Willow went to Mount Clair Hospital that morning to keep vigil alongside her sisters. Free didn’t cope with the waiting. She alternated between fidgeting and anxiety-snacking.

  ‘Beth,’ she begged more than once, ‘why don’t you speak to the nurse again? It’s taking too long.’

  Beth shook her head. ‘Cut it out, Free. They need to put in two stents so it’ll take about an hour. It’s only been half that.’

  ‘You said it was a quick keyhole thing.’

  ‘It is. One hour is pretty quick, in surgical terms.’

  ‘They know he’s allergic to kiwifruits, don’t they?’

  Beth chuckled. ‘No one’s going to feed Dad kiwifruit during his angioplasty, you nutcase.’ She shot Willow a look that said, See? This is why I don’t upset Free with details.

  Willow grew impatient with Free’s fretting and Beth’s calm superiority, and went for a walk so she could worry about her father on her own. But Beth was right, as usual. He was out of surgery inside an hour, and a short time after that, they were allowed to see him. He was awake enough to say hello and tell Willow she’d better get back to the station to finish the cattle count. Then he settled in for a comfortable snooze, so she took his advice and drove home with Free.

  She worked all afternoon and collapsed on the couch beside Free when the sun went down. Dinner consisted of television snacks, since she was far too exhausted to cook and Free didn’t particularly care about eating a decent meal. Willow still felt edgy about Barry, but Beth had sent them several reassuring messages and it looked like he would be home the next day. Free was messaging friends on her phone, so Willow simply stared unseeingly at the television.

  ‘Hey,’ Free said with a sudden laugh, ‘look at this on Facebook, Will. Tom’s out with a girl.’

  The shock that went through Willow wasn’t at all pleasant. ‘Really? Who is it?’

  Free passed her phone to Willow, who peered at the photo on-screen. She recognised the beer garden at the Mount Clair pub. A bunch of people smiled into someone’s camera phone where they sat at a table, and Tom was sitting among them, also smiling, with an attractive young woman behind him. Her arms were draped loosely around his neck and she grinned from over his shoulder.

  ‘That’s Phoebe from the bank,’ said Free. ‘She’s really nice. I’ve hung out with her a few times, down the pub or at the muster festival.’ She retrieved her phone and looked at the photo critically. ‘They look cute together. Phoebe’s about twenty-five. She used to live in Roeburke. How long have they been dating, do you know?’

  ‘No idea,’ Willow said, and her voice sounded weird to her own ears. She cleared her throat.

  Free scrolled and clicked a few times. ‘Can’t see any other photos of them together. No relationship status updates, either. Maybe it’s brand new, just starting tonight.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘New love! We can watch it all unfold on social media.’

  Willow said goodnight and went to bed, but she didn’t go to sleep. Instead, she updated the Facebook app on her phone so she could look at that photo again. She zoomed in, examining the girl. Phoebe. She was pretty, with gleaming straight hair and bright red lipstick. Very feminine. Had Tom posted that photo, knowing Willow would see it? She checked but he hadn’t. It was posted by someone she didn’t know and Tom was tagged.

  Gah, why did this bug her so much? She scolded herself. She had absolutely no rights over him. She’d actively encouraged him to find a girlfriend. She’d even declared she would be their best friend – his and his wife’s. Willow looked at the pretty Phoebe and all of a sudden couldn’t see it happening. She couldn’t be friends with that girl. She wouldn’t even know how to relate to her. And that girl, Phoebe, with her arms already possessively around Tom – she probably wouldn’t want to be friends with Willow, anyway. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t even want Tom to be friends with Willow any more. Couples got like that, she knew.

  A couple. She zoomed in on Tom’s face, trying to discern his feelings from the superficial photo taken in low light at the pub. He was so cute when he smiled, with that solid jaw and the way his blue eyes crinkled at the edges. He had a smart shirt on for his date, she noticed. In fact, it was the one he’d worn at the awards night, the one that fitted so snugly over his chest muscles. She’d rested her hand on his strong shoulder while they danced and felt the warmth of his skin through that shirt, inhalin
g the delicious scent of his spicy aftershave . . .

  Stop. Get over yourself, Willow. She didn’t know whether to feel more disgusted with herself or frightened by this reaction. She closed Facebook and checked her emails, desperate for a distraction. Nothing new. Tanya’s email from a few weeks back was still sitting there, containing the photos from her visit. She reopened the message and flicked through the photos until she found the one with her and Tom in the 4WD tray, hands up to guard their faces from the mud spatter, laughing and screaming. It was a tad blurry and not particularly flattering but she loved that photo. She giggled softly, remembering the moment.

  Well, she could post photos too, right? It was a free country. She saved the picture and posted it on Facebook, tagging Beth, Free, Tanya and Tom. Don’t worry, we got her back a few minutes later, she captioned it. Then she lay in bed for a while, wondering if that had been a dumb thing to do. Well, yeah, it had been dumb, without a doubt. But how dumb? Would it damage Tom’s chances with Phoebe? As the new girlfriend, Phoebe might not like him having female friends who tagged him in photos and made in-jokes with him. She swore and grabbed her phone to delete it before too many people saw it.

  Too late. Beth, Free, Tanya and Tom had all liked it already, as well as a few other friends, and Tom had even commented: Revenge was oh-so-sweet, with a winky-face. She smiled when she saw that. It helped to know that, for at least a moment on his date, he’d paused in the blossoming of new love to respond to her.

  Barry came home the next day, bragging about how pleased the doctors were with the outcome of his surgery. He was tired with the after-effects of anaesthetic, but Willow couldn’t fault his good spirits. She entrusted the drafting to Vern so she could work in the office and help Free look after their father.

  Overnight, she’d become an avid user of Facebook, stalking Tom’s profile to check if Phoebe was interacting with him. Every time she caught herself doing it she felt sick and almost panicked.