‘So can I?’ Molly was asking again.
‘Can you what?’ Lucy said vaguely.
‘Give this to Quentin?’ The little girl prodded the bowl of mush with her spoon.
‘Quentin would probably prefer fresh Weet-Bix, not your leftovers,’ Lucy remarked, guessing that Quentin was one of the group of fencing contractors. She looked at Mel, who was packing an armada of grubby eskies and crates with provisions, oblivious to the drone of the television and the breakfast clatter.
‘Quentin’d eat a whole box if you let him, eh, Lucy?’ Molly continued. The little girl seemed to have noticed Lucy’s gloomy mood and was doing her best to be cheerful.
Touched, Lucy acknowledged her efforts by smiling and responding brightly. ‘My goodness, would he? I don’t think I’ve met Quentin yet, have I?’
‘True?’ Wade was surprised. ‘Well, you can meet him straight after breakfast. He’s nothing but a black sucker.’
‘Wade!’ Lucy glanced over at Mel. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’
But Wade only shrugged.
Before the dew had evaporated, Dennis, the ringers and the vehicles had gone. After breakfast, Cooper and Billie struggled through an entire creative writing lesson, leaving Lucy far from satisfied with their work. She had wondered before why their aptitude for verbal yarning could not translate to written storytelling. Next Mel stormed in to tell them she was off to Prussia as well; the musterers had accidentally left some of the branding irons behind in the shed. With this interruption, the children lost any vestiges of motivation.
‘We need a break, Lucy!’ Billie whined.
‘It’s smoko time!’ Cooper agreed.
‘Rubbish, it’s only eight thirty,’ Lucy retorted. ‘It’s time for maths now. Once we’ve done that you’ll deserve smoko. If you do a good job you can have the other half of that cake we cooked yesterday.’
The kids made various noises of protest, including the twins, who although they didn’t have to be there were getting into the spirit of it all.
Ignoring them, Lucy went on, ‘Wade and Molly, I’ve set up some money rubbings here for you with these crayons when you’ve had enough of those blocks. Billie and Cooper, start on your tables while I duck to the toilet.’
Lucy washed her hands, then splashed some water on her face in the bathroom, attempting to collect herself and quell some of her own simmering dissatisfaction about being cooped up in a classroom with four cranky kids, while everyone else was out enjoying the wide expanses of the property. Then, noticing the unusual lack of noise coming from the schoolroom, Lucy entertained a slim hope that the silence was an indication of productivity. But when she returned a few moments later it was to an empty room.
She strode out onto the veranda and glared around. Just as she was about to call out, she thought better of it. The little rascals were probably watching her from some hidden outpost and would find her exasperation amusing. She took a few deep breaths and continued to look around.
A small movement beyond the shed caught her eye. A dog’s tail wagging. The slowly swinging russet tail belonged to Shep. He stood gazing upwards at the huge spreading tamarind tree that cast cool green shade on a section of the yards. Lucy strode across the dusty clearing between the buildings and came to stand beside him. She rubbed the top of his head and he gazed into her eyes.
‘You missed out on the muster too, did you?’ Lucy said softly. Then she heard muffled giggling from above, followed by urgent shushing. Looking up, she could just make out part of a largish timber platform high up in the leaves. On first glance there was no ladder or rope, or any other means of ascent. But on closer scrutiny Lucy noticed areas of smooth shiny bark on some of the lower limbs. No doubt they had been polished by the traffic of eager little hands and feet. She was about to issue a stern command for them to climb down when all at once she had a better idea. Rather than setting herself up for failure, she would beat them at their own game.
Returning to the house, she packed a bag with the kids’ maths books, pencil cases, paper and crayons, and added some bananas and cake. Back at the tree, she was greeted with more friendly tail-wagging by Shep. Hooking the bag over her shoulder, she began to pull herself up. Getting started was difficult, but Lucy’s balance was good. She silently thanked her mother for making her persist with gymnastics for so many years. Once she was on the lowest branch it was fairly straightforward. Trying to appear more confident than she felt, and ignoring the urgent whispering from above, she made a surprisingly good job of the climb.
When she finally heaved herself up onto the platform, she was met with four faces wearing expressions of begrudging approval.
‘This is our private cubby, Lucy,’ Billie grumbled. ‘Blast Shep! Even Mum’s never got up here before.’
‘That’s only ’cause she can’t,’ added Cooper.
‘She did try her best once,’ Molly reminded them.
‘But it wasn’t good enough,’ Wade said. ‘She likes having her feet on the ground, old Mum.’
‘Except when she’s with Hoodlum,’ Billie said with a silly little giggle. ‘She’d go anywhere with him.’
Lucy decided against asking about Hoodlum, whoever or whatever he happened to be. Instead she began unloading the bag and setting out the maths lesson for the second time that day, accompanied by a unanimous groan from the kids. But despite their initial reluctance, the lesson was successful. Their green, rustling classroom seemed to be conducive to the sort of clear thinking required for maths, and the twins made some colourful leaf rubbings of which they were exceptionally proud. Afterwards, they all felt much more cheerful as they munched on cake, and Cooper congratulated himself on having the idea of holding school in the tree.
After school, they took Lucy to meet Quentin.
‘Oh! He’s a pig!’ she said as they approached a makeshift enclosure on the far side of the yards. It was set between three vast kurrajong trees and largely hidden from view, which was why she hadn’t noticed it before now. She could make out a stumpy black form rooting around in one corner.
‘’Course he is,’ Wade said. ‘He’s just a sucker. Ted ran him down after he shot the sow last week.’
As they came closer, Lucy was transfixed. She’d never seen a wild pig and didn’t think she’d ever seen an uglier creature. Quentin was black all over and covered with coarse bristly hair. His head appeared to be much too large for his body, his snout long and pointed. He pushed against the mesh to get as far away from them as possible, regarding them suspiciously with tiny eyes.
‘Who on earth named him Quentin?’ asked Lucy.
‘Ted, of course,’ said Wade.
‘He thinks of some cracker names,’ Cooper added. ‘He named Gala and Shunter and Harpy and White Trash and Alpha.’
‘And all his dogs have wacky names too,’ Billie said.
‘Shep’s a nice name,’ Lucy said.
‘Shep’s his dad’s dog,’ Molly explained. ‘That’s why Ted loves him, eh.’
‘Yeah,’ Wade added, ‘’cause Shep’s still alive and Ted’s dad carked it.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Lucy said quietly.
With Mel still absent, Lucy thought she should stay with the children in spite of their assurances that they’d be right by themselves. The older two headed off to do some chores, so Lucy went with the twins to the top hayshed, where they told her they had work to do. With great purpose they each selected a toy digging machine from the line-up along the wall and began to excavate. Lucy marvelled at their wordless telepathy. They worked with their brown curly heads side by side without collision or conflict, rapidly building a miniature dam with what was evidently the precision of much experience. Lucy sat on an upturned drum and watched, noticing nervously the long narrow gaps between the bales, not far from where the children were crouched.
‘There could be snakes in there,’ she warned.
‘Well, there’s one,’ Molly said casually. ‘A big old black-headed python. Dad says he does a bloody good job
cleaning up the rodents in here.’ Seeing the look on Lucy’s face, she added, ‘Don’t worry, he don’t mind us playing.’
‘He won’t?’ Lucy said incredulously. ‘Because we wouldn’t want to upset the python now, would we? Tell me, how deadly is the bite of this snake?’
‘He don’t bite, that fella,’ Wade explained. ‘He squeezes you and jams you up small enough to swallow.’
Lucy felt a little faint.
‘You’d be a bit on the bulky side for him, but,’ he added kindly, his hazel eyes large and earnest. ‘He might have a go at Molly, but he wouldn’t go much bigger than that, I don’t reckon.’
At that moment, the most ancient of the paddock basher vehicles rolled to a stop in front of the shed. Cooper was behind the wheel, with Billie in the passenger seat.
‘You wanna come for a drive?’ Cooper asked.
Lucy jumped to her feet. ‘Get out of that car! You’ll end up killing yourselves. What would your mum say if she saw you playing in a ute?’
‘Playing?’ Billie sneered. ‘We’re going to start the bore pump in Two Moon, like Dad told us to this morning. Windmill’s buggered.’
‘You mean you can drive there by yourselves?’ Lucy asked. ‘Does your mum know?’
‘Too right,’ Cooper declared. ‘There’ll be hell to pay when she gets back if we haven’t done it. Billie can’t drive too good yet. Stalls too much.’
‘Only ’cause I can’t reach the clutch properly!’ Billie protested. ‘I can drive in third gear!’
Lucy shuddered. Feeling obliged to go with them, she started walking towards the vehicle, but without further ado, Cooper laughed and accelerated away.
At last, to Lucy’s great relief, Mel returned, going straight into the house. A short time later, when the two older children had come home safely, they all went inside and found Mel in the office, sitting at the computer doing the accounts. Their appearance and enthusiastic chatter had clearly interrupted her harassed train of thought.
‘Why the hell are they so happy?’ Mel demanded. ‘Must be you, Lucy. No other explanation for it. They’ll be wanting a feed next.’
‘Don’t stop what you’re doing there, Mel,’ Lucy said hurriedly. ‘We’re going to make some popcorn.’
Mel rolled her eyes and shook her head before returning her attention to the figures on the screen, but Lucy thought she detected the hint of a smile.
In consideration of Mel and the accounts, Lucy occupied the children for the rest of the afternoon with an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, which to her surprise even the older children were not too proud to play. The game, which she deemed to be boringly simple, held some sort of novelty value for these bush kids, whose everyday pursuits would no doubt be unfathomable to the average town child. After setting a few necessary boundaries and limitations concerning hiding places, they all had a wonderfully exhausting time and were ready for bed immediately after their baths.
During dinner, Mel had complained bitterly about the office work, and how doing the books for Charlotte’s Creek always involved a thorough search of Dennis’s clothes, wallet and car for tax receipts. She also bemoaned the trials of converting haphazard scribbling of cattle numbers from pocket notebooks into some form of meaningful electronic records. So once the children were in bed, Lucy poked her head around the office door and asked if there was anything she could do to help with the accounts.
‘You can help by keeping your nose out of our business,’ Mel snapped, ‘and sticking to what you know something about.’
Feeling hurt, Lucy turned to go, but Mel spoke again, her tone repentant. ‘I’m just pissed off, that’s all. Dunno why I always get this rotten job. As much as Gwenny hates me, she’s happy enough to let me do the family’s dirty work.’
Lucy, uncertain how to respond, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. ‘I’m sure, underneath it all, Gwen must appreciate everything you do,’ she said at last.
Mel gave a cynical laugh. ‘Those two have no idea how much we do. They had staff coming out their ears when they were running this place. That’s why the business was on its last legs when we took over. First thing Den did was put off the staff, then sell a heap of cattle. The place wasn’t paying its way, and the country was flogged to the ground.’
Lucy listened closely, intrigued to finally hear Mel’s version of events. ‘Surely, in hindsight, Noel and Gwen can see the wisdom of Dennis’s decisions?’ she ventured.
Mel shrugged. ‘We’re in the same boat as a heap of other old farming families. Mum and dad hold the power—land and cattle still belong to them. One son stays on the place because he loves the life and hopes to take over one day. Other kids ping off and make a living some other way—usually a much better-paying job. But mum and dad’s plans for the place are the big secret. Keep everyone guessing, see? Everyone busting themselves to please the olds.’
Lucy nodded slowly, but stayed silent.
Mel, usually so reticent, seemed suddenly in the mood to talk. ‘Only problem is, that kind of suspense takes its toll. The son who chose to stay on the place starts to resent the uncertainty. He also wants to run the show a bit differently from the old man, move with the times, so they clash.’
Lucy nodded again. ‘Yes, I’ve noticed.’
‘Righto, so the kids who took off, who ring mum for a friendly natter once a month, are the angels who can do no wrong. Poor bugger who stayed home is the rude ungrateful bastard who bosses his old man. Dad and mum no longer feel like giving him the place, and the other darlings start making some noise about their share.’ Mel examined Lucy’s face for a reaction.
‘Yes, I see,’ Lucy said slowly, her eyes wide. ‘He’s sacrificed any other career or livelihood to stay, and the place wouldn’t have continued to operate without him. But he’s left with nothing but the prospect of a share in the place he’s worked so hard to create . . . and feeling like a fool.’
Mel gave a wry smile. ‘Now you’re getting it. And then he goes stale. Wonders why he’s slogging his guts out, seven days a week, for the payout the rest of his family are gonna get. He wants some assurance, pushes for it and looks like a greedy b— . . . so-and-so.’
‘That’s awful!’ Lucy said.
‘And old dad, who’s still fit and healthy, thinks his lad is trying to put him out to pasture early, so he arcs up. And so things go pear-shaped. The son loses the drive to improve the place and starts to hate what he used to love. His missus goes sour because she’s seen the writing on the wall since the beginning, and wants the best for her kids. She’s also jack of having a husband who’s always working. So then she digs her heels in, and of course everyone hates her and it’s all her interfering fault.’
‘But this is terrible!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘One huge misunderstanding! How can you make them see?’
‘Only way they’d ever see is if we packed up and left tomorrow—then they’d get the picture. See how precious little Justin would cope, trying to run this place on skeleton staff.’ Mel snorted.
‘Have you ever considered leaving?’ Lucy asked.
Mel laughed. ‘Told Den we should cut our losses and make a break about five years ago now. But he can’t see it. He won’t see it till we’re high and dry.’
‘I never knew families could be like this,’ Lucy observed, more to herself than to Mel.
‘You miss your family, eh?’ Mel asked, her tone subdued now.
Lucy nodded.
‘You’re lucky then,’ Mel remarked, ‘if your family are a mob that you love to be with. On the land, family are usually your business partners. In town, I’m guessing, if you own your own business, you can employ who you like, the right person for the job. Out here, you wind up running your show with whoever you happen to be related to. And it’s a bloody miracle if it works and you all still like each other at the end of the day.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘There must be something we can do about this.’
Mel turned back to the computer, clearly no longer in the mood to talk
.
‘I really wish I could help you, Mel,’ Lucy added as she turned to leave.
Mel, who now looked as though she was heartily regretting having opened up, concluded the conversation sharply. ‘As I said, best thing you can do is mind your own business and stick to what I’m paying you for. G’night.’
Lucy withdrew from the office, her mind whirling. The situation was far more complicated than she’d ever imagined. In spite of Mel’s sharpness, she was touched that the harried woman had trusted her enough to lay out their situation at last. Mel’s explanation clarified the strange undercurrents Lucy had observed since her arrival at Charlotte’s Creek, and the tension between the two generations of adults.
She was on her way out of the house when Molly’s yelled request for a story floated out from the twins’ bedroom. Lucy stopped and went back, huddling with both twins on Molly’s bed to read the book. Wade was asleep before the end, and Lucy carried him over to his bunk. As she was tucking him in, he reached up and encircled her neck with his chubby little arms, pressing his soft lips to her cheek, his eyelashes brushing her skin; then he flopped down again and fell back into a heavy slumber. Lucy’s breath caught in her throat and she tingled all over with a thrill of simultaneous joy and sadness. For the first time she was absolutely certain that she’d come to the right place. She wasn’t sure whether she could help Mel with all her troubles, but at least she could be a source of stability and comfort for the children. Yes, Charlotte’s Creek was where she wanted to be right now.
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