‘You don’t need a hand here?’ Lucy asked, resisting the urge to jump up out of her seat.
Mel snorted. ‘I always need a hand. But I reckon Ted might need you more than I do just now.’
Lucy flushed with embarrassed surprise, and Mel laughed wryly.
‘He’s a miserable sod at the best of times, but since you left . . .’ Mel shook her head. ‘Bloody tragic.’
‘I think I’ll walk,’ Lucy said quickly. ‘It’s such a beautiful afternoon.’ She stood up from the table.
‘Beautiful, you reckon,’ Mel echoed, still shaking her head. ‘You and your bloody walking.’
Lucy bounded down the veranda steps and set off purposefully along the dusty track away from the buildings. Rambo appeared out of nowhere and began hurrying along behind her as though Lucy had never been away. The poplar gums and stringy wattles waved in welcome as she walked, and the warm, moist air moved over her in a slight breeze. It was almost half an hour before the trees thinned out and she rounded the bend in the track. The corner gate into Eastern Weaner was standing open. She went through and followed the fence for a while until she saw two lines of freshly flattened grass where Ted’s ute had left the track and headed across country. She veered off too. Rambo, apparently deciding the uneven ground looked like too much hard work, stopped to graze.
After another fifteen minutes, Lucy saw the red dirt of the cleared fence line at the back of the paddock, the ute and tractor glinting further along. She walked closer, and there, with his back towards her and pliers in hand, was the lean form she knew so well. She stopped for a moment, the late afternoon sun bathing the side of her face, and smiled at the sight. Shep, standing with his ears pricked in the back of the ute, had seen her; with a sharp high bark, and no regard for his arthritic joints, the old kelpie launched himself from the tray. He landed stiffly, but after a few rickety strides was racing towards her. Snoz, who’d been asleep under the vehicle, soon overtook his father. Lucy exclaimed at the size of him, then began rushing over the tufty grass to meet them.
Alerted by Shep’s bark, Ted turned, frowning. He dropped his pliers, and then he covered the ground towards her with great loping strides. Lucy was lifted off her feet in a crushing embrace and swung in a wide, slow-motion circle that sent the dogs scampering backwards in surprise. As Lucy tried to catch her breath, Ted was kissing her face, her neck, her ears, her hair.
‘Oh Ted!’ she gasped. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be happy to see me!’
Lowering her to her feet and placing his heavy hands on her shoulders, he grinned down into her face. Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. How she’d missed his singular smile. She’d tried her best to picture it, those lonely Sydney nights, but the hum of the traffic outside had intruded on her musings, holding her mind prisoner in her urban surroundings, unable to fly north and find Ted’s face in the open air. Now Lucy drank in the sight of his crooked grin, and the innocence of his joy. She never wanted to be away from him again.
‘Ted, I don’t want that squeaky-clean Cameron or anyone else,’ she blurted. ‘I never truly liked a boy till I met you.’
Ted remained silent but shook his head in wonder. He took her hand, and they walked through the dry grass to the ute, in a drenching of rose-coloured evening light.
Lucy’s complete joy was short-lived. At dinner on that first evening, once the children had given her ten solid minutes of babbled and often unintelligible news, there was a short lull. Lucy looked around uneasily, suddenly aware that all was not well; or rather, worse than it had been before. Mel appeared as discontented as always, but there was something different about her unhappiness. Her movements were more lethargic, as though sometime in the preceding months all the fight had gone out of her. Ted, after his ardent greeting, seemed to have brought only his body to the table, leaving his soul somewhere out in the paddock. Lucy tried to catch his eye but it was clear to her that, for the moment at least, she was again forgotten.
However, it was Dennis in whom Lucy saw the greatest alteration. On arriving in the kitchen, his eyes had lit up momentarily at the sight of her. Touched by his obvious pleasure at her return, she hadn’t noticed how unwell he looked. But now she inspected him as he sat chewing slowly and staring into space. She could see no trace of his formerly jovial manner. His eyes were red-rimmed and dull, the dark circles under them giving his handsome face a newly haunted, hollow look, and his hair and whiskers were scruffy and peppered more noticeably with grey. The kids conversed around and past him as though he no longer existed. It seemed to Lucy as though he’d been defeated in some way and had withdrawn into the background.
After dinner, as Lucy dried the dishes, she looked questioningly at Mel. At last, by the fifth plate, Mel met her eye.
‘Dunno why you’d wanna come back here,’ she said. ‘Always knew you were crackers.’ She paused for a moment, then sighed heavily before going on. ‘Truth is, you’re probably wasting your time. We’re finished here. They’re putting the place on the market. Kids’ll be more than likely stuck in some mining town school in a few months.’
‘Oh!’ Lucy cried. ‘Mel, they can’t! Not after everything you’ve done here. The kids will hate town!’
But Mel went on heartlessly, ‘Should’ve done it years ago. Saved us from wasting the best years of our lives.’
‘But Mel—’
‘Used to love this place.’ Mel put her hands on the edge of the sink and looked around. ‘Now I’d like nothing better than to douse the verandas with kero, light her up and drive away.’ Dipping her hands back into the suds, she continued determinedly with the washing-up.
Not knowing what to say, Lucy took the next plate, silent with shared misery.
Surprisingly, the children seemed eager to be back into the school routine. After a couple of days’ work by Lucy, putting things in the shambolic schoolroom back in order, the kids turned up bright and early for their first day of term. Even Billie was seated at her desk with her exercise book out ready before the governess arrived for school on the third morning. Lucy suspected that their willingness to comply in the schoolroom was a form of defiance towards the looming changes they all sensed. The snippets of heated conversation they overheard, and the defeated appearance of their parents, would have been more than enough warning of their impending departure from their home and the only environment they’d ever known. But from the haven of the schoolroom, with its rules, schedules and normality, and with the predictable Lucy presiding, the wider world of Charlotte’s Creek temporarily looked more or less as it had always done. For a few hours of each day they could cease to feel that life as they knew it was under threat.
The first Saturday after Lucy’s return she was summoned to Gwen’s house for morning tea. Seated in the charming north-facing room, Lucy looked around as she sipped from the delicate china teacup. Gwen’s kitchen hadn’t changed a fraction during her absence. Every utensil, item of crockery and ornament was still in its place, meticulously dusted. The sight of it, so ordered, pretty and tranquil, sickened Lucy, so at odds was it with the turmoil that had overtaken the younger branch of the family.
‘You look a little pale, Lucy,’ Gwen observed, her tone full of concern. ‘You’ve been through the mill with all the worry of your mother I suppose.’
‘She’s much better now though,’ Lucy replied, steering the conversation away from herself. ‘Nearly as good as new.’ Then she asked carefully, ‘How have you been, Gwen?’
‘Oh . . .’ Gwen sighed. ‘Things have been a bit uncomfortable for all of us. Has Melissa told you much?’
‘Only that you’ve decided to sell Charlotte’s Creek.’
Gwen nodded. ‘It’s been a tough decision to make, but now that it’s all resolved, Noel and I feel like a weight has been lifted off our shoulders.’
Lucy sipped her tea and waited for Gwen to go on.
The older woman sighed again and looked fondly around her. ‘It will break my heart to leave this place, but we need to look to the futur
e. Selling up is the only way to share what we have equally between our children, and they’ve always come first.’ Gwen looked at Lucy earnestly. ‘Seeing them benefit will be our consolation.’
‘Where will you go, Gwen?’
‘We’re looking at some small acreages near Ingham. Some of them have lovely new houses. It’ll be wonderful to have flyscreens, and I must confess I’m excited about the convenience of being close to town.’
Lucy searched around for the right words, reminding herself of what Beth McCann had told her; there was always two sides. She must try to see the situation through Gwen’s eyes. ‘Has Noel come to terms with it too? I mean, parting with Charlotte’s Creek?’
‘To be honest, dear, I think relief will be his overwhelming emotion. This place has meant nothing but worry for him these last fifteen years.’ Gwen paused before going on in a lower tone. ‘And a great source of conflict between him and Dennis. I pray that they’ll be able to get along again one day in the not too distant future.’
‘I really hope so,’ Lucy said.
‘Family and property.’ Gwen shook her head. ‘It’s always a messy business. A couple of months back I found myself wishing Noel and I didn’t have a cent to our names and wondering if perhaps the kids would have liked each other more had that been the case. But now I’m seeing things more rationally. We can all start enjoying each other’s company again.’ Gwen sat back and smiled, if a little sadly.
‘I hope so,’ Lucy said again.
Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘You sound doubtful. Perhaps you had Melissa in mind? Well, I know where you’re coming from there.’
‘Oh no!’ Lucy protested. ‘It wasn’t only Mel I was thinking of!’
But Gwen continued as though she hadn’t heard. ‘Melissa will find a way to be miserable, no matter what. But they’re about to receive a wonderful payout. Then,’ she said wryly, ‘it will be interesting to see what she does.’ She looked at Lucy, as if inviting her to comment. When she said nothing, the older woman added, ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that their marriage has been far from healthy for some years now.’
Lucy felt suddenly irritated. ‘I don’t think Mel will ever leave Dennis,’ she said with conviction. ‘And I think she might be a lot happier once they leave here.’
‘Oh?’ Gwen looked mildly affronted. ‘Well, you’re more optimistic than I am. I can’t imagine what they’ll do with themselves when they’re no longer under Noel’s wing. But they’re grown adults and it’s not our responsibility to provide for them any longer.’
Although she wasn’t hungry, Lucy took a bite of cake to prevent herself from saying anything else. Arguing with Gwen was futile: her mind was clearly made up.
Gwen took a deep breath and smiled again. ‘And now, enough about us. I want to hear all about you. I must confess I was a little surprised when I heard you’d returned. I was sure you would have been snapped up by some high-flying city slicker by now, a friend of your father’s, perhaps.’
Lucy stared at her cake crumbs uncomfortably. ‘I love it here, Gwen. I don’t feel that I belong in the city anymore. I never really did.’
‘Honestly?’ Gwen was astounded. ‘You truly want to stay in the bush?’
It was a question that Lucy hadn’t ever asked herself, but she answered without hesitation. ‘Yes,’ she nodded firmly, ‘I really think I do.’ Hearing her own words, she suddenly tingled all over with the realisation.
‘But Lucy, this is wonderful!’ Gwen clapped her hands. ‘Oh, wait till I tell Cynthia. There’ll be no problem finding you another position on a property. Or in one of the little bush schools, for that matter. That way you could be more independent.’
But Lucy wasn’t listening. She was sipping her tea, staring off into the distant future.
Chapter 40
The novelty of Lucy’s return soon wore off, and the days in the schoolroom began to roll along much as they had in former times. Lucy settled back into the rhythm, determined, for the sake of the children, to ignore the temporary nature that her job had assumed. But try as she might, she couldn’t help noticing that things around her were grinding to a halt. The buzzing activity of former days was gone. Dennis seemed aimless, sleeping until late each morning, and Mel was clearly marking time. Noel, too, was strangely absent, staying indoors for a large part of each day, or taking off for solo drives without any apparent reason. But as the others ceased to be purposeful, Lucy noticed that Ted drove himself even more relentlessly, continuing to rise at dawn and head off in one direction or another, ute loaded with gear, to check, fix and maintain.
No one discussed the situation, but one evening a few weeks after Lucy’s return, Mel flashed the property guide from the Queensland Country Life in front of her face. There was Charlotte’s Creek, bold and bright, with an aerial photo of the lagoons in all their glory. And all the treasure, toil and history of the place had been condensed into eight short bullet points. Lucy’s eyes stung as she read them.
Seeing her tears, Mel gave a cynical laugh. ‘Dunno why you’d care. Should be glad to be finished with the place, like I am.’
Lucy glanced over at Dennis, who was staring into his cup of coffee. He made no indication that he’d even heard. Mel snatched the newspaper away again and bustled around the kitchen, putting away the leftovers, but her bowed shoulders and lowered head contradicted her indifferent words.
Stock and station agents began to frequent the property with prospective buyers. Apart from Noel, who drove them around, and Gwen, who provided refreshments, everyone else stubbornly refused to notice them.
Each day when she finished school, Lucy went looking for Ted. Sometimes she found him, but he never seemed to seek her out. The affection he’d shown at their reunion appeared to have evaporated, and Lucy almost began to wonder whether she’d dreamed the whole episode. Instead of getting closer to her, he seemed to be once again keen to remain detached. They drove together, rode out together, worked in the dust of the yards together in the late afternoons. But Lucy felt as though she was always on the sideline, standing by, working slide gates in the yard or trailing along on Pagan at the tail of a mob of cattle. She was with Ted but they grew no closer; in fact, it seemed to Lucy that as each day closed, they’d drifted further apart. Lucy admired the way the stoical stockman was persisting with Charlotte’s Creek where the others had ceased to care; she respected his resilience and his grit, but she could not find a place for herself in all of it. Would she always be pushed to the periphery? She became more and more uneasy, and amid the larger troubles of the Wests, she nursed her own private hurt.
One afternoon in March, Ted trudged up the veranda steps of the main house and thudded into the kitchen. Lucy had just sat down for a cup of tea. School had finished for the day, Mel was doing some paperwork at the table, and the kids had scooted outside to ride their bikes through the puddles and mud that the recent rain had made.
Ted looked from Lucy to Mel. ‘Might need a hand. Cow with an abscess on her jaw in Hill.’ Turning towards the door, he added, ‘Had it for a fair while by the looks. She’s standing off on her own, and she’s pretty poor.’
‘Stuff her,’ Mel said, her voice hard. ‘Not our cow, not our problem.’ She looked back down at the page in front of her.
‘Can I help?’ Lucy asked Ted.
‘You’ll do,’ he said, without turning back. ‘Better get some old clothes on, and bring a strong stomach. It’ll stink a fair bit, I’d reckon. I’ll get some penicillin.’
As they drove through the gate into Hill paddock, Lucy wondered how they would be able to treat the cow, out in the open with nothing to restrain her. ‘Do we have to try to herd her back towards the yards?’ she asked.
‘Not sure yet.’ Ted looked sideways at Lucy. ‘She’s a quiet cow, and she hasn’t got a lot of fight left in her. Might be able to do it on the spot with you helping.’
‘Oh.’ Lucy bit her lip nervously.
The cow was standing forlornly in a clump of bitter bark
on the side of a hill. She looked much the worse for wear, with a large swelling on her jaw, her body wasted away to mere grey hide stretched over bone. As Ted drove the ute up the rocky slope towards her, she lifted her head and began to walk away despondently. They followed along behind her for a while until they came out into a clearing where the ground flattened out. Then, unexpectedly, Ted accelerated; bringing the bonnet of the ute up alongside the cow, he swerved suddenly sideways, pushing her with the bull bar. Lucy gasped in horror, but Ted had hit the cow on the perfect angle to knock her off balance. He slammed on the brakes and down she went, falling heavily onto her side.
At the same moment, he opened his door and leapt out. ‘Righto, Lucy!’ he called as he went. Lucy jumped out of the ute to see Ted sitting on the cow’s shoulder, holding tightly to her tail, which was pulled up between her hind legs, effectively immobilising her.
Lucy’s mouth fell open and Ted grinned roguishly, his eyes sparkling. ‘You reckon you can take over here?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’ she said in alarm.
‘You just gotta sit here, like I’m doing, while I fix her mouth.’
‘Will I be strong enough?’ Lucy asked doubtfully.
‘All in the technique. Just keep a good hold on her tail and she can’t go nowhere.’
Moments later, Lucy was astride the heaving cow, gripping its tail just above the wiry brush as Ted had indicated. The rotting smell was overpowering, and Lucy tried to breathe through her mouth. Apparently with no sense of urgency, Ted walked to the ute and prepared a bucket of disinfected water. As he strolled over with his knife in one hand and the bucket in the other, he looked at Lucy’s face.
‘Remind you of anything?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling again. ‘Is she easier to handle than Mel or what?’
Lucy smiled through her anxiety, and waited. The cow began to thrash her head around when Ted touched her, but he soon had a good grip of her jaws; pulling them open, he looked inside. Lucy wondered how he could tolerate the reek as the cow bellowed into his face, but he only nodded grimly.
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