Blackpeak Station

by Holly Ford

  ‘Is that going to work for you?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘I know what I probably should do.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Leave.’

  ‘No!’ Charlotte was horrified. ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘I need to get over this. I’m not sure I can do that if I stay here.’

  ‘You could try.’

  ‘Yes, I could try.’ Jen sighed again. ‘Shit. Why is it that knowing you should do something doesn’t make it any easier to do it?’ She picked at her sleeve. ‘I love working here.’

  ‘Then stay! Move back into the homestead with me — it’ll be like old times.’

  Jen raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.’

  ‘I am,’ said Charlotte firmly. ‘I miss you being there. And besides’ — she looked around — ‘this place is a dump.’

  Jen smiled. ‘It has lost a bit of its charm.’ She got up. ‘Fancy another drink? I’ll open a new bottle.’

  As she walked back from the kitchen, a gust of wind shook the cottage. They looked at each other. Crap. Charlotte checked her watch. Fourteen hours early — the front had obviously picked up speed. Rain slammed against the roof.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘I’d better go open some gates, just in case.’ They should have a few hours yet before the river rose, but if the gates were open the ewes would make their own way up if there was any trouble.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Jen volunteered. ‘It’s not like I’ve done anything useful today.’

  ‘It’s okay. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at things myself.’

  ‘I’ll come for a ride.’

  The ewes and lambs in danger were west of the river — the homestead side — opposite the main road and the cattleyards, near the entrance to the station. Chucking on their wet-weather gear, Charlotte and Jen set off down Blackpeak’s five kilometre drive, windscreen wipers struggling on full, peering into the rain.

  As they swung into the top gateway of the river block, they saw some of the mature ewes already waiting there, their lambs dozing on the ground below the relative shelter of their mothers’ bellies. Charlotte smiled to herself. If you wanted to know what mountain weather was really going to do, ask an old merino.

  Jen leapt out and fastened the gate back, water streaming off the brim of her hood. Charlotte changed into low ratio and chugged into the paddock. Behind her, in the red glow of the tail lights, she could just make out the ewes filing out through the gate to higher ground. Jen got back in, and slowly, mindful of sleeping stock, they headed across the block to the opposite gate. Less river-savvy sheep stumbled up and out of the Hilux’s path, their eyes glinting green in the headlights.

  ‘Let’s check the river,’ Charlotte yelled over the rain, nosing the truck down the line of the fence towards the willows. She pulled up at the top of the stopbank. But in the light of their torches, the river was still running placidly down its usual course, low and clear. Charlotte listened. She could barely make out the sound of its flow at all above the downpour. They climbed back into the truck, water cascading off their coats and onto the floor of the cab.

  After circling the block, they drove down to close the main station gates, just in case any escaping sheep should turn the wrong way and make their way onto the road. Charlotte stopped again to inspect the ford before going in. It was safe, but the level was definitely up — six inches, maybe, Jen reckoned, leaning out of the window to peer at the wheels as they reached midstream, above where it had been when she came through on her way home.

  The rain wasn’t letting up. Charlotte dropped Jen back at the cottage and made her way home. It wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that her thoughts strayed briefly from rivers and rain and stock and feed, and she began to replay the evening’s conversation in her mind. She paused, toothbrush in hand. Had she done the right thing? Was it selfish to ask Jen to stay? Yes, her reflection told her.

  Climbing into bed, she thought of Jen doing the same, lying there in an empty house. Alone and lonely. Just the thought of feeling like that made her want to call Rob. She glanced at the clock — it was nearly midnight. Six hours until dawn, at which point they’d have to get back out and muster the river block in earnest. Charlotte pulled the duvet up and drifted off to the roar of the rain.

  When her alarm went off the next morning, the rain was still teeming onto the roof, but the roar had a deeper note. She listened. The river was up.

  By the time she and Jen got back down to the flat, last night’s placid stream was gouging hungrily at the top of the stopbank, a surging mass of brown water in which huge trunks of fallen willow tumbled and bobbed like matchsticks. As they watched, it breached the lower bank to the east and spilled out over the narrow flat to lap at the main road.

  On their side of the river, the remaining sheep were still in little danger of getting more than their feet wet. The dogs worked them along the top fenceline, where they’d assembled miserably, and through the open gate onto the spurs that rose above the river to the north. It was tussock country and recently cattle-grazed, but it would do for a day or two until the river came back down.

  When they’d finished rounding up the ewes that had headed up the drive and set them back with the rest of the flock, Charlotte and Jen went down to take a look at the ford. Even Charlotte was impressed.

  ‘Well, I guess the gates are staying shut.’

  ‘Looks like we’ll be on our own for a while,’ agreed Jen.

  Where there had been a bend in the river, the burst stopbank upstream now offered a more direct course, and a new channel was pouring straight over the eastern flat, through the cattleyards and down into the ford, where it rejoined its old course in a spectacular bow wave.

  There was a resounding crunch as a floating willow was tossed through the yards. In a few seconds more, a mass of splintered timber crested the wave and disappeared downstream.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Jen.

  Charlotte swore. She watched the remains of the yards sweep by and sighed. It paid to be philosophical — on the grand scale of things, this wasn’t a huge disaster. Insurance would pay. But it was going to make getting the surplus cattle away to the sales a little tricky.

  Rob arrived ten days later, the old truck dripping and a huge smile on his face. Pulling up outside the homestead, he popped the bonnet and peered in.

  ‘Checking for trout,’ he grinned, turning round as Charlotte wandered out. ‘Your ford’s seen better days.’

  Charlotte slid her hands up around his neck and into his wavy gold hair. Seeing him there, his blue eyes laughing down at her, made her realise just how much she’d missed him. It had been over two weeks.

  ‘So, what do you want to do this afternoon?’

  ‘Come on.’ He swept her up over his shoulder. ‘I’ll show you.’

  ‘We can’t!’ Giggling, Charlotte pounded on his back. ‘Kath and Jen are here. Put me down.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to.’

  ‘No, seriously …’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes,’ she ordered, realising, with a pang, that Jen was probably watching all this through the kitchen window.

  Rob put her down without letting go, one hand behind her shoulder blades, the other pressing her hips against his. ‘Hmmm,’ he said, his eyes moving over her body, ‘so what am I going to do with you, then?’

  ‘How about,’ she said slowly, fighting the urge to give in there and then, ‘we get out of here for a bit. Just the two of us. I thought we could go for a ride.’

  Rob raised his eyebrows.

  Charlotte shook her head and pushed him away. ‘Go drop off your bag and say hi to Kath and Jen. I’ll get the horses.’

  They took the track up to the tarn on Black Peak, the sure-footed station hacks needing little guidance. It was a lovely spring day, with a clear blue sky arching overhead and a gentle breeze barely ruffling the tussock. They rode close together, the warming sun on their backs a
nd the hills rising all around them.

  ‘I got an email from Nick today,’ Charlotte told him. She giggled. ‘With an employment contract. Fratelli Sammartino drew it up and sent it over.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Rob smiled. ‘How long do they want you to sign up for?’

  ‘Five years.’

  He whistled. ‘Wow.’

  ‘What? That’s good, isn’t it?’ She sighed happily. ‘They have to give me a year’s notice.’

  Reaching the top of the ridge, they reined in. Below, the tarn sparkled sapphire and black. The sun was hot enough now for the icy water to look inviting.

  ‘Race you!’ called Charlotte, suddenly kicking Archie down the slope. ‘I won,’ she added, breathless, a few seconds later.

  ‘Only because you cheated,’ Rob laughed.

  ‘Run-holder’s privilege.’ She swung down into the grass. ‘I would’ve won anyway.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Come here and say that.’ He pulled her close. ‘You’re sweaty,’ he said, stroking the nape of her neck. ‘Let’s get you out of those clothes.’

  ‘This,’ said Charlotte much later, water from the tarn drying on her skin as she lay stretched in the sun, ‘is perfect.’ She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Rob. ‘A perfect day.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He ran a finger over the line of her shoulder, following a droplet of water as it made its way down to her hip. ‘It is.’

  He rolled over. Getting up, he pulled on his jeans and walked down to the tarn. Charlotte watched him stand at the edge, the snow-covered mountains rising behind him, muscles rippling in his back as he reached up, stretching his shoulders and running his hands through his wet hair. She smiled. That was Flavia’s cover shot right there.

  After a few seconds, he turned and came back, sitting down on the rug beside her. She stroked his thigh.

  ‘I’ve been offered a job in Christchurch,’ he said.

  Charlotte removed her hand. ‘What?’ She reached for her shirt.

  ‘With one of the big firms.’

  She stared at him. Rob kept his eyes on the horizon. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Are you going to take it?’

  ‘It’s a great opportunity.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s where I’ve always seen myself going, I guess. You know, the next step.’

  Charlotte was silent. She’d never thought about there being a next step. ‘But—’ She hesitated.

  ‘But what?’ The blue eyes looked down at her.

  ‘I thought you liked it here,’ she finished, in a small voice.

  ‘I do.’ He looked away again.

  She hugged her knees. The world seemed to be tilting.

  ‘Ask me to stay,’ he said suddenly, ‘and I will.’

  Charlotte’s breath caught. But how could she do that? If this was his big opportunity, the chance he’d been waiting for, she couldn’t ask him to turn it down. She couldn’t ask Rob to give up his dreams for her. It would be like someone asking her to leave Blackpeak. She could feel the tears rising in her throat, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see them. ‘You should take it,’ she managed, ‘if it’s what you want.’

  His voice, when it came, was very soft. ‘I thought you’d say that.’

  She stifled a sob.

  ‘Hey.’ He stroked her back. ‘Don’t be sad. It’s not like we could go on like this forever.’

  ‘Why couldn’t we?’ She turned back to face him.

  ‘Seeing each other two nights a week — weather permitting?’ He smiled. ‘I think I might be over fording rivers by the time I’m sixty.’

  Sixty? God. ‘Do we really have to think that far ahead?’

  ‘How long then, Charlie? A year? Five? Will saying goodbye be easier then?’

  Charlotte didn’t think it could get much harder. But what was she supposed to say? She couldn’t argue with his logic. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  He stroked her cheek. ‘You’ll survive.’ His thumb brushed her lower lip, and lingered there. ‘We’d better get back,’ he said abruptly, dropping his hand and getting to his feet. ‘Before they send search and rescue out looking for us again.’

  They rode back to the homestead in silence.

  ‘Are you staying tonight?’ Charlotte asked when they’d finished unsaddling the horses.

  ‘Of course.’ Rob turned to her in surprise. ‘Well, I thought I was. Unless you don’t want me to?’

  She hesitated. She wasn’t sure she did. It was too sad. But then, Rob going was even sadder. And if he left now, she’d have to explain it to Jen and Kath — she didn’t think she could do that yet. ‘No,’ she said at last, ‘it’d be silly to drive back now.’

  Rob raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay.’ He studied her face. ‘You know, I’m not going anywhere for a month or so yet. I kind of thought we’d still see each other until then.’

  She pulled herself together. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

  ‘That’s six more nights,’ he added wryly.

  Charlotte tried to summon a smile. Failing, she turned away. Six more nights. Then it would be … Oh, God. Then it would be over. The weight of it almost made her crumple at the knees. A ton of bricks coming down. The rug pulled out from under her feet. All at the same time. She could feel Rob behind her, only a step away. Those arms she knew so well. Being in them now was the only thing in the world that could make her feel better. She tried to breathe. Oh, it was no use — if she stayed here, she was going to lose it completely. She made a barely controlled dash for the door.

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘I’m just going to check on the dogs.’ Amazingly, it came out sounding almost normal. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

  Without waiting for a reply, she strode out for the kennels, the familiar stretch of grass and gravel blurring around her. Behind the bay shed, out of sight of the stables, she leaned back against the iron wall and, pressing her hands to her face, slid slowly down to her heels. The tears trickled down her palms. Rob was right, of course. What had she thought could come of all this, in the end? Everything he’d said made perfect sense. Why the hell did it hurt this much, then?

  ‘You idiot!’ said Jen, after Rob had driven away on Sunday night and Charlotte had filled her in. ‘Why didn’t you ask him to stay?’

  ‘Because this is the job he’s always wanted,’ said Charlotte, startled. ‘I’m not going to stand in his way.’

  ‘Did he actually say that?’

  ‘Yes.’ She cast her mind back. ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Jesus, Charlie! People don’t say ask me to stay if they don’t want to!’

  ‘Stay for what — two nights a week? He’s right, isn’t he? Our relationship doesn’t exactly have much of a future.’

  ‘So that’s it, you’re just going to give up?’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘I don’t see there’s anything else I can do.’

  ‘You could’ — Jen spoke slowly, as if to a small child — ‘try compromising.’

  ‘How? He’s there, I’m here — it’s not like there’s anything in between. He can’t give up his job.’ She paused, horrified. ‘Are you saying you think I should move to Tekapo? Or Christchurch? What would I even do there?’ The very thought of it — five hundred square metres, a six-foot boundary fence — made her feel claustrophobic. And besides — what about Nick, and the Sammartinos? She’d given them her word.

  ‘I’m saying,’ snapped Jen, ‘that if somebody cared about me half as much as that guy cares about you, I’d move to Iraq for her, if that’s what it took.’

  ‘Hey!’ Charlotte was stung. ‘I care about you.’

  ‘Oh grow up, Charlie.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she defended herself. ‘Rob didn’t ask me to go.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Jen sighed. ‘He knows you too well for that.’

  Charlotte swallowed. ‘I thought you’d understand.’

  ‘I do.’ Jen picked up their coffee mugs. ‘Better than you, maybe.’ She put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder as she passed. ‘That’s what m
akes me so cross.’

  Chapter TEN

  The sun was already heating up, though it was still early morning. Charlotte took off her oilskin and, stowing it behind her on the saddle, lifted her shirt collar. Up ahead of her was a sea of swaying backs, shaggy brown and white, eighty heifers making their slow way along the main road. The rich, grass-sweet scent of them filled her nostrils. There was the odd bellow from a straggler, paused to snatch a mouthful of grass from the verge, as the dogs dived in to move it on. Otherwise, the cattle’s hooves on the tarmac and their heavy, snuffly breathing were the only sounds in the still air.

  Jen rode beside her, but they spoke little, keeping an ear out for approaching vehicles, each engrossed in her own thoughts. They’d started as soon as it was light, hoping to get the herd through the pass, with its tight, blind corners, and onto Glencairn before any other traffic came along. Now, three hours later, they were almost clear.

  Charlotte had been so relieved when Carr Fergusson rang to offer the use of his cattleyards to get their stock away. These two-year-olds were fat and ready to go — she didn’t want to hold them over while she rebuilt Blackpeak’s yards. She and Nick needed all the cash they could get until the Sammartino deal came through.

  She fought hard to keep her mind on that, and the road. Not the miserable, sleepless Saturday night she’d spent with her back to Rob, trying not to cry, or the even greater misery of watching him drive away on Sunday. She couldn’t afford to moon around like a lovelorn teenager. And she certainly couldn’t afford to feel this tired and flat. She had a job to do. A station to run and a stud to build. Nick was counting on her. She had to pull herself together.

  Her life had been perfectly fine before she met Rob, and it would be again. Hey, it wasn’t as if they saw that much of each other anyway. So what if he was planning a future that didn’t include her? She’d never thought further ahead than his next visit. She hadn’t been looking for a relationship before he came along — not particularly. For God’s sake, she was only twenty-one. Who knew what was around the next corner?