Blackpeak Station

by Holly Ford

  She’d never prayed for anything before. Not even Blackpeak. But dear God — let him be somewhere safe. Let him be all right.

  Her door edged open. ‘Charlie?’ Jen’s voice was low. ‘Are you awake?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She sat up and switched the light on. ‘What’s up?’

  Jen walked in, her laptop open in her hands. She sat on the end of Charlotte’s bed. ‘I’ve found Rob. He’s okay.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes. The tears welled up again. Oh, thank you, Lord, or Fate, or whatever there was … she owed them one. Go on, you can take whatever you want. Nothing else mattered. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Facebook.’ Jen smiled. ‘He just updated his status.’

  ‘You’re friends with Rob?’

  ‘Hey, I’m friends with a lot of people.’

  Smiling, Charlotte shook her head at herself. That was hardly the point right now. ‘So — where is he? Is he safe?’

  ‘He’s in London. Apparently, his phone got stolen yesterday, that’s why it’s been off — and he just got up and saw the news.’

  ‘Does he say when he’s coming home?’

  Jen shook her head.

  ‘Can I see?’ Charlotte reached for the laptop. She wanted to see him so much. Even if it was just a profile picture. A name on the screen.

  ‘Yeah.’ Jen hesitated. ‘The thing is … well … Charlie, he isn’t alone.’

  He wasn’t what? She blinked.

  Jen turned the laptop around. Oh God — there he was. His smile made Charlotte’s heart ache. He’d posted a photo as well. Him laughing in front of Tower Bridge, with a girl under his arm. A beautiful, smiling, blonde girl. Wow. She was hot. They looked good together.

  She clicked through to Rob’s profile. In a relationship.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Jen patted her knee.

  ‘What? No!’ She smiled. ‘That’s not what’s important. He’s okay. That’s what matters. The rest is just …’ Asking too much. Far more than she had any right to.

  Charlotte clicked back to the post again. Rob looked so happy. That was good. He deserved to be happy. Whereas she, on the other hand, deserved — well, exactly this, really, when she stopped and thought about it.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah — yeah, of course.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s great that he’s found someone. She looks really nice.’

  Jen patted her knee again. ‘Shame her eyebrows don’t quite match her hair, though, don’t you think?’

  Charlotte laughed.

  ‘And her teeth aren’t that straight.’

  We-ell …

  Jen grinned. ‘He could definitely do better.’

  Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  Listening to the phone ring, Charlotte sighed. She wished old Hurry-Curry would get an answer-machine. This was the fifth time she’d tried to call him this week. She hung up the phone. Never mind. He must have their muster pencilled in for the end of April, right? Hurry wouldn’t let her down.

  She walked through to the kitchen. Rex was sitting at the table, and she smiled to herself. He was baching this week — well, they all were, really. Kath had gone up to Christchurch with Andrea to get the townhouse sorted out. He had the morning paper unrolled on the table in front of him. Oh good — he must have been down to get the mail.

  ‘I still haven’t managed to get hold of Hurry,’ she told him over her shoulder, as she switched the jug on.

  ‘No, love,’ Rex said softly. ‘You won’t.’

  He sounded a bit odd — she turned round.

  ‘He’s gone.’

  Gone? Gone where? Rex pushed the paper across the table to her. Charlotte looked at it. What trouble had Hurry got himself into this time? Oh, they’d named some more of the people killed in the quake at last … nervously, she glanced down the list. Jesus — no, it couldn’t be. Arnold Timothy Hurrence, aged 73. She looked up at Rex.

  ‘It’s him. It’s Hurry.’ Slowly, Rex shook his head. ‘Jim Clements rang me first thing this morning, asked if I’d seen it yet.’

  ‘But—’ Charlotte sat down. ‘What was he even doing there?’

  ‘Walking down Manchester Street, apparently.’

  ‘But what for?’

  ‘Nobody knows.’ Rex shrugged. ‘Maybe he fancied a day in town.’

  God. And that was it. Gone. Just like that.

  The jug boiled. Numbly, she got up. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Ta, love. That’d be nice.’

  Poor old Hurry. Jeez, seventy-three, eh? He wouldn’t have liked them printing that — quite how old he really was, that was always his big secret. She couldn’t believe he was gone. Not like that. She handed Rex his cup and sat back down. Wow. You just never knew what was coming.

  Rex cleared his throat. ‘You know, there’s something I’ve needed to talk to you about for a while. Me and Kath, we’ve been waiting for the right time.’ He paused, looking at the paper again. ‘This probably isn’t it. But …’

  She nodded. Yeah. Best use what time you had — before it ran out.

  ‘We’ve seen a little place we like. Kath and me. Belongs to an old mate of mine, outside of Waimate. It’s just a few acres, nothing too flash. But it’s easy country. Flat. Good water, good shelter. Kath likes the house. I reckon it’ll run just enough to keep me out of trouble.’

  Charlotte stared at him. Was he saying what she thought he was? No, he couldn’t be.

  Rex sighed. ‘Don’t look at me like that, girl. I’ve got to come off the hill one day.’

  ‘No you don’t!’

  He smiled. ‘Tell that to my knee. And the doctor while you’re at it.’

  God. Rex and Kath couldn’t leave. They just couldn’t. This was their home.

  ‘Besides,’ Rex went on, ‘I’ve been promising Kath her own garden for forty-odd years. It’s about time I made good.’

  Oh! What could she say to that? In fact, what could she say at all? And what was she going to do? ‘But I can’t run this place without you and Kath,’ she blurted, before she could stop herself. ‘Not on my own.’

  Rex laughed. ‘Course you can! You’ll be right, girl. You know as well as I do you’ve got too many hands on the place. And Siri’s looking for work, she’ll help you out in the house if you ask her.’ He nodded. ‘It’s high time Kath and I hung up our boots. Left the hills to the new blood. ’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I don’t want to come off this place in a box. We want to retire while we’ve got some life in us yet. Do some of the things we always said we would. Kath wants to go on a cruise.’

  ‘But …’ But — everything. ‘It won’t be the same.’

  Reaching over, he patted her hand. ‘Nothing ever is, love.’

  She glanced down at the newspaper headlines again. So it seemed. Charlotte tried to smile. ‘So … when will you go?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you. But the end of autumn, we thought.’ Rex sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘This’ll be my last muster.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Jen after dinner that night, when Rex had gone home and Charlotte had broken the news. ‘Jeez. You think he’ll really go?’

  ‘He said he didn’t want to be carried out of here in a box.’

  ‘Could have fooled me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So, have you thought what you’ll do?’ Jen tucked her feet up in her chair. ‘Will you replace him?’

  Yeah — that was the question she’d been thinking about all day. And the thing was, Rex was right. Just as Rob had been, two years ago. When she looked at it coldly — when the ‘hand’ in question wasn’t Rex — Blackpeak was overstaffed. Nobody had head shepherds these days, just stock managers, and — well, that was what the Sammartinos were paying her for. What Rex really did for the station … that, she could never replace. But she could do without just any old hand.

  ‘Kind of,’ she told Jen. ‘I was hoping, um — you might step in. Help take up some of the slack. You, me and Matt, we’re a pretty strong team. I think we can handle things
between us. What do you think?’ She waited anxiously. ‘We’d pay you more, of course.’

  ‘Well, in that case …’ Jen grinned. ‘Of course I’ll help out, any way I can, you idiot. With or without a pay rise.’

  Charlotte let out her breath. Thank God for that.

  ‘One condition, though.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You do have to get another Kath.’

  God, yes — the place would fall to pieces inside a week. Charlotte smiled. ‘But is there such a thing?’

  ‘Fair point.’ Jen sighed. ‘Boy, it’s going to be weird around here.’ She eyed Charlotte sharply. ‘But you will get someone, won’t you? Promise me? There’s no way we can get through a winter on your cooking.’

  The next morning, Charlotte drove down to the cottage and knocked on the door.

  ‘Charlie? Come in! Want a coffee?’

  Siri seemed pleased — almost embarrassingly so — to find her on the doorstep. Charlotte had hardly seen her since she and Matt got back. She felt a lurch of guilt. Jeez, what did Siri do down here by herself all day? The poor girl was probably bored out of her tree. Well, she was about to fix that.

  Charlotte stepped into the kitchen. She hadn’t been in the cottage since Jen moved out — it looked a bit different now, with Matt and Siri’s things inside. Not that they had a lot. The place was pretty spartan. Spotlessly clean, though — that seemed a good start.

  ‘Sit down.’ Siri spooned coffee into a little plunger pot.

  Charlotte looked around. She should really find them some more stuff. She must have some up at the house.

  ‘Matt’s up at the woolshed.’

  Charlotte nodded. She knew. She’d asked him to fix the wool press.

  ‘So.’ Siri smiled. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about something. A job.’

  ‘Yes?’ The decrepit jug boiled. Siri filled the coffee pot.

  ‘Rex and Kath are retiring.’

  ‘No!’ Siri turned to face her. ‘They’re never! Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she smiled. ‘Hard to believe, huh? They’ve bought themselves a place down country.’

  ‘Wow.’ Siri shook her head. ‘I didn’t think I’d see this day.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Charlotte watched her press the plunger down and set the pot on the table. ‘The thing is, we need someone to take over from Kath up at the house. I wondered if you might be interested.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie.’ Siri’s face fell. ‘My God. Matt still hasn’t talked to you, has he?’

  God, what now?

  ‘He said he would tell you last week, but … well, I guess I’d better do it now, hadn’t I?’

  Yes, she had — and quickly, too.

  ‘Matt and I are going travelling this winter.’

  Again? Nice of Matt to have asked. ‘Right — um, how long for?’

  ‘We don’t really know — a year, maybe? Maybe two? We’re going to start with a few months in South America and then we’ll see how it goes.’

  Christ. A year? ‘So …’ Charlotte stumbled. ‘Matt’s …’

  ‘Resigning.’ Siri looked excited. ‘Yes. At the end of May.’

  Oh, bloody hell.

  ‘Do you want some milk in your coffee?’

  ‘So much for the team, huh?’ Jen hung the tractor keys up. ‘So now what?’

  Charlotte leaned on the post of the bay shed. ‘You know anybody who might be looking for work this winter?’

  Jen shook her head. ‘Nope, not that I can think of.’

  ‘Then I guess we advertise. Wanted, one general shepherd, one Kath.’

  ‘In the paper?’ Jen pulled a face. ‘You’ll get a whole lot of nutters from town.’

  True enough. On the other hand … she grinned at Jen as they walked out of the shed. ‘Yeah, just look what I got last time.’

  They looked up as the top-dressing plane roared overhead, heading home after its last run. Charlotte waved. Moss dipped his wings in farewell and began the climb out of the valley. She watched until the little yellow plane disappeared over the Rosalie Range and the early evening silence returned.

  At least the hills were still there. Charlotte sighed. She had some job descriptions to write. And she’d better go iron her dress. It was Hurry’s funeral tomorrow.

  ‘You okay?’ Jen paused, her hand on the door of her ute.

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’ She sniffed. ‘Just promise me you’re not going to go anywhere, okay?’

  ‘Nope, you’re not getting rid of me.’ Jen smiled. ‘I promise.’

  Chapter TWENTY-THREE

  Smoothing the pewter satin over her hips, Charlotte checked out her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Wow. Fratelli Sammartino had really outdone itself this time. God, what must the actual wedding dress be like?

  ‘It’s stunning,’ she told Flavia.

  Unsurprisingly, her bridesmaid’s dress fit like a glove. A very slinky, heavy, expensive glove. Behind her, Flavia finished adjusting the bow of the halter neck and, moving down to the second set of spaghetti ties, pulled the satin tighter over Charlotte’s breasts. ‘There. Perfetto. You are stunning, cara.’

  ‘Of course,’ she went on, surveying her handiwork, ‘you cannot wear one of these.’ In the centre of Charlotte’s back, Flavia’s fingers tapped the all-too-visible bra.

  Well, obviously.

  ‘Or those.’ Flavia’s brow furrowed at the ugly line Charlotte’s knickers were making across the satin’s exquisite fall. ‘They must go.’

  Charlotte blinked. Surely Flavia wasn’t suggesting … what, go commando? At her brother’s wedding?

  ‘Do not panic, cara. I come prepared.’ Pulling a carrier bag from her luggage, she held up a scrap of gauze.

  Yikes. That wasn’t going to do very much. Taking it dubiously, Charlotte turned it around. Did it even count as underwear?

  ‘Now,’ sighed Flavia happily, taking out Charlotte’s ponytail. ‘What shall we ask Luciano to do with your hair? Have you thought?’

  Charlotte hadn’t. All in all, it had been pretty difficult to hold a thought since Flavia had arrived. And it was about to get so much worse — this afternoon, the rest of the Sammartino clan was flying in. Aside from Flavia’s parents, there were, as far as she could recall, three uncles, two aunts, six cousins and a grandmother on their way. Oh yes — and Luciano …

  Blackpeak’s accommodation crisis had been solved by Flavia’s father, who’d made a few calls, and that morning, a fleet of six luxury trailers had rolled in from a film industry contact in Queenstown, tiptoeing through the ford to be directed by Nick — airport style — into an impromptu camp on the river flats. Charlotte, helping to hook the generators up, had taken a look inside and felt sorry for Flavia’s parents, who were sleeping at the homestead. The shearers’ quarters were left to a few of Nick’s uni mates, who were due tomorrow. For the rest of their guests — those not helicoptering in for the day — the Sammartinos had booked out the hotel in town and were laying on buses.

  Flavia stopped playing with Charlotte’s hair and dropped her hands to Charlotte’s shoulders. ‘Oh, cara.’ She rolled her lovely eyes. ‘I am so nervous!’

  ‘Everything will be amazing,’ Charlotte told her firmly. She just hoped to God it didn’t snow. And the ford stayed down. She cocked her head, listening to the growing noise outside, and smiled at Flavia. ‘Sounds like they’re here.’

  Flavia grimaced and took a deep breath. Slipping carefully out of her dress, Charlotte pulled her jeans and shirt back on. ‘Come on, let’s go and get them.’

  It took three helicopters to deliver the Sammartino party to the homestead. She’d forgotten about Flavia’s two best friends, the wedding stylist and the cousins’ children. Andrea and Kath had afternoon tea waiting for everyone, and pretty soon, the champagne corks were flying.

  En masse, Flavia’s family and friends were charming, depressingly gorgeous, impeccably tailored, and loud. Hard as they tried to re
member to use their excellent English, they couldn’t quite manage to do so amongst themselves, and Nick — who spoke fluent Italian, it seemed — didn’t help when he turned up. At five o’clock, Charlotte, exhausted and double-kissed out, slipped away and left them to it.

  Slinking down to the cottage, she found Matt and Siri having a few beers with Jen, who’d been ousted to their spare room.

  ‘How’s it going?’ grinned Jen.

  Charlotte exhaled a long breath. ‘Fast and furious. They’re really nice, though.’

  ‘Have they been down to the river yet?’ Siri asked.

  Accepting a cold one from Matt, Charlotte shook her head.

  ‘You should see it now.’ Siri’s eyes glowed. ‘It’s amazing, what Nick’s done.’

  ‘What we’ve done,’ corrected Matt. ‘It ended up taking all bloody afternoon. I only went down to lend him my toolbox.’

  Wow. Charlotte gazed around the river flat. It really was amazing. It was dusk now, the valley in shadow, the mountains gleaming above, and around each trailer, white fairy lights hung from the willow trees. There were little tables with candles glowing in tall glass hurricane lamps, and in the centre, a big willow-wood fire was flickering. There were even a couple of sofas — where had he nicked those from? — and a series of benches made out of willow poles tied together, and blankets and — ah! So that was where all Siri’s cushions had gone. The whole thing looked like a cross between a very good Scout camp and a Hollywood film. Oh bugger, she wished he’d asked before he mowed the grass, though. This was her best paddock.

  Flavia dabbed quietly at her eyes. Her father was less discreet. ‘Mio figlio!’ The tears poured down his handsome cheeks. ‘My son, you did all this for us?’ He threw his arms around Nick. ‘It is — I have no words — it is wonderful! It is perfect!’