At that precise moment, the two-way crackled into life and startled them both.
‘Jean, Izzy, I have a fire in the header! Get help, quick,’ came the anxious voice of Bill.
‘Shit.’ Izzy jumped up and ran to the back door, shouting orders. ‘Mum, call the neighbours. I’ll get to the firefighter unit.’ She yanked at the flywire door, flinging it open, and was out past the gate before it had even slammed shut.
Jean leapt to the two-way on the wall, quickly flicking to Brian Timmins on channel six. Her hand was shaking as she clutched her chest. ‘Be careful, Izzy!’ she shouted after her daughter.
Izzy sprinted to her ute. ‘No, Tom. You stay here,’ she yelled sternly at her faithful companion, before climbing in. Gunning the ute to life, she sped off towards the paddock that her dad had been harvesting. Black smoke billowed into the sky, marking the spot.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ slipped out of Izzy’s mouth. Flicking the steering wheel, she slid the ute quickly around the corner, spraying dust and gravel out the back, before straightening up. Izzy knew her mum would be trying her best to get as much help as possible. All she had to worry about was getting there fast before anything awful could happen. She hoped it wasn’t bad. But the smoke was thick, and it was making her nervous. ‘Come on, Dad. Hang in there.’
Judging by the rich blackness of the smoke, it was definitely the header burning. Thank God there was no wind today. A decent wind-driven fire could easily spread out of control for many kilometres, destroying livestock and homes in the process. Hopefully they’d be able to get this one under control quickly, without losing too much crop.
Swerving around a gate and onto the edge of the paddock, she jumped on the brakes and skidded to a halt alongside the old yellow Landy. Without a moment’s hesitation she jumped straight in, praying the old girl would start right away. Bouncing up and down, she pumped frantically at the throttle, shouting words of encouragement to the ute, offering promises of new oil and a thorough cleaning. It fired with a bang and a splutter, and groaned when she planted her foot, forcing it into motion and causing a haze of smoke to pour out from the rattly exhaust. She caught a glimpse of the green header through the haze.
Shit. Where was Dad? Maybe he was just to the side, throwing sand or thrashing at the fire with his shirt, she hoped.
Barely able to hold the steering wheel straight, Izzy clamped her jaw shut so she wouldn’t bite her tongue. The whole ute was bouncing around like a jackhammer over the ruts in the paddock. Seconds ticked by, but they felt like minutes. Moving back and forth in her seat, she willed the ute to go faster, just another ten metres. Izzy got as close to the header fireball as she thought safe before she jammed on the brakes. She didn’t want to get caught up in the flames. In one swift movement, she was out, almost before the ute had stopped, and yanked the old Honda pump into life. With a flick of the lever, the fire hose spurted out like a burst water main.
Izzy ran towards the fire, dragging the long hose behind her. Her ankles twisted and strained as she ran over the ruts in the paddock, her boots kicking their way through the stubble and sandy soil.
The heat and smoke from the fire was so intense that she could only get within a few metres, as the flames reached out trying to lick at her moist skin. Sweat ran down her brow and her back. The smoke made her cough and her eyes water. Oh, what had Dad got himself into? The fire raged. Sucking at the green paint on the header, it circled up as it tried to swallow it completely, like a snake with its prey.
At last Izzy spotted Bill among the flames at the door of the cab. Fire was all around, pinning him in as he fought the blaze with a tiny red fire-extinguisher that dribbled out the last of its white foam.
Aiming the hose, she tried to douse him and his burning pants. His eyes shut and his face relaxed momentarily as the water reached his legs. The drenching didn’t take long to put out his trousers. Next, she tried to clear a path down the steps for him to escape the inferno. She watched closely as her dad threw the now empty fire-extinguisher aside and turned to climb cautiously down the narrow steps of the header.
On the other side of the paddock, Will’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel of their water truck. He was driving way too fast in the old girl and was feeling every bump as his knees smacked into the hard underside of the dash. He wondered how his dad was going bouncing around on the back. He closed his eyes for a split second in a silent prayer. He hoped to God that it wasn’t bad. Fires in summer were dreadful, but a header fire during harvest was the pits. Last year Roger Smith lost his whole paddock and some native reserve. Luckily he’d walked away injury-free, but he’d lost a whole lot of money in less than ten minutes.
Will could see the black smoke as he closed in, and his guts churned with fear and adrenaline. His dad was ready to start the pump the moment they got close enough. As the minutes dragged on, he worried about Bill. The man was more than just his neighbour. Over the last couple of years they’d built a close friendship, understanding each other’s struggles. Bill had blamed himself for Claire’s death. He believed she shouldn’t have been working on the farm in the first place. After her death he had lost interest in the property, and his passion for his land had begun to die. Then Will started working on Gumlea to help get it back into shape. At first he’d done it to spend time away from his parents, who didn’t understand what he was going through. They let him come and go without question, sensing he needed his space. And for that he was grateful. Little by little Will formed a bond with Bill, and his persistence paid off as Bill started to open up and the two men became close. They both shared the loss of Claire, understood each other’s pain and found it comforting just knowing the other was there. Together they’d helped each other without really knowing it. The farm work had brought them closer, and Gumlea had prospered as a result.
No longer did Will cruise the local pubs looking for a good time every weekend. Instead he preferred to share a few beers with Bill in the dying afternoon light. Claire would have called him soft if she’d been around. But Will preferred to think he’d just mellowed and realised what was important.
The smell of smoke wafted through the cab. He was getting close now. Will glanced at his mobile and prayed he wouldn’t have to use it. He could see the fierce flames and Izzy with the hose trying to keep them at bay. The header was a goner for sure.
When he was about ten metres away Will turned the big wheel and swung the truck around to give his dad a better vantage point with their hose. It was time for action.
A faint rumbling sound distracted Izzy and a blue truck braked suddenly beside her. Will and his old man, Brian, had arrived with their water truck.
‘Oh, thank God!’ Their presence gave her more willpower. Brian was on the back of his truck with the pump going, already hosing down the header near Bill. Will had jumped out from behind the steering wheel, opening his mobile and dialling for help as he did. He too had noticed the state of Bill’s burnt legs.
Izzy watched anxiously as Bill slowly descended the narrow blackened steps. He was just about at the last step when she saw him slip on the white foam. His arms flailed above his head, and he collapsed backwards, falling into the smoke and flames that were running riot from the core of the header. They seemed to suck him in, engulf him completely, and he vanished completely from Izzy’s sight.
‘Daaad!’ Izzy screamed out in horror, before choking on the smoke. Her heart leapt against her chest and a wave of sickness washed over her. A blurry figure passed her and she realised it had to be Will. He disappeared into the thick black smoke and licking red flames, calling for her dad. Desperately, she tried to pinpoint them in the inferno. Precious seconds ticked by. She worried that they would be burnt to a crisp and shuddered at the thought. Wave upon wave of choking black smoke puffed out from around the old header, screening off her view.
Izzy and Brian kept two powerful streams of water on the smoke where the men had disappeared, hoping to keep them from the intense heat. Their f
aces seemed to appear, then disappear amid the smoke as if it was playing tricks on her, taunting her at this vulnerable moment. Then Will emerged from the smoke like an illusion, dragging a large blackened body along with him. Turning off the hose, Izzy ran towards them. Her heart pounded. Was he dead? At that moment she saw Bill struggle to move one leg, then slowly the other one. Feeling light and dizzy, she gasped for air, not realising she’d been holding her breath all this time. ‘He’s alive.’
Will easily supported Bill’s weight as they stood. Their faces were blackened, and drenched in a mixture of sweat and water. Small reddish burns scarred the top of Will’s hands, and his hair looked singed in a few places.
‘Isabelle,’ her dad said hoarsely as his bloodshot eyes found hers. She reached up and touched his face, wiping off some black soot. Tears started to gather in the corner of her eyes. She’d never felt so overcome with emotion. Her father was okay. Izzy turned to Will and was struck with a powerful feeling of astonishment and deep admiration. It had been the most heroic thing she’d ever seen.
‘Look, there’s more help coming. Let’s leave the firefighting to them. We’d better get Bill back to the house,’ Will shouted over the roar of the fire and the churning of the pumps.
Izzy glanced behind her and witnessed the spirit of the bush at its best. A convoy of utes and water trucks carrying firefighters were coming up the track and into the paddock to help another farmer in need. It was a heart-warming sight amid such chaos. Even though they’d been harvesting a few minutes ago, they’d all downed tools, parked their headers and run to a friend’s aid without a moment’s hesitation. It was just one more reason why she loved this place so much. She’d be sure to put a couple of blocks of beer at the Gumtree, the local watering hole, to show their appreciation.
Glancing down, Izzy saw a close-up of her dad’s legs covered in purplish-red burns and white blistery skin. His arms and hands had also sustained burns and looked like they would be causing him severe pain. Izzy looked away. It was all she could do to stop her breakfast from rising up in her throat. With her eyes set ahead, she slipped in under her dad’s free arm and helped him carefully into the ute. Sitting next to him on the seat she poured water from her bottle onto his burns to keep them cool. Will ran towards his truck and grabbed his water bottle as well, then ran back to the ute, jumped behind the wheel next to Izzy and Bill, and sped off to the farmhouse.
Grabbing the microphone hand-piece off the two-way with her blackened hand, Izzy called her mum to prepare her for their arrival.
‘We’re bringing Dad home now. He’s got bad burns to his legs, Mum.’
She heard her mum swear, probably unaware that she was holding the button down. ‘All right. I’ll get the bath filled up with water … Izzy, how’s he going?’
Izzy could hear the panic in her mum’s voice and it began to unnerve her. No – she had to hold it together for Dad’s sake. ‘He’ll be okay. He’s a tough old bugger. Will called the ambos, so they can’t be too far away.’
‘I’ll give them a ring and see what’s the best thing to do,’ her mum replied, still sounding anxious but focused on the need to prepare for Bill’s arrival.
‘Okay. We’ll see you in a few minutes.’ Izzy checked on her dad again. He was pale, and probably in shock, but he still managed to give her a wink.
‘I’ll be okay, love,’ were his raspy words of reassurance.
Izzy glimpsed at his burns and tried to get him to have a drink, hoping he was right. Her eyes found Will and silently begged for his assurance that her dad really was going to be all right.
Will found the pleading look in Izzy’s eyes unbearable. He knew she needed reassuring but right now he had no idea how things were going to turn out. He could barely look at Bill without feeling sick and the smell of burnt flesh was clinging to the inside of his nostrils. He kept playing the scene over and over in his head – the moment of searching for Bill in the hot blackness, like he was in the middle of hell with a blindfold on. The smoke had been burning his lungs, but that was nowhere near as painful as the thought of not getting to Bill. Then, almost as painful was the look on Izzy’s face when she thought her dad was gone. It was the same look she’d worn at Claire’s funeral and it ripped at his soul. He couldn’t bear the thought of this family going through that again. Looking at her now, he felt just as worried as Izzy. He’d never seen so much emotion in her big blue eyes – the outpouring of strength as she supported Bill amid feelings of terror and helplessness. He couldn’t find the words to reassure her so he just nodded and returned to steering the ute down the rough track.
Izzy saw Will’s hands grip the wheel. They were black, except where the skin was blistering. She didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t come to their rescue. Will had clearly saved her dad’s life. He was a genuine hero, and she could hardly continue to hate him now.
Carefully, she leaned across and poured some water over Will’s hands while he was driving. His jeans were black and his checked shirt had countless burnt patches all over it. Will turned and smiled through the black ash smudged across his face. Izzy gave him a rare uncertain smile in return and mouthed a silent, ‘Thanks.’ He acknowledged it with a quick nod, then brought his eyes back to the road. No, she thought. It’s not right to despise a hero.
8
IZZY watched the red lights of the ambulance as they flashed all the way down the driveway. She had managed to stay composed throughout their arrival and assessment of her dad. Now they’d left for the hospital she didn’t have to be strong for her mum or her dad, and she started to lose her grip.
Will was standing behind her and saw her shoulders begin to shake. It wasn’t until he moved closer that he saw her face. The soft lines around his eyes creased with worry the moment he saw her tears. Then the unexpected happened. Will put his hand around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She resisted at first, but the gentle circular movement of his thumb on her neck broke her resistance. That and the fact he’d started whispering, ‘He’ll be fine,’ and, ‘Don’t worry.’
The ambulance would take her dad to the nearest hospital, which was in Lake Grace, fifty kilometres away. From there they would more than likely transfer him to Perth by Flying Doctor. Jean said she’d call Izzy that night, with an update on Bill’s progress.
Izzy felt completely lost after her parents left. She wasn’t sure what she should be doing. And she felt awkward and embarrassed about her moment of closeness with Will. She sent him packing by convincing him that he’d done more than enough already, and that he should get back to harvesting, as they were nearly finished.
Sick of twiddling her thumbs and reliving the fire one too many times in her mind, she decided to go into town and put the beer on for everyone who’d helped. She knew they’d all be under the Tree. There was nothing else she could do at home and she wanted to thank everyone personally. Mum would call her on her mobile if she couldn’t get her at home.
The Tree, or Gumtree Tavern as it said on her stubbie holder, was their local watering hole, as the town didn’t have a pub. It was where they all sat and drank and told a few yarns, under the shade of two huge gum trees. The two trees were out the front of the local shop, which also sold liquor, and it had a huge dirt area for parking. The old CWA building was fifty-odd metres to the left and the kids usually ran around its verandahs on a Tree night. You could easily get twenty cars parked willy-nilly between the shop, the CWA and the gum trees.
On her way out Izzy made a note to ring the insurance company to advise them what had happened, so they could make a time to come and check out the header. With the help they’d received from everyone in the district, there was only a small amount of crop burnt, so in that respect they were doing okay. But the header was well and truly a goner.
Ten minutes later she found herself sitting on the old wooden tree log under the branches of the two gum trees enjoying the chatter. The pink and grey galahs squawked nearby and the Albany Doctor had blown in, cooling o
ff the afternoon. It was the first chance she’d had since arriving home to visit the Tree. She’d missed its atmosphere and the friendly faces.
Utes and cars sat parked at random, wherever there was a free spot. Ladies sat with their wines, while kids happily ran about. The men stood around, beers (donated by Izzy) in hand, swapping jokes, or bragging about how well their crop was going, or how great their new big headers were. If it had been a bad year, there would’ve been the constant shaking of heads and sighing among the depressed faces.
Izzy was still in her blackened shorts and singlet, as were all the blokes who’d helped put out the fire. Her hands and arms were patched with black soot and she was sure her face was the same. But it didn’t matter. No one ever got dressed up for the Tree. It was a come as you are, be yourself kind of place, free from judgement. It made her feel so relaxed just being with all the locals, who in a way were like family – people she’d known her whole life, people who’d help at a second’s notice. Yep, there was nothing like a Pingaring crowd.
From a brown paper bag she pulled out a can of beer she’d bought from the shop, revelling in the sound it made as she cracked it open. Putting the can up to her dry lips, she gulped down the first mouthful, which didn’t even touch the sides of her throat. Another big guzzle and she’d be over halfway through it.
‘Hey, Izzy. How ya going? I’ve heard all about the fire.’
Izzy looked up to see Jess squeezing her way through the group. She gave Izzy a hug, then pulled up a vacant milk crate and sat down beside her.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Jess. Just worried about Dad. It didn’t take long for the news to get around.’
Jess’s pale skin seemed to glow among the blackened faces. ‘Are you kidding? You know what this town’s like. Hence the big turnout here tonight,’ she replied.
Family Farm Page 8