by Tony Parsons
‘I’m very grateful to you, Mr Blake. Kanimbla won’t be the same without you. You’ve made a huge contribution and you’ve been an immense help to me personally. I would have found things a lot tougher if you hadn’t been manager here or if you had resented a young bloke like me taking over,’ Ian said.
‘I never thought of you in that light, Ian.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t but some men would have felt threatened having someone like me being handed Kanimbla on a plate. You’ve been more than a manager, you’ve been a friend and that goes for Judy too,’ he said.
‘The men think a lot more of you than they ever did of your uncle, Ian,’ Leo said.
Ian nodded and looked out over the river before he spoke again. He looked at Leo sitting there with his rod in his hand – big, solid, ever-reliable Leo, with his lifetime of knowledge of the bush and property management. The small lines beneath his eyes testified to thousands of hours spent in the open air, in hot and cold conditions and all the variations in between.
‘I suppose some people will wonder why you left here but I doubt that anyone will forget you in a hurry,’ Leo said.
‘Better a has-been than a never-was,’ Ian said with a grin. ‘Now, I propose that we offer the manager’s job to Jim Landers. I’ve watched Jim closely and I think he has the ability and commitment to manage this place. What do you think?’ Ian asked.
‘I think Jim would do a great job.’
‘Good. Now, how would you feel about becoming a pastoral consultant?’
‘Meaning what, exactly?’ Leo raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘I’d pay you a retainer and you would report to me on the state of play. This would only involve you coming back here a couple of times a year. Jim’s employment as manager would be contingent on him accepting your role. It’s not a new idea. A lot of the big grazing companies employed pastoral inspectors. After three years Jim would be on his own. If he were to leave Kanimbla I might need to ask you to step in temporarily but we’ll handle that if and when the situation arises. There’s Peter Cross coming along nicely and he’s potential assistant manager material. What do you say?’ Ian asked.
‘Well … I’m sure I could fit in a couple of trips a year,’ Leo said.
‘If Jim accepts the manager’s job he’ll move into your house. When you come back you’ll stay at the homestead. If Mrs Heatley isn’t here, you can bring Judy to look after you,’ Ian said.
Leo nodded. He was impressed with Ian’s plan. Ian was playing things safe appointing him to a watching brief. ‘I think you’ll have to say something to the men though.’
‘I’ll talk to them,’ said Ian
‘Right. Well we’d better get this fella back to Mrs Heatley then,’ said Leo, sliding the big fish into the esky.
Ian felt much better having talked to Leo about his decision, but he was yet to tell Fiona, a conversation he knew would be the most difficult he’d ever had in his life.
Chapter Thirty-one
Fiona was in the big kitchen setting the table. She was wearing a denim skirt and white blouse, protected by a pretty blue and white apron. Her soft curls fell around her face and she smiled happily as Ian entered the kitchen.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi to you too,’ Ian managed to smile. Now that he was leaving, she seemed to him to be even more beautiful than ever and he felt a spasm of regret. He pushed it away.
‘Would you like to have a drink before lunch? Dad’s going to have a beer,’ Fiona said.
‘Thanks. I’ll have a beer with him,’ Ian said.
Ian joined Lachie on the verandah and they talked about the usual topics – the weather, the price of sheep, cattle and wool – before settling down to lunch. After the roast beef and four vegetables she produced fresh strawberries and cream – his favourites.
‘That was a really terrific lunch, Fiona. I’m so full,’ he smiled, and patted his stomach. ‘Can we walk some of it off?’
‘What a good idea,’ she agreed.
They raced through the washing up and Lachie said he’d have a look at the paper while they were gone.
They walked up the track that led to the shearer’s quarters and then took a branch track to the big wool shed. Fiona walked to the steps that led up to the wool room and he followed her. There were several bales of crutchings stacked against the back wall and Ian sat down on one of them. There was an unmistakeable smell of sheep in the shed and a less pungent smell of greasy wool.
Ian wrinkled his nose. ‘I’ll never forget the smell of an Australian wool shed.’
Fiona sat on a bale and looked sharply at him. ‘What do you mean “forget”? What is it?’
He stared at her, trying to find the right words. ‘I’m leaving Kanimbla, Fiona. I’m going back to England.’
‘What? You’re not serious!’ Fiona jumped off the bale and stood before him, a lump rising in her throat. She wanted to run from the sudden pain she felt in her chest.
‘I’m serious, Fiona.’
‘But why, for God’s sake?’ she asked, holding back tears.
‘It’s just something I have to do,’ he said simply. ‘I have to finish my science degree and then I’ll be doing medicine at Cambridge.’
She shook her head, eyes brimming, ‘I just don’t get it. How could you give all this up, all these people who love you, to spend years studying at university and hospitals? It’s just … stupid.’
Ian saw her distress and felt moved to comfort her, but knew it would make her feel worse. ‘If I’m completely honest, Fiona, I never really wanted Kanimbla, but I took it on to honour my father’s and grandfather’s wishes. It was the least I could do. I’ve given it a good go, but I feel it’s my destiny to be a medical researcher. Science is in my blood.’
‘But what’s in your heart, Ian? What kind of person can give up everything for a microscope? I don’t know who you are anymore,’ Fiona said hotly.
‘It’s not for a microscope, Fiona,’ he chided her gently. ‘It’s for people. Did you know that three thousand people die from malaria every day and that most of these are little children? Children like Billy … ’
He let that fact sink in. ‘And that women are twice as likely to die from malaria if they are pregnant? Each year there are over three-hundred million cases of malaria and that’s five times as many as all of the cases of tuberculosis, AIDS, measles and leprosy put together.’
Fiona folded her arms, knowing that what he said made sense, but not wanting to hear it.
‘There’s a strong possibility that malaria could even be introduced to Australia,’ Ian continued. ‘What’s more, scientists believe that global warming and other climatic changes could increase the areas prone to malaria.’
‘But what can you do, as one man? There are heaps of brilliant researchers working in this field, Ian. Don’t you think they’ll come up with a cure for malaria long before you’re even ready to begin work?’ she asked fiercely.
‘If everyone felt that way, we’d make no progress at all medically,’ he said. ‘Scientific opinion is that it may take twenty years to come up with an effective vaccine to prevent malaria. The available drugs are becoming less effective because of resistance to them. Malarial mosquitoes have been around for millions of years, so they’re very hard to knock out. But there’ll always be diseases that need controlling, and it’s the combined knowledge of scientists everywhere that helps find solutions,’ Ian said.
‘Why couldn’t you stay and research ways to rescue the wool industry? God knows it needs a saviour,’ she said savagely.
He ignored her tone. ‘Why don’t you?’
‘Me? And I suppose you’d offer to help me like you’re helping Rhona Blake,’ she said huffily.
‘Of course I would,’ he said softly. ‘I’m only repaying the kindness of the Blakes by helping Rhona. I’d do the same and more for you.’
‘Oh, Ian,’ she sighed. She tried to imagine studying for years, weighing it against the life she had at Nelanji and the fact that she woul
d have to leave her father whom she loved. She also thought of how very difficult it would be to get used to the idea of marrying someone other than Ian Richardson, someone second best. It was all too much for her and she fell against him and sobbed.
He held her tightly. ‘Hush, Fiona. It’s okay.’ After a while he moved her gently away from him and stroked her arms. ‘I’m so sorry. I know you think I’ve let you down.’
Fiona wiped her eyes and nodded.
‘But looking back, I think I’d made my decision long before I came to Kanimbla. You’ve got to look at what your priorities are and get on with your life too, Fiona,’ he said.
‘Ian, can’t you see? I simply want you. I’ve wanted you from the very first day I met you. If you stay at Kanimbla we could have a wonderful life together,’ she said between sobs.
‘Oh, Fiona,’ he held her close again and could feel her lovely shape against him. ‘You’ve been such a dear friend – my best mate. But I’ve got a huge amount of work to do. I couldn’t do justice to a relationship with any woman. It’s not just you. I’ll be working all hours, sometimes at Cambridge’s training hospital and when I finish there I’ll be doing another course,’ he said. When he felt her sobs ease he handed her his handkerchief and sat her down on the bale beside him.
‘I must look awful,’ she said.
‘You always look pretty good to me,’ he said.
She felt a stab of grief, and pushed it back down. ‘But not good enough apparently,’ she said as she dabbed at her eyes. How had she allowed herself to hope for all this time that he might one day return her love? She got up off the bale and walked across the room to the back door of the shed.
‘Have you told Dad yet that you’re leaving?’ she said, with her back to Ian.
He got up off the bale and joined her. ‘No, I wanted to tell you first.’
‘Have you told anyone else?’ she asked.
‘Only Mr Blake.’
Fiona turned to him suddenly, ‘Did it ever occur to you that you could have me and your medical research too?’
‘Of course it did,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’ve agonised over that, but I’d be neglecting you for a lot of the time, and it would be unfair on you – perhaps even unbearable.’
‘How do you know it would be unbearable for me?’ Fiona almost snapped. ‘You don’t seem to have much faith in me. Haven’t I supported you in everything you set in motion in Murrawee? Did I ever let you down? Did I? Well, if you think I’m an emotional lightweight then perhaps this is for the best.’ Fiona turned away from Ian, quickly negotiated the woolshed steps and ran back to the homestead. She had intended to tell him what she might do in England, but Ian seemed to have made up his mind so what was the use? Was Rhona Blake the stumbling block? Surely not. And according to Judy, Ian was only helping her. It just didn’t make sense.
Ian walked slowly back to see Lachie and explain his decision. Lachie’s handshake was firm and sincere. He was disappointed when Ian told him he was leaving, but more worried about how his daughter would cope with the news.
As Ian drove off, a single tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away quickly and took a deep breath. He was on a path now. It was going to be a long and arduous journey, and in his right-minded way, he couldn’t see how it would be fair to expect Fiona to take it with him. How little he knew about women …
Chapter Thirty-two
Ian Richardson sat on a log beside the river and looked down at the handsome black and tan dog at his feet. Of all the decisions he’d had to make at Kanimbla, sending Gus away was one of the toughest. This dog was in a class above the ordinary working dog, and Ian knew he’d never own another like him. His sadness at losing Gus was only partly eased by the fact that the dog would be going to Catriona, who would be sure to look after him very well.
He could have kept Gus longer, but was worried that a snake might get him before he could sire some pups for David MacLeod. Maybe Gus would sire some famous dogs of the future; he was such a great animal. What he could do with sheep was incredible.
Ian sat with the dog, stroking his head gently. ‘You can’t understand why I’m sending you away, but it’s for the best, old mate. I’m going to be very busy. Some day I’ll write about you and this place but that won’t be for a long while.’
Jim and Karen Landers drove down to the homestead, bursting with curiosity. Ian had sent for them, and they figured it must be serious, as Leo and Judy were looking after Billy.
Ian sat them down in his study. ‘Mr Blake is retiring and will be leaving here in a couple of months, though I’ll be retaining his services as pastoral consultant. Now this may not come as too much of a surprise, but I’m also going to be leaving. I’ll be going back to England about a week before Mr Blake and Judy leave Kanimbla.
‘Do you mean you’re leaving to live in England permanently?’ Jim asked.
‘That’s right. But I’ll be coming back from time to time. I’ll be studying medicine at Cambridge. It was actually what I was planning to do before I inherited Kanimbla.’
‘We’ll all miss you,’ said a suddenly tearful Karen.
‘And I’ll miss you, but I will come back and see you all again. And now for the best part of my news. Jim, I’m offering you the position of manager. If you accept, there’ll be a substantial increase in your salary and you’ll be living in the manager’s house. You would be the boss of Kanimbla, though Mr Blake would occupy a kind of watching brief for three years. After that period, and all being well, you’d be on your own,’ Ian said.
‘You’ll always be the boss of Kanimbla, Ian,’ Jim said. He wasn’t put out about Leo being retained because he knew that was par for the course with the big pastoral companies.
‘I’ll be the boss in absentia. You’ll be the boss in residence. So do you want the job? Or do you need more time to think it over?’ Ian asked.
‘No, I don’t need time to think it over. I’ll accept it and thank you for offering it to me,’ Jim said.
Ian looked at Karen who, he noticed, had suddenly become very quiet. ‘Are you happy about Jim’s decision?’
‘Yes, fine. We figured that when you made Jim assistant manager to Mr Blake that you’d probably eventually offer him the manager’s job,’ Karen said.
‘But are you sure you’re okay with this? I had the feeling that you didn’t really like being here,’ Ian pointed out.
Karen was embarrassed by Ian’s uncharacteristic directness, but rationalised that he was probably under a lot of stress.
‘Jim being manager makes a big difference. I’ll have to do more entertaining when Leo and Judy leave,’ she said, ‘which means more of a social life, if not a challenge.’
‘Ah, yes. We’ll have a look at the manager’s residence and see if it needs any repairs or renovations before you move in,’ Ian said kindly.
‘One more thing, Jim. I was hoping you might keep an eye on the sheepdog trials in Murrawee. Fiona has been convenor of the trials and I’d like you to give her any help she needs in the way of sheep and manpower. Would that be agreeable to you?’
‘No problem, Ian,’ Jim said.
‘We’ll talk again over the next few days. You’re pretty good on the computer so we can keep in touch by email and fax and I’ll talk to you from time to time,’ Ian said.
Karen kissed Ian on the cheek before she and Jim went down the steps of the front verandah. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For this and for everything else you’ve done for us since you came here.’
‘Ability and good service should be rewarded,’ said Ian. ‘People like you and Jim are the future of rural Australia.’
Ian found Leigh working at his long table on his covered front verandah. The table was littered with dozens of sheets of paper, some of which contained only a few lines of writing. But it was Leigh’s appearance that stopped Ian in his tracks. One eye was half-closed and the skin around it varied between black and yellow while both lips were badly swollen and the top lip was cut.
‘Di
d he catch up with you?’ Ian asked.
‘Who?’
‘Alec Claydon.’
‘How did you know?’ Leigh asked.
‘Let’s call it an educated guess,’ Ian said.
‘Jesus, he hits hard,’ Leigh mumbled through his swollen lips.
‘So what’s the upshot?’ Ian asked.
‘I’ll just have to lay low for a while, I guess.’
‘Perhaps a long while,’ Ian suggested.
‘Yeah. Well maybe you’re right,’ admitted Leigh.
‘Judy says Alec and Trish became a lot closer after her accident. She’s taken up pottery and been doing some lovely pieces featuring birds. Luke could sell some of them at the park. Tourists might like to take something away,’ said Ian.
‘I’ll mention it to him when I see him next,’ said Leigh.
‘That might be a good way to make amends to the Claydons,’ said Ian. Leigh shot him a sideways look, but let the comment slide.
‘So what are you working on now?’ Ian asked as he sat down beside the table. ‘It looks impressive,’ he said.
‘I’m writing a script for a musical about Thunderbolt.’
Ian raised an eyebrow.
‘He was a bushranger who held up coaches in northern New South Wales, though he ranged over a wide area. His real name was Fred Ward. He was killed near Uralla by a police constable who went on to become Commissioner of Police. Funny thing, there’s someone still putting flowers on Ward’s grave one hundred and twenty-odd years after he was killed. There’s dozens of stories about Thunderbolt. He was a great horseman and he never killed anyone. He mostly rode the rough country of the Great Dividing Range. He got down as far as Moonan Flat in the Scone district. “Only the crows know where he goes.” Anyway, what brings you to this house of iniquity?’
‘I’ve come to tell you that I’ll be leaving Kanimbla in a few weeks. I’m going back to Britain and Cambridge. I didn’t want you to hear the news second-hand,’ Ian said.
Leigh put down his pen and gave Ian a concerned look. Eventually he said, ‘It’s a wonder you lasted this long!’ and his face broke into grin. ‘Well, good luck to you. How did they take it down at headquarters?’