by Cate Kendall
‘Terra preta,’ Songbird boomed proudly. ‘It’s fucking brilliant!’ She couldn’t resist the triumphant grin that creased her leathery face.
‘We’re going to save the planet!’ Rainbow squealed and embraced Songbird rapturously again.
‘Settle, petal,’ Songbird said, shaking her off like a naughty puppy. ‘Take a breath or you’ll hyperventilate.’
‘This?’ Nick said looking at the rectangle of dirt and straw. ‘This is going to save the planet? How? And what’s terra preta?’
‘El Dorado!’ Rainbow beamed and said, ‘This is El Dorado.’
‘She been smoking?’ Nick asked Songbird.
Songbird chuckled. ‘Come on; we’ll pour you a wine and explain it all.’
The trio headed towards the house as Songbird explained. ‘Apparently the ancient Amazonian Indians had shit soil,’ she began. ‘So they made good, fertile soil by making bio-char. They made a hole like we did–’
‘How deep’s the hole?’
‘Couple of metres ... then they filled it with compost, timber scraps, fish guts, shit, animal carcasses, anything and everything organic. Then they set fire to it, right? Covered it with straw and soil and left it to burn.’
‘Like a luau pit? Cooking a pig over a few days?’
‘Exactly!’ Rainbow said, excitedly applauding Nick’s quick grasp of the subject.
Songbird continued. ‘Then, after weeks of this process, the soil attracts bacteria, which grows, as well as worms, bugs and other creatures that filter it through their systems. It turns into this most way-out, rich black stuff you cannot believe. And fertile, man – you could grow a politician a conscience in this stuff!’
‘So you’re making really good compost; that’s great – but what’s so new about that?’ Nick asked.
‘But there’s more, there’s more, there’s more, this is where we save the plaaaaa-net, tra la la la,’ Rainbow sang as she skipped around them.
Songbird ignored her mate’s antics and went on. ‘Instead of the slash-and-burn method that we use today, which completely roots the environment and sends greenhouse gasses hurtling towards the ozone layer, the slash-and-char method not only keeps the carbon in the ground but – and get this – sucks it out of the atmosphere!’
‘You can’t be serious?’ Nick said. ‘I thought only trees could do that.’
‘No, dude, it’s true. It’s because it’s slow-burning organic material in an oxygen-deprived environment under massive heat and pressure.’
Nick looked at her and shook his head. ‘Jesus, Songbird, you sound like a textbook; you must have been seriously reading up on this.’
She nodded soberly.
‘That’s amazing. It could be really, really important,’ Nick said, trying to digest the information.
‘And just now we checked the pit for the first time since we set it alight last week. It’s been burning slowly underground for all that time, which means...’
Rainbow interrupted with a delighted screech, ‘Which means it’s working! Yahoozalee!’
‘Which means it’s working,’ Songbird repeated, giving Rainbow a fond look.
They sat at a table on the back courtyard while Rainbow grabbed a bottle of wine and glasses from indoors.
‘So basically, Nick,’ Rainbow trilled as she filled the mismatched glasses, ‘what we have here is a system that can increase plant growth, improve soil structure, reduce soil acidity, lower evil greenhouse gas emissions, reduce the need for poisonous fertilisers, reduce nutrient leaching and fully improve soil water retention; all while cooking up delicious, healthy microorganisms and fungi – AND sucking carbon back!’
The pretty blonde hippie hardly stopped for breath as she went on. ‘These soils not only contain higher concentrations of nutrients such as nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium and calcium, but also greater amounts of stable soil organic matter.’ Rainbow finished her spiel with a dainty pirouette and then dropped to a deep curtsey.
Nick was gobsmacked at Rainbow’s scientific explanation. He turned, wide-eyed, to Songbird.
‘Yeah,’ she nodded, ‘I still get surprised even though I’ve known her thirty years.’
‘Oooh, pretty – look!’ Rainbow cried and skipped off in pursuit of a passing butterfly.
9
Jess grasped the dust cloth tightly between her fingers and marched down the hall to fling open a door that had been closed for months. Inside, the red-white-and-blue quilt she’d made three years earlier lay crisp and neat across the base of the single bed.
A gingham teddy perched cheekily on the pillow. One glass eye was crooked and it made him look disappointed, as if he’d been hoping for a different visitor.
Only a few toys remained; mostly vintage things her brother had grown up with. The shelf above the small white desk showcased things nautical: a sailboat, a miniature life-preserver, an antique boat in a bottle.
Dr Suess’s Hop on Pop lay on the white wicker armchair in the corner. She knew the book word-for-word after reading it over and over in the four years she’d been a stepmother. The boys had called Richard ‘Pop’. He missed them too.
She shook the memories from her head, bustled in and dusted the bookshelves, the desktop, the headboard and windowsills, refusing to linger over the photos on the pin board.
It was probably time to clean the rooms out altogether and turn them into guestrooms, but she couldn’t face it yet. Maybe they’d come back one day; even just for the night, and they’d think she’d forgotten them. No, she’d leave the rooms set up for now. Just in case.
The phone rang, jolting her back to reality. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed it on the fourth ring.
‘Hello? Oh hi, Caro.’
Jess had hoped for a pleasant diversion from her sad thoughts, but knew from experience that a phone call from Caro was hard work.
She clicked the phone on to speaker, and pulled out the long duster to attack the plantation shutters in the kitchen – no point in wasting a perfectly good cleaning urge.
‘Hi, Jess, can you hear me?’ Caro’s voice crackled from the base.
‘Yep, how are you?’ Jess said, climbing the stepladder to start above the sink.
‘Fine. You?’
‘Yeah, great. How are the kids?’
‘Hamish is brilliant, as always, brought home a sterling project mark today. Charlotte’s a little minx. Has her father around her little finger at the moment.’
‘Good on her,’ Jess grinned. She liked Charlotte’s forthright manner. ‘Angus well?’ Jess hadn’t seen her brother for ages. He was always flat-chat at work. She reached up higher to get a recalcitrant spider and its elaborate home. God, those webs spring up overnight, she thought.
‘How would I know? I haven’t seen him in months. He eats and sleeps here, but that’s about it. He’s at the office or in court or interstate constantly. And of course I’m running around after him, doing all the little SMS lists he sends me. Pick up this, organise that. It’s just a nightmare. The kids are miserable.’
‘Charlotte still has time to wind him round her finger though?’
‘Well, yes, they do see him occasionally. He still drops them at school on Wednesdays. And I only just found out that all year he’s been going in and helping with their readers and music lessons. I didn’t even know!’
Jess stepped down a level to address the dust on the windowsills. ‘How lovely. What a good dad.’
‘Yes, wouldn’t it be nice if he could find the same sort of time for his wife? I couldn’t tell you the last time we did something together.’
Jess shook her head in silent frustration. She happened to know Angus and Caro went out just a few nights before. Her sister-in-law used exaggeration like salt, to spice up any conversation.
‘So, how was last Thursday night?’ she asked and turned around to perch on the kitchen bench in order to reach the window ledges.
‘What? Oh, when Angus and I had dinner with your father? It was fine; your dad’s well. As dyna
mic as ever. Very keen on that Genevieve. Actually that’s why I’m calling.’
‘Oh, is something wrong?’ Jess’s duster paused.
‘Well, I am a bit concerned actually...’ she began.
Jess climbed down the stepladder. ‘Is something happening with Dad?’ Jess’s throat felt tight.
‘I don’t like to bring this up, Jessica, but I feel I must tell you that Genevieve is flashing around another new piece of jewellery.’
Jess’s tension dissolved, to be quickly replaced with a hot flash of anger.
‘You’re concerned that Genevieve has a new bit of bling?’ She was incredulous at her sister-in-law.
‘Not just bling, darling, it’s the new Bulgari ring. It’s worth absolutely thousands.’
‘What has this got to do with us, Caro?’ Jess had had enough of this conversation.
‘Jessica, don’t you understand the implications of this?’
‘Ummm, no, I guess not.’ Jess’s voice was muffled as she searched out a Chux from the back of the cupboard under the sink.
‘You know they’re in Port Douglas, don’t you?’
From jewellery to Port Douglas? Maybe Caro was having too many chardys with lunch these days. ‘Yes, Dad said they were taking a mini-break.’
‘A break?’ Caro crowed. ‘The man’s semi-retired, what kind of break could he possibly need? Didn’t he buy her the Tiffany tag pendant for her birthday?’
‘Err, I can’t remember,’ Jess said vaguely, her attention more focused on the mould behind her tap.
‘Jessica, your father is spending all of his money on this ... this ... woman.’
‘So what?’ Jessica snapped. ‘It’s his money, he’s worked hard for it.’
Caro sniffed. ‘I’d have thought that the fact that your father is frittering away the family estate might have been of concern to you,’ she said haughtily.
Jessica rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips to speak firmly to the handset in its holder. ‘Caro, I’m sure you’re overreacting, there’s nothing serious going on here. What’s wrong with some gift-giving in a normal loving relationship?’
‘Oh, Jessica, open your eyes. Don’t you see that as soon as she becomes Mrs Richard Wainwright she’ll be in control of the estate? She’ll be a part-owner.’
‘Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but I still think you’re overthinking it.’
‘Someone has to, Jessica. Surely you don’t want the family fortune all spent on fripperies and girlfriends. Not to mention the risk to the future of the family estate. What would your mother have said to this kind of behaviour?’
An invisible line had just been crossed. Jess threw her cloth into the sink, picked up the phone and spoke slowly and firmly. ‘Caro, I think it’s time we said goodbye.’
‘Well, this won’t be the end of it. He’s gone crazy: jewellery, expensive dinners, OTT holidays – it’s neverending. You’re down there in the country, you don’t see what I’m seeing. I’ll keep tabs on the situation and keep you informed.’
‘Goodbye, Caro,’ was all Jess could manage before stabbing the disconnect button.
She leaned heavily against the kitchen bench and peeled off her pink rubber gloves, seething with anger. How dare Caro bring her mother into this? She’d never even met Eva Wainwright, for God’s sake, and to use her memory to manipulate her own greedy ends was unforgivable.
Jess thought about her mum every day. It had been twenty years since she died, but the ache of missing her had never dissipated.
She turned to gaze out the window as evening crept silently across the property that had once been her parents’ home.
What would her mother have said about her dad getting on with his life? She thought back to the last time she had seen her mum. It was at a party on the homestead’s back deck; a party for Eva. The family had just sold the lavender fields on the east edge of the property, with their adjoining cafe and distillery. It would mean an end to the long hours Eva had worked for years to make the business a success.
She had been giddy with the excitement of being a retiree at just forty-eight. It was a stunning summer evening, balmy and still. She’d had several of her special ‘Lavender Bubblies’ and was regaling the group with her ‘must do’ list as a lady of leisure. Her dreams were getting sillier and sillier and they were all in hysterics imagining the gregarious Eva Wainwright living for a month in Coober Pedy, mining for opals, but she insisted she just loved those dear little underground homes.
Then she’d died. Just like that. Without warning. Cruelly and stupidly, as if fate were listening to her plans and decided to stomp on her dreams for fun.
It was an aneurism. That very night; she didn’t even get the dignity of finishing her own celebration, Jess thought bitterly.
The crowd had thinned about midnight and only family was left. Someone noticed Eva was missing. Richard went to look for her, joking she’d probably done a runner and snuck off to bed early. He’d found her on the bathroom floor.
When she’d fallen, a bottle of lavender essential oil had crashed to the ground with her and the sweet stink had filled the house. Jessica remembered the smell filling her nostrils just as her father came back, ashen, to the deck.
What would her mother have said? Jessica mused. Probably, ‘Go for it, darl.’
10
Tori tapped at the screen door. She was holding a bottle of pink moscato in one hand, and a platter of antipasto in the other.
‘Yum,’ Jess said as she opened the door and took the wine. ‘I love a guest who comes prepared.’
‘Well, I figure you must get sick of everyone expecting you to be the queen of catering all the time, so I thought we’d break into some of my Christmas stash a bit early,’ Tori replied as she made herself at home on a stool at Jess’s broad kitchen bench. ‘Oooh, looks like you’ve been busy here. What are you making?’ she asked.
‘Oh, it’s just something I was putting together for the boys,’ Jess said, picking up the scrapbook she’d been working on. ‘It’s photos of us all together, and captions so the boys can remember their country life,’ she said, flipping the pages. ‘Look, that’s last Christmas at Rainbow and Songbird’s: Nick dressed up as Santa and gave out lollies to all the kids.’ She laughed at the memory.
‘This is gorgeous, sweetheart, they’ll love it,’ Tori said, poring over the thick cardboard book with its handwritten captions, dozens of photos and bright borders. ‘Do you think you might be able to give it to them in person?’ she asked, closing the book and passing it back to Jess.
‘I doubt it,’ Jess answered sadly. ‘I rang Graham again last night, but he still won’t even return my calls.’
‘Bastard,’ Tori spat. ‘Oh thanks, love,’ as she took the glass of pink bubbly from Jessica.
‘I agree.’ Jess took a gulp of her wine. ‘Ooh, this is lovely,’ she said. ‘Now tell me what’s going on with you, girl. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all afternoon.’ She indicated the pile of paper, photos, scissors and glue scattered across the bench. ‘You talk and I’ll clean; I’ve been on a bit of a roll tonight.’
Tori picked at the sun-dried tomatoes on the platter before her. ‘Okay,’ she finally said and sighed deeply. ‘It’s Joseph and me. It’s ... ah ... well, I think we’re in trouble.’
Jess’s arms were heaped with craft items and photo albums. She looked around for a place to set them down, taking a step one way and then another before finally dumping them back on the bench and walking over to embrace her friend.
‘Shit, Tori, when you said serious I had no idea you meant seriously serious.’ She sat on the stool next to her and looked into Tori’s face with concern. ‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘It’s just come to an end. I am so frustrated with everything; we both are. We can’t seem to be together without screaming at each other. And worst of all is ... well, I don’t even think I love him anymore. And I doubt he has any feelings left for me either.’
‘Oh hell
. Since when?’ Jess asked.
‘Well it’s all so humiliating,’ Tori paused for a mouthful of wine. ‘It seems to stem from money troubles, embarrassingly enough. I mean, could it be any more clichéd and suburban?’ Her eyes swam with tears.
‘I just can’t believe it, sweetheart,’ Jess sympathised, rubbing Tori’s arm. ‘You guys have always been so great together.’
‘I know,’ she wailed. ‘But now he’s constantly hassling me about spending, and it’s not as if I buy every designer bag that comes out, I’m really quite restrained, you know,’ her eyes widened at the injustice of it all. ‘Although I did just buy this fabulous Chanel bag last month in LA when I took the children to Disneyland; isn’t it to die for?’ She dropped the bag back onto the sofa in defeat.
‘Our relationship has just become so stale and awful, there’s nothing but squabbles. And with everyone talking about this stupid economic crisis – well, it’s just too boring, isn’t it?’
‘Have you tried counselling?’ Jessica asked and moved to retrieve the wine from the fridge.
‘He’s suggested it a few times, but I figure why bother? It’s not going to help. I don’t know if I even want to work on the relationship. I just don’t know what to do. Please don’t tell anyone.’
‘Of course not,’ Jess promised, topping up both their glasses.
‘You know what? I really don’t want to talk about it any more, it’s so hideous,’ Tori said.
‘No worries,’ Jessica said, ‘but I’m here whenever you need me, okay?’
‘Thanks, love,’ Tori nodded, plucking a slice of baked eggplant from the platter. ‘And I’m sorry for dumping all this on you. You have enough relationship angst of your own to deal with.’
Jess went back to sorting out her scrapbooking supplies. ‘That’s okay, sweetie, your stuff doesn’t make mine any harder; we all have things to deal with.’ She screwed the lid tightly onto her glue pot. ‘Sometimes I just wish I hadn’t been so sucked in by him, you know, but then I think that at least by trusting him I got those wonderful years with Liam and Callum.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t decide what would have been worse; never having them to begin with, or losing them the way I have.’