by Cate Kendall
‘Aren’t you going to tell me who it is?’ Nick asked.
‘Nah, sorry, Nick. It’s all hush-hush. This company wants complete confidentiality: they’re terrified that word will get out before the deal is done.’
‘They probably think that another company will come and pay you double,’ Nick said.
‘No, the coin this investor’s spending is phenomenal. And they’re supplying land, too, so we can do it on an enormous scale. We’ll be able to power the whole village in a couple of years.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Nick. ‘It actually works; it actually makes power?’
‘You’d better believe it, buddy boy,’ Songbird said.
‘How? It still doesn’t make sense to me.’
‘Well we’ve developed further from that pit in the ground you saw last time.’ Songbird leaned forward and rubbed the chill from her fingers, then glanced up as a nearby wombat shuffled into his hole.
‘We now make the terra preta in that construction that we were looking at earlier.’
‘Your bio-char lab?’ Nick asked indicating the fridge-sized metal container sitting atop the terra preta pit. ‘I remember you telling me all about it in great detail last month but I hadn’t imagined it would look quite like that. So it all breaks down in there, does it?’
‘Yep, and as the manure, the mould and the carcasses do their decomposing work and the timber turns into charcoal, the gas that is released is collected and fed into the fuel cell, which produces electricity.’
Rainbow pointed overhead to a paper Chinese lantern holding a single light globe. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s our own homemade electricity. It’s so exciting. I feel a bit like God, you know. I reckon She’d be proud of us.’
‘How do you keep the power coming as a constant, you know, so it doesn’t drop out?’
‘We’re working on that now, actually,’ Songbird explained to Nick. ‘We’ve devised a series of six pits. They work in annual cycles, with the seasons. Our first pit is at power-making stage. It will run out of the vapour that is the by-product of the process after two to three months. We have a second pit all ready to go, full of seaweed, manure, cuttings, clippings and compost, and we fired it yesterday. It has a week before it settles into a lovely, organic, living, breathing beast. Then we shift the lab onto that second pit. But our fuel cells will be fully charged at that point so there is no interruption to the power supply. And then the first pit will be ready for seedlings. It is the most outstanding soil you could ever imagine. Black as tar, soft and rich. Seeds grow into plants overnight. The fruit will grow to enormous proportions.’
‘You’ll do well at this year’s agricultural show,’ Nick said as he stamped his feet to stop his toes going numb.
‘Yeah, I’ll say – we’ll be accused of giving them steroids,’ Songbird laughed and went on. ‘Basically each pit will be at a different stage of development. One: freshly filled with rubbish, poo, and seafood and about to fire; two: producing power; then three: seedlings; and four: growing; five and six: mature plants and harvest. It all depends on the season. The four green pits will be growing each season’s plants. The summer pit, for example, will be fruiting strawberries, tomatoes, beans and whatever else fruits in summer, and then in winter it will become the pit making the power as that pit doesn’t grow winter fruit and veg.’
‘It really is a remarkable system,’ Nick said, and took a sip of his elderberry wine. ‘And it’s wonderful that it’s finally up and running after all our hard work over the last few months.’
‘It’s amazing how little space it takes up, too,’ Rainbow said. ‘You can do it on less than a quarter acre, really. Obviously the larger the pits and the bio-char lab the greater the power, but we’re already running one light globe and our fridge off the small test operation.’
‘It’s so incredible,’ Nick said. ‘I’m honoured to have been along for the ride.’
‘It is pretty amazing. But the thing is, Nick, there’s still a lot of construction involved if we want to seal the deal with this investor and we’re going to need your help.’
‘I’m here for you right now, girls: you can count on me at the moment. But I am thinking of going walkabout for a while. I’m just feeling a little bit ... I don’t know.’
Rainbow’s blue eyes melted in concern. ‘Awww, Nick, you miss her. You’re such a sweet thing.’ She patted him on the back of the hand.
Songbird leaned back in her chair with her workboot-clad feet stretched out and her arms folded. ‘He is a stupid, dozy bugger. That’s what he is.’
Both Rainbow and Nick looked up at her. ‘Excuse me?’ Nick said.
‘What did you bloody let her go for? Rainbow misses her, Tori mopes around here like a misery-guts, the girls in the store miss her. You could have stopped her and you didn’t.’
‘I get to speak to her a couple of times a week when she rings,’ Rainbow protested. ‘We have a good old natter.’
‘You miss her!’ her mate said forcefully. ‘I can tell: you’re all mushy. It shits me.’
‘You miss her too,’ Rainbow accused.
‘Yeah, yeah, all right. I miss the stupid cow too.’
Nick sat listening to the exchange before he stood up for himself. ‘Songbird, it’s not as easy as that. I couldn’t have stopped her. First of all, she had to go and do this, she had to prove that she was good enough with her art to earn a real living out of it. I think it’s very important to her professionally. She needed it. And if I had stood in her way, she would always have resented me. She would forever have wondered what might have been. And I don’t want to be that guy.’ He swirled his wine around his glass, then looked up at the women. ‘And anyway, Songbird, what makes you so sure she would have said yes? She’s not interested in me; she’s interested in that dickhead in town.’
Songbird snorted with derision.
Taylor appeared before them in his pyjamas, shivering in the cold night air. ‘She’ll be back by the end of the month,’ he said, then shook himself off after relieving himself on the lemon tree, and went back inside.
37
‘Home again, home again, jig-a-jig jig,’ Jess sang loudly to herself as she drove into Stumpy Gully. It was a song she and the boys had sung whenever they came home, and tonight that’s just what she was doing. She felt light and giddy with excitement to be coming back after five long months. There was the old church with the op shop attached, and the playground where she used to take the boys. There was the town hall, which looked as if it had had a facelift.
The weatherboard houses shaded by rows of eucalypts seemed to beam their welcome to Jess as she drove past on her way to the pub to see one of her favourite bands.
Linda, Jessica’s maître d’ from the General Store, had called her that afternoon in a frenzy.
‘Cousin Leonard’s back from their European tour!’ she’d squealed down the phone. ‘And guess what? Songbird was in this afternoon and she heard from Les the hairdresser who cut Wayne the publican’s hair this morning, that they’re making a surprise guest appearance at the Stumpy Gully Hotel tonight!’
Jessica had spent her teen years dancing to Cousin Leonard in the town hall. But now that the band was constantly touring and enjoying international success, it was rare for them to come home and there was no way Jess was going to miss out on seeing them.
The pub was rocking when she walked in. Obviously the secret was out. Three-quarters of the town’s population was there. As she squeezed through the crowd, the band’s first song came to an end, and suddenly Jess found a spotlight shone on her. She blinked in the bright light.
‘The prodigal daughter returns! Welcome home, Jessica. You back for good, darlin’ girl?’ the band’s front man Marty asked as the crowd cheered.
Jessica, both chuffed and a bit shy to be singled out, called back good-naturedly, ‘No, just visiting, Marty.’
Marty led the chorus of a disappointed ‘Awwwww!’ from the room.
Jess laughed and made her w
ay to a group of townies in the corner.
‘Here she is,’ Fi called out. ‘Our city girl, down for a weekend.’
‘Just like us,’ Cat said. Jessica shuddered. She looked at the group in their well-fitting denims and padded pastel quilted jackets, designer sunnies perched on their head. Each one looked like a clone of the next. God she hoped she wasn’t just like them.
Tori smiled and gave her friend a hug. ‘How is it going? You’ll excuse me for saying, darling, but you look absolutely shattered. I hope you’re not overdoing it.’
‘Oh, it has been a busy week.’ Jess accepted the hug gratefully. ‘Quite a bit on. More importantly, how are you?’
‘Not bad, honestly. Just trying to keep it all together.’
‘Good on you, Tori, I’m proud of you,’ Jessica said seriously.
She briefly considered asking Tori’s advice about Jimmy, but decided she couldn’t stand one more opinion on the matter. Besides, it was her ship, after all.
Jessica sat down and smiled her thanks as Tori poured her a glass of sauvignon blanc. She looked around fondly at the beautiful Stumpy Gully Hotel with its Victorian terrace lacework, heritage colours and etched windowpanes. This had been Jess’s favourite pub ever since she and Nick had tried to sneak in under-age.
The band took a break just as Jess noticed Nick walk in. The flood of sheer pleasure washing through her body startled her. She wanted to run across the room and throw herself into his arms, but instead she took the conservative approach and stood as he made his way through the throng of rowdy locals to her table.
She was about to put out her arms to embrace him when he gave her a thin smile and said flatly, ‘Hello, stranger.’
‘Hello yourself,’ she replied, relieved she’d opted for the more sedate greeting.
Nick looked around the crowded pub, searching for a spare table.
‘Let’s go outside, down to the lawn,’ Jessica pointed and followed him after excusing herself from her friends.
It was freezing. She was glad she’d brought her puffy coat. Their breath billowed like clouds of steam as they walked onto the grass to sit at the old timber table. Jessica was suddenly struck by the sea and sky before them.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘I’ve been coming to this pub for nearly twenty years and I’ve never seen it like this. It’s remarkable.’ The stars were so plentiful it was as if the sky had been sprinkled with glitter, the air was crisp and clean and the salt tanged in the back of her throat. ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ Jessica said under her breath. ‘I’d for gotten.’
Nick sat down at the table. ‘Yeah, it’s amazing how you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.’
She looked at him. ‘You’re right.’ She looked back to the view, aware his eyes were still on her.
He raised one eyebrow and looked at her. ‘So, Red, how have you been?’ he asked eventually, just as she was starting to squirm under his frank gaze. ‘I haven’t heard from you.’
‘I’ve been good, Nick. I’ve seen the boys a couple of times: they’re getting so big. How are you?’
‘Busy,’ Nick said. ‘Your dad’s really cracking the whip. And Caro’s been down heaps lately; she says she wants to give you your own space.’
‘Yeah, well, she needn’t bother, I moved out of her place last week.’
‘On your own? How does that feel?’ Nick asked, gouging his nail into the tired timber.
‘It’s good,’ Jess told him.
‘Are you safe though?’ he asked.
Jess laughed and punched his arm. ‘A – I’m not a teenager, B– this isn’t Victorian times, and C – what’s it to you anyway?’
‘I just care about you,’ Nick said.
The flutter in Jessica’s stomach was undeniable. She looked up at him, feeling a slight flush in her cheeks. ‘Do you?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ Nick said and sipped his beer. ‘Like a big brother, you know.’
‘Of course,’ Jessica said, embarrassed.
They sat in silence, nursing their drinks and watching the seagulls torment a young couple eating fish and chips at a foreshore picnic table.
‘Nick?’ Jessica asked, folding her arms protectively around herself.
‘Hmmmm?’ Nick said absently, his eyes on the band inside as they picked up their instruments to start the next set.
‘Tell me about Imogen,’ Jessica said. Even though Nick’s eyes were fixed on the lead singer tuning his guitar, and his face remained impassive, Jessica could tell she’d struck a raw nerve.
‘Why?’ Nick asked.
‘What happened? I’m just curious.’
‘You know the story,’ Nick said, turning his steady gaze onto her face.
‘Nick, there’s more than just a story,’ Jess said, leaning towards him. ‘Of course I’ve heard the local gossip but I wanted to hear it from you. We’ve never actually talked about it.’
Nick stopped tapping his foot distractedly and sighed. Jessica knew she’d won.
‘Look, you remember what a difficult time that was for us.’
‘How could I know that, Nick? I never saw you. If you remember, Imogen wasn’t my biggest fan. And she couldn’t stand my boyfriend either.’
‘No, you’re right about that. God, you and Pete went out for years,’ Nick said.
‘And now he’s happily working in the mines in Port Hedland, but that’s not what I want to talk about.’ Jess finished her last mouthful of wine and put the glass firmly on the table.
He sighed again, dragged a beanie out of his pocket and pulled it over his head. ‘Well, she didn’t really hang around with everyone here at the pub,’ he said, rubbing his hands together in the cold air. ‘And I admired that in her, in the beginning. Coming from Melbourne to go to high school in this hick down; she always acted a little superior. I guess that’s what I fell for: her city sophistication, or some crap.’ Nick downed his beer and stared out to the black waters beyond the ti-tree foreshore.
‘We got married too quickly, straight out of school, but I wanted to do the right thing; she was pregnant, and well, I was pretty obsessed with her anyway. And when she said yes, I can’t tell you how that made me feel. To be accepted by the beautiful ice queen? I felt like a superhero.’ He pushed his hands into his pockets.
‘And then after the wedding?’ Jessica asked.
‘That’s when things went bad. She blamed me for every thing – being pregnant, stuck in a tiny fibro shack in a two-horse town. Her family told her she’d made her bed, so she could lie in it – that sort of thing. I was working my guts out, but nothing made her happy. Then little Matilda came along ... Oh, Jess, I loved her so much.’ His voice cracked. He reached to the napkin holder and pulled out a wad of paper.
Jessica took his hand in hers. ‘It’s okay Nick, take your time,’ she said quietly.
He cleared his voice roughly and continued. ‘That’s when things got seriously out of control. She was such a bitch during the pregnancy and after the baby came she got post-natal depression but neither of us knew it then. It was bloody awful. She actively hated me and barely tolerated Matilda. I overheard her on the phone one day saying she’d never wanted to be a mother anyway.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Obviously she was sick, but I didn’t have a clue. And she treated me like shit, though that was pretty normal for her.’
Jess squeezed his hand. ‘Did you try talking to her? Or counselling?’
‘Of course I did,’ he said. ‘She’d just scream at me that she deserved better than this “shithole”. She was chain-smoking by then. She always had a fag in her hand. I am sure she smoked in the house when I was out – the place reeked.’
‘It must have been a nightmare.’ Jess shifted closer to him.
‘I didn’t know what to do, Jess.’ He looked her straight in the eye, the pain still raw in his face. ‘Imogen refused to breastfeed so although most days were hell, I had these incredible moments with Matilda, holding her tiny body and feeding her. I was totally in love.’ His eyes shone
with the memory.
‘I’d sit there in the early hours of the morning and just gaze at her little face. It was magic, Jess.’ He sat up straighter, charged with emotion. ‘It was the most magnificent time of my life. Sure, I was dog-tired, my wife hated me and I was working constantly to support us all, but I feel so lucky I had those moments.’
For the first time it occurred to Jess that she and Nick had experienced a similar loss. She hadn’t thought of it that way before, but she now understood why Nick had been so empathetic when she lost her boys.
His voice dropped. ‘It wasn’t like that for long. Matilda only lived four weeks, Jess. I remember waking with a fright because it was seven a.m. and she hadn’t woken up for her four a.m. feed.’ He took a slow breath and blew it out like white fog in the cold air. ‘I ran to her room and Imogen was standing there like a ghost. Her skin was practically transparent. White, with blue veins in her forehead and temple; I’ll never forget it. Her eyes just stared at me. They looked like glass. Grey glass. Tears were running down her face and dripping onto the baby.’ His voice faltered, and Jess put an arm around his back.
‘Matilda looked like she was asleep, but–’ His voice caught and he swallowed hard before continuing. ‘But I could tell right away that she wasn’t, you know, there any more.’ He hung his head and his shoulders heaved with pain.
‘Oh, Nick,’ Jess whispered, grabbing a napkin to mop up her own tears.
He looked up into the trees as an owl hooted softly, then he continued with his story. ‘Imogen didn’t speak, she just lay Matilda on the mattress, and walked out. She didn’t come back the whole day. I was in shock; I didn’t know what to do.’ The owl hooted again and Nick turned to watch it launch off a nearby branch and beat silently through the still air.
He turned back to her and went on. ‘Eventually I rang the doctor, and he came and sorted everything out. By the time Imogen returned it was all over.’ He wiped the back of his hand over his face. ‘I found out later she’d been seen in the town fifteen kilometres away. She was still in her nightie with bare feet. She must have just snapped, Jess, to walk all that way and back.’