Ro sat straighter. ‘I’m curious about these fellows you’ve dated. The ones who want you to leave the army. I knew about Sam, of course. I didn’t realise there were others.’
Lucy’s cheeks grew hot and she prayed she wasn’t blushing. ‘Just guys . . . guys I’ve met.’
‘In Townsville?’
She knew her mother was watching her carefully from behind her sunglasses and she tried for an offhand shrug. ‘It’s no big deal, Mum. I’m not dating anyone now and if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it.’
‘All right. Keep your hair on. I was only trying to show an interest.’
‘I know.’ In a bid to soothe, Lucy added, ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s just that I’ve noticed you don’t seem very happy, Luce. I knew you were upset when you left because of Sam, but I hoped you’d be over him by the time you came home from your holiday.’
‘I am over him. Honest. Well and truly.’
She knew that her mother would almost certainly have had more questions about this, but a sign appeared providentially ahead, telling them they’d reached Richmond.
‘Let’s see if we can get a hamburger here,’ Lucy suggested and, to her relief, her mum claimed to be starving. The subject of boyfriends was dropped.
__________
Originally, they had planned to spend the night in a hotel in Cloncurry, but they made good time, arriving at the outback town by mid-afternoon.
Ro was behind the wheel. ‘Would you like to push on?’ she asked. ‘We could make it to Kalkadoon before dark.’
‘Yes.’ Lucy could barely curb her impatience. ‘Let’s grab a cold drink and keep going. Harry told the manager at Kalkadoon to expect us either tonight or tomorrow morning.’
The country changed again after another hour or so, the black soil plains giving way to tree-studded red-dirt country with rocky limestone outcrops topped by scrub and vine. From the crest of one of these ridges, they spotted a line of trees winding across the landscape like a giant Dreamtime snake.
‘That’s the river,’ Ro said, stopping the Pajero so they could take in the view. ‘I’m pretty sure it forms part of Kalkadoon’s boundary.’
‘Wow. It’s awesome country out here.’ Lucy’s voice was hushed and she leaned forward, staring intently through the windscreen.
‘Hard to believe you’ll own something like that, I guess?’
‘Impossible,’ Lucy whispered. After a bit, ‘Is this how you remembered it?’
‘Not really. Not yet. But I’m sure it’ll all come back to me when we get closer to the homestead.’
‘I wonder how Georgina felt when she first travelled out here.’
Ro smiled at her daughter. ‘Probably very similar to the way you’re feeling now.’
‘Gobsmacked,’ Lucy suggested.
Reaching over, Ro squeezed her hand. ‘One step at a time, okay?’
To Ro’s dismay, Lucy’s face turned white and she looked as if she might cry.
‘Lucy, don’t stress about this.’
‘No, I’m not. Sorry. It’s okay. I’m okay.’
‘I know the thought of owning a cattle station is a huge burden, love, and something you weren’t expecting. To be honest, I’m relieved it’s not my responsibility, but Keith and I will still be on hand to support you. Keith has a good head for business and he’d be happy to help with decisions.’
‘I know. I’m fine, honestly. Just having a moment.’
Concerned, Ro watched as her daughter drew deep breaths. It wasn’t at all like Lucy to be so fragile. Ro couldn’t tell if she was truly worried about inheriting Kalkadoon, or if something else had upset her, something that had happened in England, perhaps. She hoped to get to the bottom of it over the next few days.
Lucy took over the driving again when they turned off the bitumen onto a rust-red track. An off-road driving course had been part of her army training and Ro was happy to hand over.
Ro wound down her window and took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of dust and grass and eucalyptus. They were the scents she remembered, just as she also remembered the bronze glow of the afternoon sun on the paddocks, the rocky red cliffs in the distance and the haze of soft, green bush along the riverbank.
They arrived at the river crossing – an ancient natural ford topped by slabs of concrete and rock and filled with three large concrete pipes to channel the water in the wet season. Halfway across the makeshift bridge Lucy stopped the car and wound her window down. ‘What a beautiful river.’
The water was a refreshingly clear blue-green with brilliant white sandy banks lined with huge creamy-trunked paperbarks and backed by majestic cliffs. The limbs of the paperbarks hung low, trailing their fine, tapered leaves over the surface of the water like idle fingers. A low island of gravel and rocks in the middle of the river bend was home to a fallen tree trunk, scoured to a smooth ivory by floods and sunshine, and now the perfect perch for a flock of black cormorants.
‘It’s just stunning,’ Lucy said softly. ‘I wish Harry was well enough to have come with us.’
‘Yes.’ Ro was wishing she’d thought to bring her father out here before his health deteriorated.
Lucy picked up her mobile phone. ‘How about I ring him?’ As she pressed his number, her face fell. ‘No network. Of course. Should have guessed.’
‘You should be able to call him from the homestead.’
‘Okay. That will have to do.’
They set off again, climbing away from the river over another rocky ridge, then along more twists and turns on a bumpy track. Then, suddenly, another turn, and the view Ro remembered.
Ahead lay a long stretch of paddocks and, in the distance, the house, a typical outback homestead, sprawling and high set, with a ripple iron roof and deep verandahs, set in an expanse of lawn and shaded by ancient trees.
‘Wow, Mum,’ Lucy said beside her. ‘Welcome home.’
‘Don’t say that.’ Ro’s voice was already choked. ‘Don’t make me cry.’
‘I reckon you’re allowed to cry, coming back here after all this time.’
Ro managed to stay dry-eyed, however, and as they drove closer she could see the cluster of out-buildings beyond the homestead – the garages and big machinery sheds, the ringers’ huts, a small cottage and a satellite dish, both of which were new, and a windmill or two.
A tall outback figure in jeans, a faded blue shirt and wide-brimmed Akubra, with a blue cattle dog at his heels, was hurrying in long-legged strides over the grass to open the front gate for them.
‘You think he’s the manager?’ Lucy asked.
‘More than likely.’
‘G’day there,’ he called as Lucy pulled up and he greeted them with a beaming smile.
Ro found herself staring at his smile, at his deep chocolate eyes and his white teeth, so bright against the dark brown of his face. It couldn’t be, could it?
She and Lucy climbed out of the vehicle.
‘Welcome to Kalkadoon,’ he said and Lucy immediately offered her hand.
‘Thanks. It’s great to be here at last. I’m Lucy and this is my mum, Ro.’
Lucy and the manager shook hands and then he turned to Ro. ‘Hello, Rose. Doug Prince.’
Ro gasped. ‘Dougie? It is you?’
His bright grin split wider than ever. ‘You remember me?’
‘Oh my goodness!’ She gripped his hand tightly. She and this man had been best mates till she was ten, riding horses together, fishing and swimming in the creek. ‘Of course I remember, but it’s been such a long time.’
‘More than forty years.’
‘I had no idea you were still here.’
‘Never left the place. I’ve been manager for going on twenty years now.’
‘Goodness. And I suppose you’re married? Do you have a family?’ How terrible that she knew none of these things.
‘My wife June is here with me,’ Doug told her. ‘We’ve got two kids, a boy and a girl. Your dad helped us to send them to a g
ood school in Brisbane and they’ve done real well. Kathy’s a nurse now and Joey works in cattle. Into bloodlines and breeding. He’s the young gun down on a big cattle stud outside Rocky.’
‘How wonderful!’
Doug nodded. ‘He’s a good bloke, your dad.’
‘Yes.’ Once again, Ro was incredibly relieved that she’d finally made peace with her father. Doug was so right. Harry Kemp was a very good bloke.
She looked about her now, studying the house and the big old trees that shaded it. She turned to Lucy. ‘When we were little, Doug and I used to spend hours hanging out in a bottlebrush tree.’
‘Hanging upside-down, more like,’ laughed Doug.
‘Yes. We were a pair of little monkeys. Is the tree still here?’
He shook his head. ‘Died years ago in a drought. But I’ll show you somethin’ that’s survived.’
Beckoning for the women to follow him, he led them to a curved ironwork archway separating two straggling garden beds.
‘Your mother planted this climbing rose,’ he told Ro. ‘Story I heard, she brought it with her from England, and we’ve kept it going all these years. Harry used to care for it and then my mum, and later my wife. Watered it by hand through the droughts. It’s had a struggle at times, but it’s managed to flower every year.’
‘How amazing.’
‘Awesome,’ whispered Lucy, touching a reverent fingertip to a dainty pink petal. ‘This is the rose George named you after, Mum.’
Too emotional to speak, Ro nodded.
‘Anyway,’ said Doug. ‘You’re probably dying for a cuppa.’ He turned to Ro. ‘I guessed you’d probably want to stay in the old homestead?’
‘But we don’t want to put you out.’
He shook his head. ‘June and I built our own smaller place a few years back. A cabin, neat and easy to air-condition. The big old house is a bit run down these days, but June’s been in there, dusting and mopping and making up the beds.’
‘Oh that’s very kind of her.’
He grinned. ‘Keeps her outta mischief.’
__________
The homestead was old and shabby. Lucy was aware of the peeling paint and the tarnished brass knocker on the front door, the unpainted verandah floorboards worn to a silvery grey.
Inside, the furniture was rudimentary with a couple of camping chairs in the lounge room and an old TV propped on a wooden crate. The beds had metal ends and rather thin mattresses, but the sheets were snowy white and crisp and clean and there were soft cotton blankets neatly folded and ready if needed.
A big old-fashioned dresser dominated the kitchen and the stove looked ancient and battered, but it would do for heating up the food they’d brought in an esky. A great feature was the bank of windows on the far kitchen wall offering a view out across the paddocks and all the way to the creek.
‘At least everything’s very neat and tidy,’ Ro commented after Doug had left them. ‘A bit drab and spartan, but don’t let that put you off.’
‘Oh, it won’t put me off,’ Lucy insisted. ‘I’m used to drab and spartan after Tarin Kowt. But I really like this house, Mum. It’s a bit like Harry’s place in Townsville, only bigger.’
Secretly, she was delighted with the big old house and she could easily imagine getting stuck into it with a paintbrush and scouring secondhand shops for the right kind of furniture.
She knew she mustn’t get too carried away, though. Running a cattle property involved a hell of a lot more than playing house in the homestead.
32
Lucy was introduced to the business of running Kalkadoon the next morning when Doug conducted a tour of their immediate surroundings, starting at the machinery shed and taking in the cattle yards and various nearby paddocks with assorted water troughs, dams and windmills.
She learned that the property covered three thousand square kilometres and turned off four to five thousand head of Brahman and Brahman-cross cattle each year.
‘Harry was happy with that number,’ Doug told her. ‘But I reckon, if you wanted to spend more money and effort to really muster out the cleanskins, you might pull as many as eight thousand off this place.’
Lucy stared at him in surprise. ‘And I guess that would make a lot more money.’
He chuckled. ‘A hell of a lot more.’
It was all rather mind-boggling. ‘So how do you manage the mustering? Do you get help?’
‘Too right. We hire a contract mustering team – it’s pretty much the same mob every year. They’re good. They know the country. Mustering usually starts as soon as the wet season’s over – late March or April.’
‘And what happens now in January and February? General maintenance?’
‘Yeah. I have to keep an eye on all the water troughs and the dams, and make sure the fences and yards are in good working order. Some seasons, if we haven’t had enough rain, I take feed out to the cattle.’
He ducked his head towards the cluster of buildings that made Kalkadoon look almost like a small village. ‘You saw the big machinery shed. This time of year, we put the vehicles up on a hoist. My off-sider, Bluey, is an ace mechanic, so he gives the vehicles a good overhaul.’
Lucy nodded at this. She’d been making a mental inventory and had counted a surprising number of vehicles – an excavator backhoe, a cattle truck, two four-wheel drive utes and a LandCruiser. Not to mention a quad bike and two trail bikes.
Seemed there were more vehicles on Kalkadoon than horses.
She had to ask. ‘Do you still use horses?’
‘Yeah, of course.’ With his hands resting on his skinny hips, Doug gave a shrug. ‘We use the bikes a fair bit these days, and we get a chopper in to help with the mustering. But on a property like Kalkadoon there are so many gullies and scrubby hills you can only reach on horseback.’ He shot Lucy a searching smile. ‘How are you on horseback?’
‘Oh, a very raw beginner.’
Ro gave a huffing little laugh. ‘The only horse you’ve ridden is on a merry-go-round.’
Lucy tried to sound offhand. ‘Actually, I had a couple of horse-riding lessons in Cornwall.’
Avoiding her mother’s surprised look, she turned to Doug. ‘I imagine you have to be very self-sufficient out here.’
‘Too right. Only way you can survive.’
‘And you’d have to order everything in. All the fuel and the food supplies, the spare parts for the vehicles and machinery.’
Ro piped up again at this point. ‘That’s Lucy’s area of expertise, Doug. She works in logistics in the army.’
His eyes widened. ‘Fair dinkum?’
Lucy laughed. ‘Didn’t you notice the fond pats I gave those big rolls of barbed wire and the bundles of star pickets? I feel at home seeing them, and those shipping containers and oil drums. I spend my days ordering and transporting gear, or managing construction projects for the army.’
Doug was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Blow me down. Then you’re tailor-made for this place, aren’t you?’
Lucy couldn’t help grinning back at him. ‘Maybe.’ Then more seriously, she said, ‘But tell me the truth, Doug. This is your home, you’ve lived here all your life. How would you feel about someone like me owning this place and running it someday – with your help, of course?’
To her surprise he didn’t hesitate. He looked her straight in the eye. ‘I’m a Kalkadoon, so this place will always be my country. There’s some native title that I can talk to you about, but your family has been good to my family for three generations now and I’d hate to see strangers or one of those big cattle corporations running it.’ He smiled. ‘I reckon it’s time one of Harry’s mob came back here.’
Lucy, needing headspace and the chance to let all the new info settle inside her, went for a long walk just before sunset. She followed a narrow track made by cattle, a deep sandy rut that led along the riverbank. In the shade of ancient paperbarks, she drank in the cool peace of the shadowy bush and the slow drifting water. She thought abo
ut Harry and George and she tried to imagine what their life must have been like when they lived here. Where were their favourite haunts?
She thought about her mother and Doug, playing here as kids, swimming and fishing and swinging in trees, and she wondered what it would have been like if her mum had stayed on and she’d grown up here, too, riding horses and canoeing on this river, helping with the mustering, cooking on a camp fire.
Surely, an outback cattle station provided the ultimate adventurous lifestyle? Lucy would have loved it, she had no doubts about that.
It was rather amazing to realise that she could still have that adventure if she chose to live here.
But what about the isolation? a small voice whispered. Wouldn’t you be lonely?
Her counterarguments came with surprising speed. She would probably be too busy to be lonely. And she’d make friends with people on surrounding properties. Ro seemed to love the place, perhaps she and Keith would come to visit fairly often.
Today they’d enjoyed a jovial barbecue lunch with Doug and June and Bluey, dining at a long table set under a spreading tamarind tree. Her mum had recalled a raft of stories once she and Doug started reminiscing about the good old days. It was wonderful to listen to them, almost like discovering a new version of her mother.
June was still shy at the moment, but Lucy was sure that would change given enough time. Bluey, a red-headed Irishman, who’d come to Australia decades ago to work as a jackaroo, was an entertaining raconteur, a great teller of bush yarns, who kept them in stitches. Lunch had been fun.
Lucy knew there were bound to be all kinds of interesting characters out here and it wasn’t as if she could never get back into town for a spot of social life. Anyway, she’d been surrounded by friends among her fellow soldiers, and while she’d enjoyed her job, she’d never felt a true calling in the army.
Here, she felt not a calling, exactly, but a sense of connection that was hard to ignore.
‘Maybe I should just give it a go,’ she said aloud, as the track took her beneath an archway of weeping bottlebrush. After all, she’d never had any trouble forming new friendships and if things didn’t work out, she didn’t have to stay here forever. If she was going to leave the army, she needed to replace it with something equally fulfilling.
The Secret Years Page 33