Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2)

by Rachael Johns

  He thought of his own sister—his best friend, confidante and lifeline as they were growing up. Even after everything, he still missed her.

  Shaking his head free of that unhelpful thought, he turned into the gravel drive and followed it past a number of paddocks until he came to a cluster of buildings. What seemed to be hundreds of black and white cows were being herded towards the largest of the sheds by a big bloke Fergus didn’t recognise, riding a motorbike. The man waved and kept going, ushering the cows with the help of a couple of dogs.

  Ferg drove on towards a house in the not too far distance. The closer he got, the more it looked like something out of a TV farm drama—big limestone bricks, a shiny tin roof and verandahs all round. Two wicker rocking chairs sat on the verandah with large pot plants adding a lovely greenery and making the place look like a real home. A lump formed in Ferg’s throat and he was seriously considering turning around when the front screen door opened and Tabitha stepped out of the house onto the verandah.

  She lifted her good arm and waved, the wide smile on her face telling him she was happy to see him. He could hardly leave now, so he parked under a big gum tree not far from the house and got out.

  He waved as he strode towards the house. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Long time no see,’ Tabitha called back. She’d changed into baggy black work pants and an oversized blue shirt, but still looked hot.

  ‘I came to check on Ned.’

  ‘That’s really sweet of you.’ She bent down to shove her feet into a pair of gumboots and he couldn’t help marvelling at how she managed with only one arm.

  Luckily, he averted his gaze just as she looked up.

  ‘Lawson and Meg have taken Ned to Bunbury for an X-ray and probably a cast, which means I’m on milking duty with Ethan.’

  ‘Who’s Ethan?’

  ‘Our worker.’ She chuckled as she started towards the sheds. ‘He’s really much more than just a worker now. Ethan’s from Ireland but been with us a couple of years. Don’t know what we’d do without him.’

  She spoke so fondly that Ferg wondered if there was something going on between them. Tab had said she was single but someone had to be the father of her baby.

  ‘Well then, I suppose I’d better go,’ he said a little awkwardly.

  She paused in her stride and turned back. ‘You’re not interested in meeting the girls?’

  ‘The girls?’

  She laughed. ‘Our cows. I know they’re a little smelly but most of them are such sweethearts.’

  Ah, right. ‘I wouldn’t be in the way?’

  ‘Not at all. I might just put you to work, but,’ Tab glanced down at his clean white sneakers, ‘we’ll have to lend you a pair of boots. Come on.’

  He laughed as he shoved his car keys in his pocket and fell into stride beside her. Not too far away he could see a horde of cows waiting in the pens on one side of the largest shed. They were what he guessed you’d call ‘lowing’ as if they were all in conversation about what they were about to do. The two dogs he’d seen earlier were running back and forth between the cattle, barking orders.

  ‘That’s Clyde and Cane,’ Tab said, following his gaze. ‘Clyde—the kelpie—is a fabulous worker, takes after his mother Bonnie, who sadly died last year, but Cane … He still gets a bit excitable.’

  Ferg guessed Cane was the large white dog, which looked a bit like a snowstorm churning up the dirt. ‘Hang on … is Cane a Maremma? Is he …?’

  Tab cracked a chuckle. ‘Yep. One of Adeline’s—she sold him to Lawson when she was trying to get into his pants. But we don’t hold his origins against him.’

  He laughed. ‘So, have you lived here all your life?’

  ‘Yep, all twenty-seven years of it, aside from three at boarding school for Years 10, 11 and 12.’

  ‘What was that like?’

  ‘Boarding school?’ She shrugged. ‘Some days it was like living at Malory Towers and other days it was hell on earth. Mostly the girls were nice though, they became a bit like sisters, and being in Perth let me pursue some passions that weren’t possible down here.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Music.’ The word sounded a little choked. ‘I used to sing and play guitar.’ She cleared her throat and gestured to the shed in front of them. ‘Anyway, here we are.’

  The noise and smell from inside hit Fergus in the face even before they entered so that he forgot all about her mention of music as he covered his nose. ‘How do you handle that smell?’

  It was a terrible combination of sour milk, manure and disinfectant or something.

  ‘I’m so used to it, I don’t even notice it. I only remember when we have a visitor who isn’t from around here, but you’ll get used to it quick enough.’

  Ferg wasn’t so sure but followed her nonetheless.

  Tabitha stooped just inside the door to pick up a pair of black, well-used gumboots. ‘Here, put these on. They’re Lawson’s—I think they’ll fit.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He took them from her, their skin touching in the exchange and he couldn’t help a quick intake of breath. It had been so long since he’d touched anyone that the feel of Tabitha’s bare skin on his almost felt like an electric shot.

  As he yanked off his sneakers, she walked around the mammoth milking platform-machine-thing to the other side of the shed. He shoved his feet into the boots and followed her, just as the machine started to turn.

  ‘Well, well, well, who do we have here?’ said the bloke he’d seen earlier as he joined them at what Fergus guessed was the start of the circular milking platform. ‘G’day.’

  The typically Aussie greeting sounded weird in such a strong Irish accent, but he nodded up at the guy and said, ‘Hi.’ He couldn’t offer his hand as the man was standing up in the pens ushering cows one by one onto the milking platform.

  Tabitha was already working hard on the ground level, spraying each cow’s udders, then wedging the hose in her armpit as she used her hand to clip some kind of metal suction thing onto the udders as the animal passed her. She smiled and nodded between the two men. ‘Ethan, meet Fergus—he’s the new teacher in town and came to check up on Ned. Fergus, meet Ethan, he tells terrible jokes and has a penchant for quoting Aussie movies at us—you’ll learn to ignore him.’

  Ethan aimed his middle finger at Tabitha but his wide grin said he meant it in the most good-natured way.

  ‘What’s your favourite movie?’ Ferg asked.

  Ethan screwed up his face as if deep in thought as he nudged another animal onto the machine. ‘Tough question—have to be a toss-up between The Castle and The Dish.’ He rubbed another cow’s behind in a very tender manner. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m more of a fantasy guy myself. Avatar is a bit of a fave, and I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve watched the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter movies.’

  ‘Harry Potter, hey?’ Ethan winked. ‘Our Tabby’s a bit of a fan of those.’

  ‘The books are even better though. Anyway, enough of the chitchat, do you want to have a go?’ She nodded to the bare bum of the cow nearest to them and Ferg’s heart dropped.

  ‘What if I get it wrong?’

  ‘If a one-armed woman can do this, anyone can. Here, I’ll show you how and then I’ll do the spraying and you can attach.’

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped up close, unsure who he was more terrified of—Tabitha or the bovines. Putting the hose spray under her arm again, she unhooked one of the suction things from where they were hooked on a bar that circled the machine and proffered it. As he took it, she sprayed the nearest udders. ‘Right, now grab one udder with your other hand, then squeeze the suction cup and put it on. It’s not rocket science.’

  Feeling ridiculously nervous—he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Tabitha and Ethan—Ferg followed her simple instruction and was stupidly proud when it worked. He felt a massive smile grow on his face as Tabitha praised him with a simple ‘Good’.

  There wasn’t time to celebrat
e his victory before she added, ‘Quick, do her other one. The rotary may look like it’s going slow, but we need to be quick or a cow won’t get a full milking before it goes the whole way round.’

  When the rotary was about two-thirds full, Tab gestured for him to follow her again. ‘Ethan will keep things going here now and we’ll start taking them off at the other side.’

  Nodding, he went after her again. ‘How long does it take to go round? And do all the cows only go through once?’

  ‘This rotary holds fifty cows, one rotation is ten minutes and, yep, once round each.’

  ‘How do you know they’ve all been through? They look pretty indistinguishable to me.’

  ‘Shh. Cows have feelings too, you know.’ There was teasing gleam in her eye as she pointed up at the nearest one. ‘You see that tag on her ear?’

  He nodded.

  ‘They’re part of our electronic tag-on system—it registers as they get on and off and helps us ensure the whole herd gets milked. Much, much easier than the old days.’

  He paid close attention as she began the disembarking process, explaining exactly what she was doing as she unclipped the suction cups from the first cow, sprayed her udders with the disinfectant and then unclicked the little chain that was holding them into the rotary just as the machine delivered them to the exit gate. The cows backed out of the rotary and then ambled into the exit pens. He swore a few of them gave him a bemused look as they went their merry way, but Tabitha captivated him far more than the big black and white beasts.

  She seemed more proficient at doing most things than anyone with two arms would be. He was so in awe that he didn’t notice he was staring at her little arm again.

  But she did.

  His cheeks heated as she caught him looking and he was about to apologise when she said, ‘Cancer.’

  He blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘That’s how I lost my arm.’

  His stomach grew hard. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal.’ She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Usually I tell people as soon as I meet them. It’s easier once it’s out in the open, but with you …’

  ‘I was a jerk and so you changed your MO.’

  Her lips quirked as if she was struggling not to laugh. ‘Something like that. Anyway, not long after my sixteenth birthday, I was home for the school holidays when I noticed I had a lump about the size of a golf ball on my arm. I just thought I’d knocked it on something and probably wouldn’t have gone to the docs, except that it was affecting my guitar playing. Our local doc thought it was tennis elbow, so I got by on a lot of painkillers and pretty much forgot about it. When it was still there a year later, Gran made me go see a locum. He immediately sent me to Bunbury for scans, and it turned out I had a sarcoma.’

  She kept working as she talked but Ferg was hanging on her every word, semi-shocked by the matter-of-fact way she spoke. He’d had girlfriends who’d wallowed more over the loss of a nail.

  ‘Anyway, I was operated on, but,’ she sighed loudly, ‘another year later I got another birthday present. Just after I turned eighteen, we discovered the sarcoma had returned and the only option was to amputate.’

  ‘Fuck. I hope that first doctor was held accountable for such a monumental stuff-up.’

  ‘He retired not long after as the locals totally lost faith in him, and now we have Dr Palmer. She’s brilliant, and had she been the doctor to see my arm the first time, I’m sure I’d still have it, but life’s like that. I focus on what I have, not on what I’ve lost. I survived to tell the tale, thanks to my amazing family and friends. There are a few things that are tricky with only one full arm, but I don’t let much get the better of me and I feel so very blessed with my life.’

  He wanted to ask what she found difficult, but that felt wrong somehow—a bit like someone driving slowly past a car crash—so instead he said, ‘Is there a reason you don’t have a prosthetic?’

  ‘What makes you think I don’t?’

  He didn’t know what to say to that, but she just laughed.

  ‘I do—it’s hiding somewhere at the bottom of my wardrobe. When I moved to Rose Hill earlier in the year, I actually considered turfing it, but I figure sometimes I’m all alone out there and it might make a good weapon if I ever need to bong someone on the head.’

  Now he laughed too as an image of Tabitha assaulting an intruder landed in his head. He reckoned she’d definitely give as good as she got.

  ‘The truth is my plastic arm is pretty useless. The few things I struggle to do with one arm—opening cans, doing up buttons, putting on bras—weren’t any easier when I was wearing my prosthetic, so I didn’t really see the point. I actually feel less disabled without it, although I sometimes think other people would be more comfortable if I wore it.’

  ‘Who gives a toss what other people think?’

  ‘Not me.’ Tabitha winked at him. ‘Well, not usually. Anyway, I see what you’re doing. Distracting me so I don’t notice you slacking off. Don’t just stand there, you can help at this end too, you know?’

  ‘Dammit.’ He made a show of clicking his fingers in disappointment, then stepped up close to her again so she could instruct him.

  They chatted easily as they fell into a routine—Ferg unclipping the suction cups so she could spray the udders clean before he unclipped the chain. He even had to get up into the bed at one stage and try to ‘encourage’ a cow who’d decided to take a little nap to keep going. Tab cracked up as he tentatively pushed at the cow’s behind and for his efforts was rewarded with an explosive spurt of poo that landed on his boots and splattered up his legs. Milking in shorts was proving a dangerous business.

  ‘You’ve well and truly been initiated.’ Tab was still laughing. ‘And let me guess, you barely even notice the smell now?’

  She was right. He didn’t. In fact, there was something almost calming about being involved in this early stage of milk production, or maybe it was just being around Tabitha. The time went fast in her presence and he found everything she told him about dairy farming fascinating. It was so much more involved than he’d ever imagined. To think that they did this twice a day every day, yet despite the long hours and the seeming monotony of the work, it must be deeply satisfying, knowing you were feeding a nation. He got a similar satisfaction from teaching, knowing that he had a hand in shaping future generations.

  Once the cows were heading back to pasture, Ferg helped Tabitha and Ethan hose down the shed and make sure everything was ready for them to do it all again tomorrow morning.

  By the time they’d finished, the sun had almost set. The sky—all orange and deep purple—looked like a pretty painting and Ferg felt better than he had in weeks. He hadn’t quite forgotten about the message from Jools, but it no longer bugged him as much.

  ‘What you up to tonight?’ Tabitha asked Ethan as they lingered just outside the shed.

  Ferg didn’t think it was possible for the man’s smile to be any bigger, but it grew even more at her question. ‘I’m going into town to see Kimmy.’

  Tab grinned back. ‘I certainly hope you’re going to have a shower before you go visit lover-girl.’

  Ah, so there was nothing going on between Tabitha and Ethan. Ferg felt ridiculously pleased by this knowledge but immediately pushed the thought away. It shouldn’t matter if there was anything between Tab and the Irish larrikin.

  Ethan wriggled his bushy eyebrows up and down. ‘Kimmy prefers me when I’m dirty.’

  Tab whacked him playfully. ‘Too much information.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Ethan said, holding out his hand to Ferg, ‘it was great to meet you. Thanks for your help.’

  Ferg shook his hand. ‘Likewise, and no worries. I had fun.’

  ‘See you both later.’ Ethan turned to go, whistling as he walked away.

  ‘Does he live on the farm?’

  ‘Yep. We’ve got a cottage—you’d have passed it on your way in but it’s a bit hidden by trees. It was built for my
grandparents when Mum and Dad got married and moved into the big house. When Granddad died and Gran moved into town, Lawson and Leah lived there as newlyweds. Then when Dad retired and moved to Bunbury with his new wife, Lawson and Leah moved into the big house and I went to the cottage. We’ve all lived there at some stage, but now it’s for workers.’

  ‘Hang on … I thought Ned’s mum was Meg?’

  A sadness washed over Tabitha’s usually cheerful expression. ‘Meg is Ned’s stepmum. She and Lawson only got married a year ago.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Leah, Ned’s mother, was killed in an armed robbery while she was working at the service station.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Ferg breathed, lost for any other words. That poor kid. That poor guy.

  ‘She was pregnant with their second child. They both died at the scene.’

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, although he’d never have guessed Meg wasn’t Ned’s biological mother, which surprised him. After years of foster care, he thought himself pretty good at picking the real parents from the temporary or replacement ones. ‘I don’t even know what to say to that.’

  She reached out and touched his arm. ‘You don’t need to say anything.’

  For a moment they stood like that—eyes searching each other’s, his heart beating so hard he swore she could probably see it through his dirt-splattered T-shirt.

  Ferg had an almost irrepressible urge to kiss her. But eventually kissing led to other things and sleeping with Tabitha would be an even bigger mistake than sleeping with Carrie. She was pregnant with someone else’s child and he’d long ago made the decision that he’d never father a child that wasn’t his own. There were too many ways to stuff it up. But even if she wasn’t pregnant, he was only in town temporarily and he liked her. He could see a long-term friendship developing if he wasn’t stupid enough to let lust stuff it up.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better be going, before this cow shit cakes itself onto my skin.’

  She smiled as she snapped her arm back to her side. ‘Yes, good idea.’