Placing the bag on the floor behind the pot plant where it wouldn’t be seen if Ernest did wake, Thomas knew this was it. There was no time, no options left.
He went into the bedroom, where Howard was asleep on a thin mattress. Leaving his younger brother was his only regret. With just a year between them, he knew it might be only a matter of time before Howard made the same decision Thomas had made tonight.
The brothers’ argument the day before removed some of the guilt Thomas felt for leaving him on his own. To maybe become their father’s punching bag.
Deep within him, Thomas harboured a hope that his brother might just be okay. Howard didn’t look like their mother, not the way Thomas did. Up until now, it had given his younger brother some kind of protection against Ernest’s beatings and sharp, cutting tongue.
‘Take care, mate,’ he muttered as he shoved an envelope under the bedding. Thomas had saved hard for the pound note that was inside, along with a letter.
Howard didn’t move.
With a final glance over his shoulder, Thomas went into the hallway and stood in front of the grandfather clock.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. It was mesmerising.
‘I’ll be back,’ his mother had said right on this very spot three years earlier. ‘As soon as I can. Keep this and know, know I will be back for my boys.’ Jessie had pushed the silver necklace into his hand and closed his fingers around it, kissing him and then his little brother.
There were days when Thomas thought the necklace still felt warm, the way it had been when his mother had pulled it from her neck. And when he closed his eyes he still could see every movement of that day: how they had stood there, silent and watching, as Jessie picked up her suitcase, pulled the front door shut behind her, walked down the path and got into the waiting vehicle.
Thomas had never seen a car so flash. And he’d never seen such kindness as the driver showed his mother. The driver had stood next to the car and held the back door open for her. When settled at the steering wheel, he’d leaned over the seat to offer her a handkerchief before grating the gears and leaving with a jerk.
Despite her promises, her reassurances, Thomas’s mother had never returned. He was sure she wasn’t alive. She couldn’t be, because if she were, Jessie would have moved hell and high water to come home to her boys.
Why had she left them with this violent man in the first place? Thomas had so many questions.
The clock chimed two and broke his reverie. A grunt from Ernest was all he needed to spur him on. It was time to go.
The door closed with a click. Thomas moved into the night, stopping only to pat Flea, who was straining at the end of his chain.
‘Sorry, you old mongrel. You can’t come. Howard’ll look out for you.’
The darkness was waiting, so he set off without looking back at the house that held both sweet and bitter memories. ‘Every scar has a story,’ he muttered, gently touching his cheek once again. ‘And there won’t be any more from him.’
Thomas pulled his meagre coat tightly around him. There really wasn’t any point; he was wet through. The shelter from the broad gum tree only broke the wind. It didn’t stop the sleeting rain or the cold drips that fell from the leaves when there was a break in the weather.
It had been only a day since he left Nambina and already the autumn weather had turned nasty. The weather in the south-east of South Australia could be like that. Fine one day and incredibly horrible the next.
Still, he had not once questioned his decision to leave—not that he had got far at this point. He was free of his father, and being wet and cold was better than being beaten, he told himself.
He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him he could just make out the asylum, a brooding pile barely visible in the darkness. What if there was an escapee on the loose? He shivered, from fear this time. It was scary enough being so near the gloomy building, let alone coming face to face with one of its inmates.
He peeked around the tree to see if there were any cars coming. Someone would surely take pity on him.
Finally, he saw two pinpricks in the darkness. Headlights. Taking a breath against the biting cold, he walked onto the road and stuck out his thumb. ‘Please,’ he prayed. ‘Please, please stop.’
The car pulled up and the passenger’s door was flung open.
A man in his forties peered from the driver’s seat, his brow creased with concern. ‘What are you doing out here, young man? Get in, get in! Goodness me, you’ll catch your death.’
‘Thank you, sir, thank you,’ Thomas gasped as he scrambled inside. He was hit with a blast of warm air and within moments, his cold fingers and cheeks started to burn as the blood surged back into them.
The man reached over the seat and handed Thomas a towel. ‘Dry yourself with that, lad. What’s your name?’
‘Thomas, sir.’
‘Now then, Thomas. Where’re you off to on such a miserable night?’
Thomas looked at the man’s flushed cheeks and kind face, and clenched his jaw. ‘Away,’ he answered.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s gaze rest on the fading bruise.
‘I see. Will anyone be missing you?’
‘No.’ The word pushed from his mouth as he banished his brother’s memory from his mind. ‘No,’ he repeated, softly this time.
‘Right.’ The man stared at Thomas for a moment, then pushed the column gear into first and let out the clutch.
The car smelt like lanoline and sheep, and as Thomas’s clothes and hair started to dry under the hot air blowing from the vents, the air grew humid.
After half an hour of silence, Thomas’s rescuer spoke again. ‘Looking for work, then?’
‘Yes, sir, I am. Do you know of any?’
‘You’d better call me Mac. What can you do?’
‘I grew up on a farm. I can turn my hand to most things.’
‘Ah, a jack of all trades and master of none.’
Thomas nodded, face expressionless. His mother had often used that turn of phrase. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Mac,’ the man reiterated. He lifted one arm up above his head in a stretch.
Instinctively, Thomas raised his shoulders and hands to ward off the blow, then, realising it wasn’t coming, tried to relax.
Mac eyed him briefly. He lowered his arm and tapped on the steering wheel for a moment or two. ‘Must be your lucky day, Thomas,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way north to a shearing shed. Wool classer, by trade. You can come with me and learn the ways of the shed. The pay isn’t much, but it’ll be enough for you, for the time being.’
Thomas’s stomach constricted. There was compassion in the man’s voice and the boy hardly dared believe what he had just heard. There must be a catch. He waited to hear what it was.
‘Well? What do you say?’ Mac asked, turning in his seat to look at him.
‘Yes,’ Thomas answered, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Yes, please. Thank you.’
Mac laughed and reached across to clap his shoulder, but quickly withdrew his hand when Thomas flinched. ‘Here’s to new beginnings, mate,’ he said.
‘New beginnings,’ Thomas echoed, wondering how he got so lucky.
Chapter 5
2000
Within a few minutes the cramping agony in her stomach began to subside and Laura managed to drag herself upright and hang on to the rails.
At the same time, her hands were on her belly, trying to feel the baby. Gently touching, poking, prodding. She knew it was a silly thing to do. There was no way the baby would be big enough to feel, but she had to do something.
Her breath quickened as another strong pain hit her. Grasping the rails, she steadied herself. After a few slow calculated breaths it passed.
‘Don’t panic,’ she counselled herself. ‘Just breathe and feel.’ With her eyes closed, she assessed herself. There was no wetness between her legs and almost no pain now. Still hanging on to the yards, she looked around and pulled down her jeans just to make sure.
&
nbsp; Definitely no blood.
‘Lucky,’ she mumbled. She took a few unsteady steps with Dash at her heels and Rusty walking behind her. ‘Think I might have a spell at home,’ she said.
She managed to get to the ute and drive herself back to the house.
Howie looked up from reading the paper next to the fire, knowing something was wrong the moment he saw her. ‘What?’ He grabbed at his walking stick to help him to his feet. ‘Laurs, what’s wrong, love? Are you hurt? Let me ring the doctor.’
Laura shook her head. ‘I think I’m fine. Just a bit sore. Got barrelled by one of those flighty ewe lambs.’
‘Where’d she hit you?’ Howie limped closer and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘Stomach.’
‘You haven’t bled? Miscarried?’
Laura felt shock run through her. ‘You know?’
‘Of course I know,’ he said impatiently. ‘You haven’t lost it, have you?’
Laura shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.’
‘Not good enough. Come on, we’re getting you to the doctor.’
Laura had always known her grandfather had an accelerator fetish. He liked to drive fast and today was no exception. Within ten minutes they were at the local hospital.
‘You stay there, love,’ he said, as he struggled out of the car and limped towards the emergency door. ‘I’ll get a wheelchair.’
A nurse returned with him and helped her into the chair. Quickly they wheeled her inside, all the time peppering her with questions.
‘How did it happen?’
Laura told the story.
‘Any pain?’
‘Not now. But I had some cramping while I was still in the yards.’
‘How much time has passed since?’
Laura shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe an hour? Hour and a half?’
‘Right. We better have a look at you. Mr Murphy, are you coming in?’
Laura could see Howie looked uncertain. He’d always been a bit that way when it came to ‘women’s secret business’.
He looked at the nurse and started to back away. ‘No, no. She’ll be in good hands with you. I’ll wait in the waiting room.’ He walked towards the sliding doors. ‘But tell me the second there’s any news.’ He stopped and shook his finger at the nurse.
‘Of course,’ she answered.
Two hours later, the doctor still hadn’t seen Laura, and Howie was ranting like an angry bull. ‘Where’s the bloody doctor? He needs to see my granddaughter right now. Does he know she’s here?’
‘Of course he does,’ the receptionist answered. ‘She’s not in a life-threatening situation. He’ll be here as soon as he can.’ Her soothing voice did nothing to pacify him.
Laura, who was lying on a narrow bed shielding her eyes from the bright lights above, could hear him through the doors.
‘Sorry about Papa,’ she said weakly to the nurse, whose name she had learned was Gillian.
‘Oh, he doesn’t scare us. We get worse than him in here.’
Laura watched as Gillian squeezed clear gel onto her stomach and smoothed it around with the wand of the ultrasound machine. She waited for the nurse to say something, but she was staring at the screen intently.
Minutes passed as Gillian ran the wand around her stomach. It was soothing and Laura closed her eyes, waiting for her to speak.
But she didn’t. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the movement stopped. She opened her eyes in time to see the nurse put the wand back into the holder and switch off the machine. Handing Laura a towel to wipe her stomach with, she stood up. ‘Okay, well, I’ve got the information the doctor needs, so I’ll give him a ring and tell him to come in.’ She pushed a few buttons and a printout began to emerge from the machine.
‘What does it say?’ Laura asked tersely.
‘I’m not sure how to read these,’ Gillian answered, tearing off the printout and putting it in the folder marked with Laura’s name. ‘The doctor will tell you what it says when he comes. Are you in any pain?’
Laura shook her head.
Gillian smiled. ‘Okay, well, I’ll be back to do your obs in—’ She checked the paperwork on the end of the bed. ‘—twenty or so minutes.’
‘Thanks.’ Laura traced her stomach with her fingers, certain the nurse knew more than she was letting on. To take her mind off the unanswered question, she kept talking to the baby in her mind. ‘Come on little one, hang in there. Please hang in there.’
After a long wait, Dr Jones finally walked in.
She knew there was something wrong as soon as she saw his face.
He smiled kindly. ‘Had a bit of a knock, Laura?’
She nodded. ‘Got hit by a sheep.’
‘I’d like to do another ultrasound.’
‘The baby?’ she asked. ‘It’s okay?’
‘Well, there were a couple of things I couldn’t see on the printout. So let’s do another one and see what we can see.’
It was then that Laura understood there didn’t need to be another ultrasound. She knew and Dr Jones did as well. He was just double checking.
Her baby was dead.
‘Is that your grandfather out in the waiting area?’ he asked.
Pulling her eyes away from the doctor’s face, she nodded, unable to speak. The lump in her throat had grown so big, she couldn’t make any sound.
Laura waited, hoping she was wrong. All the worries she’d had about not wanting the child because she had too much to do flew out the window. How could she have been so selfish? A child was a gift. Made in love, and Josh did love her. Why had she waited to tell him?
She shook her head and the doctor queried if she was in pain.
‘No, no,’ she managed. She stared at the wall so she could shut out the sight of him staring at the ultrasound screen. Her eyes snapped back to his when she felt him stop and heard him hook the wand into its holder.
She peered at him, hopefully.
Dr Jones shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Laura . . .’ he began.
She didn’t hear any more. The world receded for her. She could see the doctor’s mouth moving, but there wasn’t any sound coming out of it. When he touched her shoulder and asked her a question, she had to ask him to repeat it. Vaguely she heard him say she’d need a curette and would have to stay overnight.
He mentioned something about counselling, but all Laura did was nod. Whatever. She didn’t care what happened now. The baby was gone.
Soon Howie was beside her, smoothing back her hair. Telling her he loved her and it would be okay. But how could it? The baby she’d carried, that she and Josh had created, was dead. Laura swallowed the tablets the nurse gave her and slipped into the welcome darkness of oblivion.
‘You bloody bitch.’ A bitter tone filtered through Laura’s sleepiness. She tried to open her eyes but they felt heavy.
Her mind raced.
‘How dare you,’ the male voice spat. Laura could feel the fury, even though she couldn’t open her eyes.
‘What? Josh?’ Finally her eyes opened and she focused on the angry face in front of her.
He moved in close and looked into her eyes. Laura recoiled, seeing the hate in them.
‘How. Dare. You.’ His tone was measured now. ‘You couldn’t even tell me you were pregnant?’ His voice rose a notch. ‘What sort of fucked-up woman are you? I’m the father. I have a right to know. Oh, I know what they’re saying. You were hit by a sheep and lost it. But I know the real story. You aborted it, didn’t you? Why?’
He stopped and pulled back as if something had sparked in his mind. Then a twisted smile spread across his face and he nodded. ‘Of course. It wasn’t mine. You were pregnant to someone else. Who? Who was it?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Jim, maybe. Or some other man you’ve had “business” dealings with.’
Laura shrank against the pillows. ‘No,’ she whimpered. ‘That’s not true. I was in the sheep yards . . .’
Now the attack started fro
m the other side. ‘We’ve heard what Howie’s side of the story is. Trouble is, we don’t believe it. You’re a whore,’ Meghan said menacingly. ‘Not his baby? You’ve been sleeping around with someone else. I should have realised. That’s why you haven’t had time for us. Why you’ve been avoiding us. You’ve been too tired because you’ve been fucking everyone else and you got caught out by getting yourself pregnant.’ She glared at Laura.
‘It’s not true,’ Laura, still groggy, tried to defend herself but couldn’t find the energy or the words. She was confused. It was like everything had left her when the baby died.
Gillian appeared and put her hand on her hips. ‘What the hell is going on here?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Meghan, you should know better than to be in here upsetting a patient. You’re a nurse!’
Laura saw Meghan open her mouth, but Gillian held up her hand. ‘I don’t care what beef you have with her. Save it until she’s out of hospital. Now you’d better leave.’ She pointed towards the door.
‘Don’t worry,’ Meghan answered, moving around the side of the bed. She reached for Josh’s arm and dragged him with her. ‘We’re going.’
She had just about disappeared from sight when Meghan stopped and turned back to Laura. ‘I can’t believe you would break his heart and mine at the same time,’ she called through the open door. ‘I can’t have kids and you can. Fact is, its life ended, by your own hand or not, it doesn’t matter. You put yourself in a situation where its life was in danger. As if it didn’t matter. You’ll rot in hell for that. And I’ll be laughing,’ she spat towards Laura.
Chapter 6
1937
Thomas grasped the handles on either side of the Ajax wool press and cranked them up and down, forcing the steel plate onto the wool. As the fleeces compressed, the handles became harder to pump. That was the signal to grab the thick pins and force them through the pack to hold them down.
Deftly, Thomas folded the flaps over, pinned them and opened the door to let another bale thump heavily onto the wooden boards.
Today they would finish the sheep for this station. Five weeks of shearing and he had survived. Improved, learned, grown. The first two weeks had been tough, though. Who knew that working as a roustabout could be so hard? Mac had kept up his encouragement. ‘You’re doing well, son. Look, you’re hardening up already,’ he’d say. He’d give Thomas’s upper arm a squeeze to show his muscles were developing.
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