‘I tried to stay on Nambina—as soon as I left school I spent a couple of years here. That was 1970 to ’72. When Mum died in ’68 the place just didn’t feel the same. I guess that was when I realised that farming wasn’t for me. The most enjoyment I was getting out of life was on the footy field every Saturday.’
Sean picked up the wine bottle. ‘Top up?’
Laura shook her head.
He poured the last of the wine into his glass then continued. ‘Reckon it was Mum dying that made me unsettled. I couldn’t think straight for a while. Anyway, it was Howie who suggested I leave the first time. I’d mucked up something—boxed some sheep up I shouldn’t have, I think. Trying to keep his temper in check, he said: “Your heart isn’t here, son. Maybe it’s best you take off for a while to see if you can find something you really like doing.”’ Sean laughed. ‘I couldn’t believe the timing. A couple of days earlier, I’d met your mum at the pub. Lee was from out of town—had come to visit relatives or something. She’d been travelling for a while and made it sound so exciting. No responsibility, so many things to see, a whole wide world to explore.
‘I talked to Dad and told him I wanted to travel for a year or so, and that then I might be ready to come back to Nambina. So Lee and I hitchhiked to Queensland—she lived up there and was heading home—and bummed around for a while. I always worked, though. Needed the money.’
‘Were you, um, together then?’ Laura asked.
‘Not to start with. I saw her as a good chick. We clicked that night at the pub, but I never looked at her as a potential partner. She was such a free spirit.’ He looked into the fire. ‘Lee was really confident and content within herself—something I wasn’t. I guess that’s what drew me to her in the first place.
‘Anyway, I cooked at a roadhouse and stacked shelves at a supermarket. Then a bloke put me on as a mechanic. Not a real one, but I could change oil in cars and basic stuff I’d learned on the farm, so I did the smaller jobs for him. I enjoyed it—there was plenty of contact with different people . . .’
‘Where was this?’ Laura interrupted.
‘Mackay. And that’s what was so great about the job. I was living on the coast. I went surfing and swimming every day. I felt free. Lee was working as a barmaid, and even though we were sharing a unit at the caravan park, we always did our own thing.
‘Then, one evening just before Christmas, Dan, the bloke I was working for, shouted us both to dinner and drinks at the pub as a kind of Christmas bonus. That was the night everything changed.
‘I believed we’d be together forever, but that was the mistake of youth, I guess. Lee was working, I was working, the weekends were full of good times, mates, the sea.’ He shrugged. ‘Bit like that Bryan Adams song you loved so much when you were a kid. What’s it called? Something about lasting forever and being the best days of your life.’
‘“Summer of ’69”,’ she answered without hesitation.
‘Yeah. Well, it didn’t and they weren’t, but that’s what it felt like at the time.’
Laura noticed Sean hadn’t eaten anything since his first mouthful. The food lay in front of him, untouched and cold.
She put down her fork and tried to work out how she was feeling. Normal, she decided. Safe in the knowledge her dad loved her and that whatever else this tale held it wouldn’t affect her.
‘Then, in 1977, Lee got pregnant. She was excited at first and I was too. I couldn’t imagine anything making my life better than a baby! I suddenly felt like I was an adult, like I was about to be complete.
‘It was then we talked about coming home to Nambina for a visit, but the morning sickness got to her. It was a terrible time. If she wasn’t vomiting, she was lying on the bed with the blinds shut. She kept the house as dark as her moods and I couldn’t do anything right. She’d snap and yell if I suggested she go to the doctor. I ended up researching morning sickness and what natural remedies there were. She had a distrust of Western medicine, so I tried to find natural things. Nothing worked.
‘Oh, Laurs, she did suffer—the whole nine months, and I’m sure now that’s where everything started to go wrong for her. She’d been so sick that, when you were born, she couldn’t bond with you.’
‘Was the birth easy?’
‘Relatively. You were the most gorgeous baby I’d ever seen. I couldn’t put you down. Just wanted to hold you all the time. But Lee didn’t. She didn’t really want you near her. I know now it was post-partum depression.
‘When we took you home, she let me do all the normal things—bathing, changing nappies and so on. Obviously she had to feed you, but she was happy to let me do the rest. I wanted to do it.’
Laura heard a movement: Rip was stretching in his box. Even though she wanted to hear what was coming, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to have something to cuddle, so she pushed her chair back and picked him up.
Sean continued to talk. ‘Then one day she told me she couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t play happy families when there was still a life to be lived.’
Laura’s gaze dropped to Rip and she patted his little head. He gave her chin a lick.
Sean must have sensed her apprehension, so he cut to the chase.
‘That’s when I decided it was time to come home. You were about six months old. Lee said she didn’t want visitation rights and I could do as I pleased, so I did. I came back to Nambina, to Howie. You know the rest. We raised you together, until I met Georgie. You were four, then.’
He took a mouthful of his cold spaghetti and grimaced.
Laura returned Rip to his box. ‘Here.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’ll heat it up.’
He handed her the plate and she put it in the microwave and turned it on.
‘Do you stay in contact with her at all, Dad? Do you know where she is?’
‘No. That was never the deal. I guess we could try to find her if you want.’
But Laura was shaking her head before he’d finished his sentence. ‘No. I wasn’t asking for that reason. I was just curious.’
They were silent for a moment. Then the microwave pinged. Laura pulled out Sean’s plate and set it on the table in front of him. He began to eat.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked after a few mouthfuls.
‘I don’t think I feel anything, Dad,’ she answered. ‘It’s almost like it’s a story about someone else, if that makes sense. Oh, I guess I had a few questions—those ones I asked when I first started school and realised our family wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. Nothing more than that.
‘Talking about it tonight made me curious to hear how it all happened.’ She shrugged, working out how to ask the question that had formed in her mind. With all this talk of other families, she had to tell her father about Meghan, she decided. She picked up Rip and gave him another cuddle before sitting down opposite Sean and settling the pup on her lap.
‘Um, Dad?’ she began hesitantly. ‘Meghan Hunter threatened me at the show. To take Nambina away from us. I don’t know how she could. Do you know?’
Sean was still for a moment before his face lit with anger. ‘Bloody hell, that woman has got some nerve.’ He glared at Laura, but she knew it wasn’t for her. ‘Not a chance, love. I gave up my right to inherit Nambina when we passed it over to you. The drawings we take every week are like a wage. There’s no comeback. I can promise you there is no possibility that Meghan could get her hands on the property. None whatsoever. She’s crazy!’
‘Don’t get worked up,’ Laura said gently. ‘I was only asking the question. She mentioned it once at the show and I’ve never heard about it again.’ She broke off—Rip had widdled on her. ‘Oh, Rip! Do you mind?’ She got up and exiled him to his box before taking off her jumper. ‘Anyway, now I know. And that’s it, really.’
Sean eyed Rip. ‘You may have just disgraced yourself, mate.’ Then, looking back at Laura, he said, ‘You know Georgie and I are here for you, Laurs. You should have told us sooner. We want to help you if you need it.’
; ‘I know.’
The next morning, Laura woke with a bubble of happiness inside her chest. She’d slept soundly, without dwelling on the conversation she’d had with her father. Maybe she would later, or maybe she wouldn’t. All she knew was, she felt good.
She could hear Sean busy in the kitchen and smelt coffee. There was a short, sharp bark before her dad shushed Rip.
Throwing on her dressing gown, she went out and said good morning. Sean looked much more relaxed, she thought. It seemed to her that a weight neither of them had known was there had been lifted.
Laura bent down and rubbed her hands over the pup, then picked him up before heating up some milk and getting the Weet-Bix out of the cupboard. ‘This’ll have to do for breakfast until I get to town and find you some puppy mince,’ she said to the dog. Once Rip was settled, she took the coffee Sean offered.
‘So you never mentioned how long you were staying for,’ she said, blowing on the steaming liquid.
‘I’ll head home tomorrow morning,’ he answered, buttering a piece of toast. ‘That’ll give me a day and a half with Georgie. We’ve arranged to go to the beach down at Glenelg and have dinner there. I don’t start back at the hospital until Tuesday morning. Want to take me for a drive a bit later?’
‘Yeah, I’d love to. And you can come and see Random and the others. Boof thinks he’s not my favourite anymore so he’s got his nose out of joint!’
Sean swallowed his last bit of toast. ‘Are you going to get out of your pyjamas? Come on, Laura,’ he kidded. ‘Is this how you run the farm?’
She threw him a look and flounced off to get dressed. Minutes later she was back. ‘Come on. Tour time.’
They walked out to the ute together, the tiny pup running ahead.
They spent the day looking around the farm. Sean commented more than once how proud he was of what she was achieving.
‘Why did you knock this bush down, though?’ he asked as Laura showed him the new fence.
‘I wanted it to be tidy and it wouldn’t have been if I’d had to weave the fence in and out of it. Best to knock it down. I’ll burn it later.’
Laura could tell he didn’t agree with that, but it didn’t bother her. Sean never questioned her—he asked so he understood, but he never questioned her decisions.
The evening was spent around the fire, eating dinner on their laps and, once again, drinking too much red wine. Laura learned that Poppy had started an arts degree after dropping out of a real estate course.
‘She said it was too hard,’ Sean said. ‘Which disappointed me a bit. She does find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning and get to uni. Only because she’s out so late, listening to bands in nightclubs.’ He shook his head. ‘It worries me, really.’
‘But why? It sounds pretty normal.’ Laura wondered why her father was so concerned. ‘If you’re thinking about what I did when I was twenty-two, you should realise you can’t compare us. We’re completely different people.’
‘Which is part of what concerns me. You and Nicki were so focused on what you wanted to do. Poppy, well, she just seems to drift. Because she hasn’t got something she’s passionate about, it’s easy for her to change her mind and get led in a different direction. She hasn’t got any commitment; she changes her mind so often. If you don’t have direction, it’s easy to fall off the path.’
Laura snorted. ‘Dad, the easiest way to get her to take some responsibility for herself would be to kick her out of the house and make her stand on her own two feet. After all, you had to do that and so did Papa. Most people actually have to work for a living, not bludge off their parents.’
He threw her an annoyed look. ‘I wouldn’t have spoken to you about it if I thought you’d react like that. Georgie and I drummed it into all three of you: your sisters are your best friends. There’s nothing stronger than blood, and one day Georgie and I won’t be here. Be kind and compassionate, Laura.’
The subject was not mentioned again.
Laura told him about the fundraiser she was going to and mentioned that Tim had invited her.
Sean’s eyes lit up. ‘He was a nice bloke when you were all at school,’ was all he said, although Laura could tell he was dying to ask more.
She wasn’t going to say anything else. Tim’s face kept coming to mind when she least expected it and little things reminded her of him, but she wasn’t sure why. She’d told herself more than once in the last week that she’d sworn off men for good.
‘And I think I might play basketball again this season,’ she finished.
‘That’s a fantastic idea, Laurs!’ Sean exclaimed. ‘You were pretty good at it. And it’s great to play sport. All those endorphins and contact with people.’ He leaned back and looked at her. Laura could tell by his expression that he was happy with her news.
Laura had a lovely weekend with her father, but all too soon Sean had to leave.
‘Thanks for coming, Dad,’ she said. ‘I think it was just what I needed.’
‘It was just what I needed too. Take care, my girl.’
‘You too. Love to Georgie and Poppy.’
Sean got into the car and grinned up at her. ‘You never know what might happen if you make an effort with Poppy,’ he said.
Laura rolled her eyes.
‘Just try,’ he said. ‘For me.’ He winked and put the car in gear. ‘See you, Laurs.’
‘Bye, Dad.’
They held hands for a moment, then the car moved away and their fingers slid apart.
Laura watched until long after the car had disappeared. ‘Bye, Dad,’ she whispered again.
Chapter 25
1940
It was October, which made for hot and unpleasant conditions in the shearing shed. But, for Thomas, returning to Mac’s team had been like coming home.
The station they were working on, outside Port Augusta, ran nine thousand sheep over nearly a million acres. It was the first time Thomas had truly understood the term ‘a sea of sheep’. The yards held nearly one thousand head. All he could see, every time he stuck his head outside, was low scrubby mulga bushes, red dirt and sheep. Always sheep.
When they were finally done, they hit the town, starting with the local show. Despite their best intentions, Mac and Thomas ended up gravitating to the sheep pavilion. They spent a pleasant few hours looking over the animals and wool, while the rest of the team sat at the bar and watched girls walk by.
They were discussing the pros and cons of a particular ram when a young lady came in carrying a basketful of white feathers. Everyone in the shed stopped and turned.
‘Not again!’ Mac muttered. ‘Thought we’d moved on from all that.’ He let out a hiss of breath then straightened and stood tall.
Thomas looked with curiosity at his boss. What did it mean? He wanted to ask, but everyone was so quiet and still, he was afraid to speak.
The girl walked around the pavilion and handed a feather to each of the younger men. Some blokes turned and left the shed before she reached them.
‘What’s going on?’ Thomas asked out of the corner of his mouth.
‘White feathers,’ Mac answered, then accepted the one she handed him. ‘Something they used to do during the Great War. The idea was to shame anyone who hadn’t signed up to fight.’
Thomas accepted a feather from the young woman and looked down at it blankly.
The girl stopped to speak. ‘I hope I’ve encouraged you all to join with the men who are already fighting for Australia and Britain. People who are prepared to die for your freedom. I have to wonder what you’re all still doing here. Are you cowards?’ She turned and left before anyone could say a word.
Thomas’s mouth fell open. ‘Cowards?’
Mac tossed the feather on the ground and stood on it. The other men did the same. ‘That’s what they think. But people like us, Thomas—farmers, food producers, manufacturers—we’ve all been told our work is vital for the upkeep of the armed forces here and overseas. The rest of us here at home need to be fe
d too. We have an exemption. We can join the army if we want, but our jobs are important here. She’s probably got a brother or sweetheart over there or training to go.’
He shook his head. ‘You know, I understand what she’s going through. Families get torn apart during these things. I know of a family who lost all five sons in the last war. How do parents, and the ones left behind, recover from that sort of loss?’ He cleared his throat and lit a cigarette. ‘I wouldn’t go if you paid me. Saw what it did to my father and how it affected the whole family. Nup. Not for me. I’ll help class the wool for the uniforms and keep them warm.’ He took a drag. ‘I’m proud of those boys over there and have the utmost respect for them. But I couldn’t do what they do. I won’t do what they’re doing.’
Thomas said nothing. A coward? He felt sick. Ernest forced his way into his mind. ‘’Fraidy Cat Tom’ he’d called him.
Thomas had heard reports of the bloodshed in distant countries but, working in the bush as they did, news was scarce. Thomas didn’t know of half the places the reporters spoke of. The war didn’t seem real to him and it had never crossed his mind to become involved.
They left the rams and wool and moved out into the bright sunlight. The show’s carnival atmosphere seemed suddenly subdued and, while their eyes were adjusting to the brightness, the sun, as if sensing the change, slipped behind a cloud. The children’s laughter was as joyful as ever, but the men were now ashen-faced. Thomas heard snatches of conversation between them. ‘She wouldn’t know anyone’s situation,’ one snarled. ‘I could be an army officer in civvies and she wouldn’t know. It’s wrong, that’s what it is. Downright wrong.’
Thomas and Mac trudged across the dusty ground.
‘I’ll catch you up.’ Thomas stopped to look at a poster showing a man in army fatigues.
Mac stood beside him and put his smoke to his mouth. He regarded the poster impassively before looking at his friend. ‘Wouldn’t go getting any ideas, if I was you,’ he said, turning to leave.
Crimson Dawn Page 18