He put the box on the table and noticed his mother’s nose wrinkle in distaste. He ignored her – if he wanted to put a box of puppies, or kittens, or whatever, on the table of his temporary home, then he bloody well would. He’d wipe the table down before he next ate from it – not that he ate from it; he used plates like a civilised person. What was important right now was the welfare of these animals.
‘You’re clearly busy. I’ll get going and leave you to it.’
‘Okay. Thanks for stopping in,’ Damien said, already distracted by what was inside the box. He really hoped it wasn’t dead bodies. He waited until the door closed behind his mother before sliding the lid off.
Four of the smallest kittens he’d ever seen were huddled on newspaper – one black and white, one tabby grey, one ginger and a dark motley one that his dad would have referred to as prunes-and-custard coloured. Okay, so this was now serious. It was one thing to rescue two roos off his own land after a fire and nurse them back to health, but this was the future. This taking in unwanted creatures, making sure they were healthy, getting them desexed before they went back out into the big wide world. Not to mention educating those out in the big wide world about Esperance Animal Welfare Farm.
‘Okay, little guys,’ he said, stroking them. But, shit, they were tiny, and he knew diddly squat about kittens. They needed milk, didn’t they? But cats are lactose intolerant, aren’t they? He’d read or heard that somewhere. Panic gripped him. God, had he done the wrong thing going into animal rescue? Where was Auntie Ethel when he needed her? He had to pull himself together.
He was debating whether to get out his laptop and Google, phone Ethel, phone the RSPCA, or phone Philip Havelock when there was another knock at the door. Christ, it’s like bloody Rundle Street here this morning, he thought, the stressful situation making him jumpy.
He nearly cried with relief upon seeing his auntie Ethel standing there. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said, ushering his bewildered aunt up the steps and inside. ‘I need your help.’
‘Whatever is the matter?’ she asked, but then peered into the box. ‘Oh, look at you guys, what cuties. So, what’s the problem?’
‘What do I feed them? They’re tiny.’
‘Dear boy, do calm down.’
‘It’s my first real case,’ he said, rubbing a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe how undone he’d become. He really needed to get a grip – for the sake of the kittens, if not for himself.
‘They need formula. Remember, I put a tin in the top cupboard along with instructions and some bottles and teats for when this day arrived?’ Ethel said kindly, patting his hand.
‘Oh, God, that’s right. Maybe you should be running this show, not me.’
‘Fiddlesticks. You’ll be fine. You just need to get into a rhythm. And stay calm. It’s early days. You know you can always ring me – day or night.’
‘I was just about to, actually,’ he said sheepishly. ‘So why are you here, anyway?’
‘Let’s just get these guys organised.’
Damien acted on Ethel’s instructions and soon they each had two kittens happily suckling. Food, warmth, tender loving care; it’s all they need, he told himself. He couldn’t really get it wrong; whatever he did was better than them being abandoned to die a slow, lonely death. He really had to remember that next time, and remain calm. He was cut out for this.
‘Right, now, what’s this I hear about you ending things with Jacqueline?’ Auntie Ethel said when the kittens were back snoozing in their box to which Damien had added some softer bedding.
Damien sighed. He needed an interrogation like he needed a hole in the head. He passed a mug of coffee to Ethel and sipped from his own.
‘Auntie Ethel, it’s for the best. If you know, then Jacqueline’s told you, and you know the full story. I don’t have the energy to go through it again.’
‘But …’
‘But nothing. We’ve gone through the options. This is the only way. I don’t want her losing her career after all her hard work or the town losing its service – I know first-hand how much she can help. And, anyway, the last thing I need down the track is her resenting me for choosing me over her career. I know a bit about resentment …
‘She’s worked hard to be where she is, Auntie, and she shouldn’t be punished. Yes, she stuffed up. But we’ve all stuffed up one time or another. Granted, probably not in such a big way. When we get together, I don’t want there to be any roadblocks or any chance of resentment. I’d wait five, ten years for her if I had to. I wouldn’t want to, but I would,’ he said wearily. ‘So, please don’t make me feel any worse about it than I already do.’
‘Okay, consider me put back in my box,’ Ethel said, raising two hands as a gesture of surrender.
‘Sorry, I’ve just …’
‘It’s okay. No need to apologise. I really just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry for seeming like I was going at you like a bull at a gate. I’m just sad and frustrated about it, which I’m sure is nothing compared to how you’re feeling.’
‘It’s okay. I’m okay. Honest. We’ll get through, it’ll just take some time. Meanwhile, I’ve got my hands full here thanks to my growing menagerie.’ He offered Ethel a smile to reassure her.
Chapter Seven
On Friday morning there was a knock on Jacqueline’s closed office door. Since the Damien and then Ethel visits, she was surprised to find herself becoming a little jumpy when a knock sounded. In some ways she wished she’d carried on with tendering her resignation and coming clean about everything to Doctor Squire, because now every time there was a knock on her door she didn’t recognise, like now, her heart rate spiked. It was ridiculous, she kept telling herself. She was fine. As if anyone out here would figure out about her breach of ethics, let alone care enough to dob her in. She really had to just settle back into life and work and stop giving it all so much thought. At this rate it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
She swallowed and called, ‘Come in.’ Then breathed a slight sigh of relief when Louise from reception entered.
‘Got a minute?’ she asked.
‘Sure.’
She watched as Louise made herself comfortable in one of Jacqueline’s padded vinyl chairs.
‘Sorry to hear about you and Damien not working out.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, dropping her head. So that was how quickly word got around.
‘He’s always been a bit of an odd one – in a quiet, brooding way.’
Jacqueline briefly toyed with telling Louise the truth and defending Damien in the process. Just because someone was careful with their words and used them sparingly, it did not make them odd. But she thought better of it. The fewer people who knew the truth, the safer her job was. And she didn’t know Louise – or Cecile for that matter – well enough to know just how much she could trust them.
She idly wondered who had told her. Only three people knew: Jacqueline, Damien, and Ethel. She knew she hadn’t told anyone else and Damien wouldn’t have said anything to anyone, she felt certain of that. She was disappointed to think Ethel would have gossiped about her – and her own nephew – but she had been pretty annoyed when she’d left the other day. Perhaps she’d needed to vent to someone.
Or, she suddenly thought, relaxing slightly, perhaps no one had said anything. Perhaps Damien had gone into the pub and, with him suddenly appearing again out on his own, people had put two and two together … Jacqueline forced her attention back to Louise, who she now realised had continued speaking.
‘Sorry? What?’
‘Tonight? Tea at the pub? Get you out and about again.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, remembering the telling off she’d got from Doctor Squire the night she’d overdone it out with Louise and Cecile. Though it might be nice to have some company and leave the house for a bit.
‘Just a quiet meal. Promise we won’t lead you astray again,’ Louise said with a laugh. ‘Be good for you to be seen out and about
– show the blokes you’re available again.’
Matchmaking seemed a favourite pastime out here. There seemed to be a high level of suspicion about people who were under sixty and not paired up. Or perhaps it was just Louise and Cecile. No doubt they were settled in their own lives and didn’t have enough else to do, so they meddled in others’. Perhaps if Louise was so concerned about pairing people up she should work on her own circumstances. She refrained from pointing it out.
‘Who’s going?’ Jacqueline asked.
‘You weren’t listening to a word I said. Just you, me, Cecile and Rob.’
‘Sorry.’
‘So, straight after work – five-thirty. I’ll come by and collect you?’
‘Sounds good,’ Jacqueline said, trying to muster some enthusiasm.
‘Well, have a good day.’
‘You too.’
As she considered the closed door after Louise’s departure, she thought back to the last time she’d been to the pub. It was the night Jacob had turned up, and the night she’d realised there was a lot more to Damien McAllister … She shuddered and pushed it all aside.
*
True to their word, Louise, Cecile and Rob took good care of Jacqueline, and she was home by eight. Rob had had a quick dinner – had apparently phoned through his order so it was ready right at six when the pub’s kitchen officially started taking orders – so he could get to his SES meeting on time. The girls weren’t in a hurry, so it was better this way, they said, when Jacqueline expressed her surprise. Yes, maybe it was more convenient for Rob, but it certainly wasn’t polite. She really had to get used to how differently some things were done out here – like everyone being in your business.
She’d spent the first half-hour being grilled about Damien: who had dumped whom and why, et cetera. She’d deflected as best she could and managed to get away with saying it was mutual, that the timing was wrong, what with her being new in town and he being busy with his new venture. Eventually they’d seemed satisfied and gave a collective shrugging of shoulders and moved on to the next topic of gossip – a young lad who’d crashed his car and lost his licence for twelve months. Louise and Cecile had tutted and shaken their heads, but as far as Jacqueline could see, they were operating on a double standard. While they weren’t staggering drunk when they’d left the pub the couple of nights she’d been out with them, there had never seemed to be a whole lot of thought given to driving home, and everyone had had more than she thought would keep you under the limit. Tonight she was pleased to see Rob had only been sipping water – on account of him heading off to SES. But Louise and Cecile had downed three bourbon and Cokes to Jacqueline’s one glass of wine, which was disgusting and lukewarm by the last sip. Oh, well, they were adults, they knew the risks. She couldn’t nag them and come off looking like a wowser. Other than Ethel, they were the only real friends she’d made in town.
When Louise dropped her home – she’d half-heartedly tried to decline the offer, on account of the drink-driving risk, but her fear of walking alone when it was almost dark, thanks to Jacob Bolton, won – Ethel was out watering her front flower beds. Jacqueline waved Louise off and went across the street to say hi.
‘You’ve been out,’ Ethel said, with her hose trained at the base of a rose bush. ‘Good to see you’re not sitting home pining.’
Jacqueline felt a bubble of annoyance burst inside her. ‘Did you tell anyone about me and Damien splitting up?’
‘Of course.’
Jacqueline was taken aback. She’d been expecting a denial, or a confirmation and a sheepish look. Certainly not a cheerful admission.
‘Why? Who?’
‘I told Madge down the road, who is one of the biggest gossips in town, and also happens to be young Louise from the surgery’s gran.’
Jacqueline frowned. Why the hell was Ethel looking so damned pleased with herself? She grew more annoyed. ‘Why can’t you stay out of other people’s business?’
Ethel sighed, went over and turned off the tap, wound the hose up on its reel, and took it back to beside the house. Jacqueline stood there not knowing if she was expected to stay or if this was Ethel signalling she wasn’t wasting any more breath on the topic and their conversation was over. For Jacqueline, it was far from over.
Finally Ethel looked up at her and spoke. ‘Sounds like you need a cup of tea.’
I don’t need a bloody cup of tea, Jacqueline wanted to snap, I need an explanation or for you to mind your own bloody business. But instead she meekly followed Ethel inside.
‘Now, don’t go getting all uppity with me, missy,’ Ethel said, pointing her finger at Jacqueline as she waited at the bench to tend the pot. ‘I did it for your own good.’
Jacqueline opened her mouth to protest.
‘Uh-uh, just hear me out,’ Ethel said, raising a silencing hand.
Jacqueline shut her mouth and clasped her hands tightly together under the table.
‘You need the town to know there is nothing between you and Damien so no one gets wind you’ve done anything wrong with regards your career, right?’
Jacqueline nodded.
‘So, what better way than to get the news going through the oldies and the young ones at once?’
Jacqueline wondered if Louise and Cecile had invited her out of their own accord or been manipulated by Ethel. She really didn’t like all this meddling going on around her and involving her. But she was starting to see it was being done for the right reason. Ethel’s heart was in the right place. But it still rankled.
‘Yes, Louise’s invitation tonight was off her own bat,’ Ethel said, startling Jacqueline slightly. Did the woman have psychic abilities as well? ‘Not that I wouldn’t have pulled a few strings in that direction, too, if need be.’ Ethel grinned naughtily. When that grin came out, Jacqueline could never be annoyed with the old lady.
‘God, Ethel, you’re incorrigible,’ she said, smiling and shaking her head slowly, rolling her eyes as a steaming cup of tea was placed in front of her.
‘Friends again?’
‘Yes, but you have to stop meddling.’
‘Now, that I cannot promise. Not when it’s for a good cause. And you, my dear, are a good cause. But, seriously, it’s one thing for a rumour to go around about you and Damien, but it’s even better to back it up with a sighting, actual evidence.’
‘You make me sound like the Loch Ness monster, or Big Foot, or something.’
‘Well, you are a local attraction.’
As she sipped her tea, it struck Jacqueline that creating the news around her and Damien might have the opposite of the desired result; that putting their names in the front of people’s minds again might get people thinking, and then someone might … No, she was being paranoid. No one cared about her private life – well, they did if you asked Ethel … But still. She reminded herself of a quote she’d heard a few times: No one thinks of us nearly as often as we think they do. Well, she thought that was how it went. And, anyway, whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. She’d done her best to right a wrong situation for the good of all concerned. She really just had to put it out of her mind and get on.
In the next breath, Ethel changed the subject. ‘It’s time you went and did some community talks over at Hope Springs. How would next Tuesday work – seven p.m.? CWA?’
‘It’s very short notice, isn’t it? And I thought they only met during the day.’
‘Ah, doesn’t take much to rally the troops. And they do usually only meet during the day. But I said you’re far too busy now with your growing list to go gallivanting around the countryside during work hours,’ Ethel said with a wave of her hand. ‘It’ll be organised by the CWA – so you can be assured of a good spread! – but it’ll most likely be open to all women of the town and area. Hospital auxiliary, church ladies of various congregations, et cetera. So are you in?’
‘I’m in. On one condition.’
‘Name it.’
‘No, actually, two conditions.’
<
br /> ‘Now don’t you go getting all demanding on me,’ Ethel said.
‘One, you come with me. And, two, you squirrel away a plate of the best sweets and savouries for me like last time.’
‘I have to go – you’ll need a car on account of you not having got one yet. Remember? And on point two, consider it done.’ Ethel clapped her hands together. ‘Good, all sorted. I’ll start properly rallying the troops.’
They lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts.
‘Damien is fine, in case you’re wondering,’ Ethel said. ‘He’s busy with all his stuff. Plus he’s taken delivery of four kittens needing round-the-clock feeding – dear little things. Just when the joey was about to be put on a more convenient meal schedule, too. He’s just thrilled someone had the courage to deliver the little blighters, rather than leave them somewhere to die. He’s going to do great.’
Jacqueline knew Ethel wasn’t having a go at her, and hadn’t actually added, ‘No thanks to you,’ but she still felt the words stab painfully under her ribs.
‘Yes, he is,’ she said, only sure she’d uttered the words when she heard them with her own ears. She was sad not to be a part of it, not to be able to phone, give him encouragement, go out and help with the workload. Four tiny mouths to feed at once must be difficult with just one pair of hands.
When Ethel began yawning, Jacqueline took it as her cue to leave. They hugged tightly at the door, their friendship clearly restored. Not that it had been completely severed, thanks to Ethel’s firm hand.
Chapter Eight
Damien thought back over the past week, and felt a great sense of achievement. He’d settled into a routine and the kittens were doing well. He’d officially named the joey Jemima, having decided running a competition was too complicated and would take too long. The poor little thing was part of his growing family, so needed a name. She was now spending more time out of the pouch. He’d tried to start leaving her for short bursts in one of the smaller runs, though when he’d peeked through the caravan window after half an hour and she was still scratching at the wire door and trying to get out, he’d felt sorry for her and brought her back inside. The last thing he wanted was for her to be distressed. It would be different if she had other kangaroos for company, but she didn’t.
Standing Strong Page 5