by Mandy Magro
He also couldn’t wait to get out on the land and get his hands dirty, see the fruits of his labour as the land gave back to him ten-fold. He knew that would have to be done in his spare time, around the job he’d need to find soon so he didn’t eat into the money Lottie had left him, which was already dwindling after paying for feed for the animals and the day-to-day running costs of the farm over the past few months. Hopefully the carpentry apprenticeship he’d completed six months before being sent to the slammer would land him a job pretty quickly.
An hour into the journey the concrete jungle was far behind him, and it felt great. It had been wonderful spending time with Faith, but there was no way he’d ever be able to live in a buzzing metropolitan hub like she did. Faith had always been the opposite of him, preferring the city to the country any day. Although an intriguing place, a few days in the thick of the constant noise and Ronny had been itching to get into the serenity of the bush. Their trip to the beach had been enjoyable, though. He’d imagined the ocean washing away the shit of the past eight years every time he’d dived beneath the crashing waves. Feeling the fine white sand between his toes had been absolute ecstasy – meditation with his eyes open. He found so much pleasure in the smallest of things now. It was as though prison life had made all his senses more aware.
Gazing out the window of the Greyhound bus, Ronny drank in the glorious countryside, admiring the scribbly gums and sunshine wattle stealing the limelight among thick bushland backdropped by walls of sandstone. The sheer drops made him feel as though he was on the edge of the world and gave him a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. The blue haze lingering above the mountaintops that soared as if determined to kiss the heavens was the reason the Blue Mountains had got their name, the eucalypt trees emitting an oil that appeared blue in the sunlight. Every which way he looked, the panoramic views dominated the horizon and took his breath away. This part of New South Wales was a place of undeniable beauty. The deeply incised sandstone plateaus, the spectacular cliffs, gorges and valleys, ignited a fire in his heart that had long ago been extinguished by the confines of jail, and it was damn good to feel his passion for the land he’d once called home rekindle.
The turn-off to Wentworth Falls alerted Ronny he wasn’t too far from Bluegrass Bend. A bolt of exhilaration shot through him. Next would be Leura, Kooloy and then twenty minutes after that his new hometown, Bluegrass Bend. His stomach back-flipped with what lay ahead – how was he going to feel, knowing his grandma was no longer here? Before he had time to contemplate it too deeply, the Leura turn-off flashed past and they were heading through Kooloy. Ronny pressed his face against the window as his heart picked up pace, wanting, needing, to take every single detail in. To his surprise, not much had changed. Even the pub he used to frequent with his mates looked the same. A few of the shops had gone, replaced by bigger stores, and there were a few more touristy-looking cafes, but other than that it was the Kooloy he remembered. And, unexpectedly, he felt nothing, no sentiments or ties to the place at all. He thought about this for a few moments, wanting to understand his reaction, or lack of. He gathered it was because all his loved ones had gone into the next life, leaving just a town in their wake. That’s all he could put it down to. And he was more than happy to leave his past here, where it belonged.
Twenty minutes later a sign stated they were entering the village of Bluegrass Bend, 1080 metres above sea level and with a population of 8300. From the second Ronny laid eyes on the township he was captivated, the place as picturesque as he remembered it. Charming cottages adorned the streets, most of the gardens meticulously manicured. Cherry tree–lined nature strips gave way to stone footpaths adorned with pot plants, the shrubs and flowers within them colourful and flourishing. Each shopfront showcased the rich tapestry of the slightly eccentric town: clothing boutiques, a bookshop, antique shops and cosy cafes were scattered among the necessities, all with the magnificent Secret Valley as their vast backyard. It was such a welcome respite from the shopping malls Faith had made him traipse through all day yesterday in search of his wares. The people on the footpaths in town were unhurried, relaxed looking, the feel of the place very unlike the rushed city streets; this was definitely Ronny’s kind of town – laid-back, countrified, and unpretentious. For the umpteenth time that day he smiled again to himself, forever grateful to his great aunt for giving him such an amazing opportunity. What a beautiful place to be calling home.
The bus pulled into a cul-de-sac at the back of the local train station. As it came to a stop, Ronny almost leapt from his seat, pulling on his jacket and hat, every inch of him longing to get off and breathe in the pure mountain air. Patiently, he waited for the people in front of him to gather their things and step from the bus, his guitar case at the ready. Finally, it was his turn. He breathed in the crisp, untainted air as his boots hit the ground and his soul exhaled. He felt as though this was his first decent breath in years. Although it was the middle of summer it was just eighteen degrees today, typical of the mountains, and the icy breeze made it feel even colder. Tugging the collar of his jacket up and around his neck, Ronny approached the bus driver, who was unloading the luggage, the sharp, fresh scent of impending rain lingering in the air, making him look forward to many cosy nights by the fireplace at Sundown Farm while snowflakes covered everything outside.
‘Oi, Ronny, over here, mate.’
Turning as he slung his bag over his shoulder, Ronny beamed, spotting Larry leaning up against a bush-beaten tray-back LandCruiser, with what was clearly Sundown’s farm dog, Jessie, tied up in the back. The bloke was hunched a little more from his years spent in the saddle, a lot more weathered looking and a lot greyer than Ronny remembered, although his hair was just as thick and wild as ten years ago, but it was unmistakably Larry Smith, his trademark up-to-no-good grin so wide it made his eyes crinkle deeply at the corners.
Ronny took a few steps towards him, smiling. ‘Hey mate, how’s tricks?’ He held out his hand and Larry shook it so hard it made Ronny feel as though he was holding onto a jackhammer. Larry’s sixty-eight or so years certainly didn’t stop him from being on the ball.
‘I’m alive and breathing so I’m great, no damn use complaining ’cause no bastard wants to hear it anyway.’ Larry released his vice-like grip and gave Ronny a friendly slap on the arm. ‘It’s so bloody good to see ya.’ His unkempt eyebrows met in the middle. ‘Ya haven’t been taking that steroid junk in jail though, have ya? You’ve almost doubled in size since I seen ya last.’
Ronny grinned. Larry had never been one to shy away from saying what was really on his mind. And that’s exactly why they’d gotten on like a house on fire from the second they’d met. Larry was the salt of the earth, a man Ronny could trust with his life – the only man Ronny had ever been able to truly rely on for anything.
‘No way, mate, wouldn’t touch that shit if you paid me, I just didn’t have much else to do in there, other than read or go to the gym.’ He tossed his bag in the back of the ute as he eyed Larry’s crocheted multicoloured jumper – not something the Larry from days gone by would have been caught dead in. ‘And by the way, nice jumper, mate.’
Larry struck a pose, resembling not so much a model as someone who’d just been hit by lightning. He grinned as he rubbed the slight podge around his middle – another new thing for the stick insect Larry had always been. ‘I’ve made me some special friends in the CWA. They’ve been taking real good care of me since Lottie left us, bringing me food and just popping in for a cuppa and a chat. It’s been nice companionship for an old codger like me – I’ve really missed your great aunt’s company.’ Larry rubbed his eyes and sniffed as if warding off tears. ‘So, to cut a long story short, I volunteered to do a bit of gardening around the hall they use and in return the lovely ladies made me this – and the yummiest lemon meringue pie I’ve ever sunk my false teeth into.’
‘Good on you for helping them out,’ Ronny said with a smile, recalling how much of a ladies’ man Larry
had always been. He mightn’t be the best-looking bloke around, and his age probably didn’t help, but his charm always won the women over. ‘Any extra special ladies in these newly made friends?’
Larry’s mouth twitched as though he was fighting a smile. He wriggled his eyebrows. ‘Let’s just say there might be …’ His lips broke into a stupid grin.
Larry certainly looked like a man in love, something Ronny thought he’d never see when it came to the usually hard-as-nails commitment-phobic Larry Smith. He gave him a friendly slap on the back, mischief written all over his face. ‘Good on ya, Smithy, it’s about time you settled down and got married, maybe had yourself some mini Smithies.’
Larry coughed as though choking on Ronny’s words, then burst into snorts of laughter. ‘Whoa, slow down there, cupid. I reckon we’d all agree I’m way past having me any ankle-biters.’
‘True with the ankle-biters, but you’re never too old to tie the knot.’
‘Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves here – it’s all just for fun,’ Larry muttered, the dreamy expression on his round face betraying him.
Jessie gave a short sharp bark, as though saying hello, her tail going round and round like a helicopter blade and her jowls stretched into a wide canine grin. Ronny leant in and gave her a ruffle behind the ears. She was tethered to the back of the ute by a rope thick enough to moor a yacht, which made him laugh – Larry always having been a stickler when it came to the safety of his animals. ‘Hey there, girl, nice to finally meet you. Lottie used to mention you all the time in her letters to me.’
Jessie snuck in a lick to his cheek and Ronny laughed again as he rubbed the slobber off with the back of his hand. The dog sat and stared at him as if waiting for a command, like she somehow knew he was her new owner.
Ronny smiled at her. ‘You can lie back down, girl.’
Jessie did as she was told, her tail thumping against the tray of the ute as she watched Ronny jump into the passenger seat of the LandCruiser.
Larry headed around to his side, nodding in Jessie’s direction. ‘Bloody good dog, she is, too damn clever for her own good most of the time.’
Ronny popped his guitar case between his legs before tugging on his seatbelt. ‘I’m so glad you’re staying at Sundown, Larry. It’s gonna be nice to have a familiar face around, and priceless to have someone who knows the place like the back of his hand.’
Larry flashed Ronny a smile. ‘Really? I was a bit worried you’d be wanting the place to yourself. I kinda felt if I stayed, I’d just be getting in the way.’
Ronny shot him a look of absolute astonishment. ‘As if, Larry. You’re like an uncle to me. I’m gonna love having you about the place. I’d be insulted if you left, especially seeing as Lottie wanted you to stay.’
‘Well, that’s just made me real happy to hear.’ Larry grinned.
Ronny grinned back at him, feeling on top of the world.
***
Ten minutes later, driving through the wrought iron gates of Sundown Farm, Ronny experienced a warm rush of homecoming from the tips of his boot-covered toes to the top of his head. This beautiful place was now his home. Forever. He’d never had a forever home. It was the best feeling in the world. He still half expected Lottie to run out and greet them on the front verandah, her flour-dusted apron tied around her plump hips, her genuine smile bright enough to lighten his darkest of days. It saddened him beyond words that she wouldn’t be there to take him into her arms and hug him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. At the very least, by being here, by making this place his home, he would have a piece of Lottie with him always – although he would give it all back in a heartbeat to have her alive again.
With proud eyes he surveyed the land before him, rising and falling like a gentle ocean. Lush, green and fertile, Sundown Farm was a country-lover’s dream. Radiant afternoon sunlight bathed the land in its warm glow, the golden rays creeping to every nook and cranny of the place. Apple trees lined the gravelled driveway that led to the three-bedroom cottage, the fruit dangling from the branches a work of art. And no, they weren’t all shiny, they were misshapen and different in size, and some probably had brown spots and the occasional worm, but they were real apples. No dangerous chemicals – Lottie never used harsh chemicals around her farm. This was fruit straight off the tree, and Ronny would be savouring each and every one.
Built on a gentle rise that sloped away gradually on every side, the timber cottage finally came into view. Many years ago the paint would have been smooth and unbroken, and the window frames would have been brilliant white upon the new wood. Now weathered over the years by the elements, the old relic of a farmhouse spoke volumes about hardships and hope, strength and vulnerability. With its rusting roof and slightly sagging porch surrounded by colourful manicured gardens, it resembled a house well lived in but also very well loved. Although it couldn’t be described as magnificent, it had an early settlers kind of charm that was extremely appealing to Ronny.
Pulling up out the front, Larry left the LandCruiser running. ‘I’m just gonna head back to my place for a bit. I’ve got a load of washing to hang out and I wanna catch up on the footy scores. And I reckon it’d be good for ya to have a look around the place without me tagging along like a bad smell too.’
Ronny slipped his seatbelt off. ‘Yup, okay, mate. No worries at all.’
‘Wanna catch up over a barbecue dinner tonight? I’ve taken some snags out of the freezer, and grabbed a tub of Mrs Crocket’s finest potato salad and coleslaw from town, and I’ve even got some leftover chocolate mud cake that Shirl dropped off yesterday too.’
‘Who’s – oh, your new extra special friend. Yup, sounds good to me.’ Ronny grinned wickedly at Larry before he jumped out, grabbing his guitar case before he shut the door. He retrieved his bag from the tray.
Larry leant out his window. ‘Ya might as well take Jessie with you. She basically lives here at the cottage anyway … refuses to sleep down at my place. I reckon it’s because she feels close to Lottie here.’ He pointed to the backyard. ‘She’s got a dog bed on the back verandah, and her food and water bowls are out there too.’
‘Righto.’ Ronny undid the clasp attached to Jessie’s collar, his heart aching for her. Jessie clearly missed Lottie as much as he did. The dependable pooch waited for her cue to jump off. He whistled and threw his thumb to the side, and Jessie hightailed it over the back of the tray. Landing on the ground with a thump, she scuttled to his side. Ronny beamed down at her. It felt damn good to have a dog by his side again.
‘I’ll catch ya back here around six, mate, and in true dinky-di style I’ll bring beer too.’ Larry spun the LandCruiser around and headed down the dirt track that led to the workers’ quarters. He braked suddenly and a cloud of grit and gravel flew out from his tyres. Hanging his head out the window, Larry grinned and pointed towards the cottage. ‘Oh, and I forgot to mention, watch out for Miss Cindy Clawford in there … she tends to catch ya out when ya least expect it! She’s pretty harmless, but my God, she can be a loose cannon at times.’
Ronny adjusted his sunnies, the glare bouncing off Larry’s back window making it almost impossible to see. ‘Who in the hell is Cindy Clawford?’
‘Lottie’s cat. Someone brought her around about six months ago, saying the moggy was too much of a handful and if Lottie didn’t want her then they’d have to get her put down.’ He smiled warmly. ‘And of course, Lottie took her in, being the beautiful woman she was.’
Ronny returned the smile. ‘That’s our Lottie.’ Oh shit. He’d never been a cat person, but by the sounds of it he was going to have to quickly learn to be one.
‘Yup, Lottie was certainly one in a million. Cindy’s bowls are in the laundry and there are some cans of cat food in the cupboard. I’ve been giving her a feed every morning and night. The little bugger eats like a horse. And she doesn’t need a kitty litter tray, she makes her own way out the cat door for her dirty business.’ Larry slapped the outside of his door. ‘Right, this time I
’m really going …’ And he was gone before Ronny could say ‘see ya’.
Ronny stood in front of the homestead, bag in one hand and guitar case in the other. What was in his hands used to be all that he owned and now before him was more than he’d ever imagined possible. He was overawed that this was now his home. Jessie danced at his heels, her brindle coat merging with the dappled shadows cast by the towering blue gum trees alongside the cottage. The distinctive squawking of galahs grabbed Ronny’s attention and for a brief moment he looked skywards, recalling Lottie telling him the early settlers used to make them into parrot pies. He didn’t know if she was pulling his leg – Lottie was always up for telling a good yarn – but a bit of investigating on Google had confirmed her story.
Stepping through the little gate that led down the pebbled garden path, Ronny took in the quaint garden with its mix of roses, lavender and natives, including waratahs – it was so very Lottie to give anything that could have life the best life possible, and that included her beloved gardens. He noticed a pile of wood resting against the side of the house, and opposite that a vegetable and herb garden. Larry had cleared the beds of weeds, and Ronny was keen to get it up and running again. He’d make sure to grow enough to supply Larry with all he needed too. On the other side of the cottage the little lean-to carport drooped, as though the fight had left it and it could no longer stand up for itself against the elements. Ronny made a mental note to repair it before it collapsed on the Kingswood parked beneath it.
Climbing the front steps, Ronny placed his guitar case and bag on the couch near the front door and Jessie jumped up beside them, lying down for an afternoon snooze in a spot that was moulded to her form. He was certain he’d be doing the same thing himself on the odd lazy afternoon. Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, he turned slowly while he surveyed the land spread out before him. The view from here seemed to stretch out forever, the tranquillity making him feel as though he was standing on top of the world. Lottie and he had spent many a night out here, gazing at the stars and just talking over a glass of rum, or three. Those were the days.