Tessa groaned. Realistically, she knew it could have been likely. It had been sloppy of her to leave her phone unattended and, as for mistakes, well, vodka and fine details didn’t mix.
And now all this just gave her a hankering for another shot of vodka.
Biting her fingernails, she read on:
So I believe you’ve got two choices. One, you can come back and clear your name, which is going to be pretty hard, or two, you can walk away and forget you’ve ever been here.
I’m really sorry to be so blunt, sweetie, but you know how cut-throat this business can be. Once you’re out, well, that’s where you are. Let me know what you want to do. And don’t forget how much I loves ya!
Jaz
Tessa hovered her mouse over the attachment. Did she really want to see the other photos? Swivelling around on the chair, she listened for Peggy. The house had gone quiet. Maybe her mum had headed off to feed the chooks.
Tessa held her breath and double-clicked.
Bit by bit, line by line, the photo began to show. The first part she could see was her face – glazed eyes and rosy cheeks. The kangaroo ears she kept for party tricks in her handbag were on her head. John’s gold chain glinted in the flash.
As the photo continued to load, Tessa watched, red-faced as her breast appeared, then her stomach. Looking more closely, she saw that her blouse was undone and John had his hand on her bare breast. Someone had taken a tablecloth and wrapped it around her waist as a kangaroo tail.
Shame flooded through her and the craving for a drink intensified. She drummed her fingers on the desk and her knee jiggled as fast as it could go. She didn’t wait for the photo to finish downloading. She hit the delete button, breathing hard. She didn’t need to see any more. That photo was called a Royal Stuff-Up. And the rest of them would be the same.
With trepidation, she clicked on the email from Darcy.
Dear Tessa,
As per my previous email, you have been given five days to tender your resignation. So far, you have not made your intentions known. If your resignation isn’t received by 8 p.m. this evening, UK time, your employment will be terminated.
Darcy Anderson
Tessa closed that email too. Then she shut down the computer.
Outside the sky was a brilliant blue. With no destination in mind, Tessa just let her feet take her wherever. The day was stinking hot and the birds, which usually sang up a storm, were quiet, sitting in the shade of the trees or close to water.
The realisation of what she’d done hit her hard. She knew she had messed up big time and let down so many people in the process. She knew she couldn’t make it right. All she could do was apologise to Darcy and tender her resignation. But she also understood what a bonus it was to be given the opportunity to resign. This way she could get another job in Sydney, or Melbourne or somewhere that had a decent internet connection, mobile phone range and shops. She didn’t have to stay at Danjar Plains, she could leave.
Tessa noticed a mirage, something she hadn’t seen since she left the Nullarbor. She watched the shimmering air and faux lake in the distance. As she paced towards it, the mirage became closer with each step. Closer and closer.
A story stirred somewhere in the back of her mind. Violet. Afghan cameleers, mirages and water. What was it? A story Violet had told her when she was small. But as hard as she tried, Tessa couldn’t remember.
Then, as all mirages do, it disappeared.
Tessa blinked and looked around. She was at the cemetery. The freshly shovelled mound brought her to tears immediately and she sank down at the foot of the grave.
‘Aunty Spider.’ She sat there with her hands buried in the dirt, trying to channel her sorrow, her thoughts to Spider. Waiting for some kind of message from her aunt, knowing nothing would ever come. She stayed there until her knees hurt. Finally she shifted positions, sitting cross-legged like a kid.
‘What to do? What to do?’ she muttered. ‘You know I completely hate myself, don’t you, Aunty Spider? I’m twenty-four, I have a drinking problem and I’ve just buggered up the best opportunity I ever had. What would you do?’
Silence.
‘You know, I’ve never admitted that out loud? I have a drinking problem. I. Have. A. Drinking. Problem.’ She felt free as she repeated it again and again.
Tessa was sweating – the midday sun was brutal. She’d forgotten how harsh it could be and how fluorescent the landscape was. It hurt her eyes. Shading them, she wished she’d thought to put her sunglasses on before leaving the house. Then laughed out loud. Gucci sunglasses, here, in the middle of nowhere, she thought. Who would appreciate them? Tessa looked down at her colourful leggings and knit top with the gap at the back. They were so out of place here. Twisting on the ground, to get comfortable, she could feel her skin burning where the gaping hole in her shirt was. She’d be sunburnt later.
She got up and went over to sit on Violet’s old wooden chair under the gum tree. The smell of eucalyptus from the dull green leaves and sun-baked earth swam around her. Everywhere on Danjar Plains, she was reminded of her aunt. It was as if Spider were Danjar Plains, herself. The sheds held her essence – the grader she had worked on, the motorbike she had bought on a trip to Esperance. The magpie, as he sang and danced along the ground, to attract his mate, held Spider’s laugh. The stock held her knowledge and the land, her soul. Tessa’s dad had been right – it was as if Spider was still here.
Tessa’s mum had said it was lovely to have so many reminders of such a wonderful woman, such a fantastic role model. But to Tessa, all it did was throw in her face the fact that Violet wasn’t here anymore. Now, Tessa had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She couldn’t explain her connection with Aunty Spider, but her dad had it too. Ryan didn’t and neither did her mum. Oh, they had respected her, loved her, thought she was an incredible person, but they just didn’t have the bond, the invisible tie that seemed to link the other three together. She’d asked her dad what it was once and he’d just shrugged. ‘Can’t tell you, Tessie,’ he’d said. ‘Just something there. You find sometimes you just click with a person.’
After Kendra’s death, it had been Aunty Spider who had convinced Tessa she needed to come back home and visit the spot where her best friend had died. It had been with Violet’s arms around her that Tessa had finally stood at the foot of the windmill. It had been only for a few seconds, but she’d done it. Then they went back to Spider’s little house and Tessa had wept hysterically.
That had been seven years ago and the final time she had set foot on Danjar Plains.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mum; she did with all her heart. But she was drawn to Spider, who seemed to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, before Tessa realised it herself.
She clenched her fists at the pressure rising in her chest and shot up from the seat, trying to calm herself by breathing deeply and pacing.
Suddenly she turned around and screamed into the nothingness: ‘I’m so confused. I’m so bloody confused!’
A crow squawked from within the depths of the tree and flew off with lazy strokes, still cawing. Tessa could hear the swish of wind as its wings pushed through the air. She turned her face upwards, her arms outstretched, tears damp on her cheeks. ‘But I can make it better,’ she whispered. ‘I can. I just have to work out how.’
And with that, a magpie warbled its song.
Back in the office again, she opened the email from Darcy and set about replying, typing Resignation in the subject line.
Dear Mr Anderson,
I realise that I have broken my contract and, in turn, offer my resignation.
I apologise for any breaches that may have occurred, and I take full responsibility. I had no intention of allowing mistakes to creep into my work or compromise your business.
On a personal level, I would like to thank you for the opportunity you gave me. I understand you made many exceptions when it came to my employment and I am deeply sorry I let you and my Aunty Spider dow
n.
Yours sincerely,
Tessa Mathison
She re-read the email, quickly, checking for errors. Just as she was about to hit send, she heard a noise behind her. Ryan was looking at her, concern creasing his brow.
‘Why are you resigning?’ he asked.
A wave of embarrassment and shame washed over Tessa. ‘Do you always sneak up and read over people’s shoulders?’ She hit send and minimised the screen quickly.
‘Don’t get snarly with me, little sis! I don’t think I’m the one hiding something.’ He cocked his eyebrow and crossed his arms.
Tessa knew he was waiting for her to spill everything. Well, she wasn’t ready to yet.
‘You know, Ryan, I have missed you, but keep your nose out of my business,’ she said quietly, trying not to cause offence but wanting to put a stop to any more questions.
‘We spend our whole life wondering if you’re going okay, Tessie,’ Ryan said in the same tone. ‘You’ve had to bear more than any person should in your short life. You being okay is always in the back of our minds, even when you’re kicking your heels up over there in London and living a life we don’t understand. So if we seemed concerned, well, pardon us, but we care.’ He turned and left Tessa alone in the office, chewing her fingernails.
Chapter 10
A couple of weeks into her stay at Danjar Plains, Tessa felt herself begin to relax. She’d decided the new year would be a new beginning, a fresh start, a clean slate and every other cliché.
Walking the perimeter of the house paddock as the sun began to sink, Tessa found she was noticing things she’d long since forgotten. The animals, both wild and stock, were getting ready for the night. Birds flew back to their trees just on dark, after feasting on whatever insects or mice they could find. The sheep and cattle made the slow trek towards the troughs for their nightly drink, a cloud of dust hanging over them. Wedge-tailed eagles soared over, spying a feast, and diving towards the ground with incredible speed and grace. Tessa watched them rise into the air, their prey grasped firmly in their claws.
The sun sank lower and the shadows grew. The Nullarbor became still. From deep in the bushy undergrowth, a cricket chirped – just one – then a whole chorus started up. Simultaneously, a puff of breeze arrived from the sea, so many kilometres away. Instantly Tessa was cooler and the air had a different feel as she took a breath. Crisper, dewy, and not as dry.
Walking every evening had been her saviour. Spider’s old blue heeler, Dozer, came with her, keeping her company. Though ancient, he somehow managed to go the distance. During this nightly routine, Tessa would raise her eyes to the heavens to see the red, blinking lights of jets flying from one side of Australia to the other. Were any of them heading to London?
The first night she’d done this, was the day she’d achieved some clarity at the cemetery. That day she had made a decision not to drink for a week. It wouldn’t be that hard.
But, so agitated by five o’clock, she’d taken herself outside again. Studiously avoiding the side of the paddock where the windmill waited, she’d paced along the fence line, hearing nothing but her own footsteps. On the busy streets in London no one in that city could imagine the space and tranquillity of her current location. When she saw the evening star for the first time in years and years, she made a wish. A wish that her life would change, that the happiness she felt when three-parts pissed could be found in some other way. That somehow she could feel good about herself and get rid of the guilt that was forever inside of her. Find the real Tessa again. She’d forgotten who she had been and who she should be.
Tessa headed up the road that led into the homestead compound. Within these fences were the two houses: the large one where Paul and Peggy lived; and the smaller demountable or donga that was Ryan and Marni’s. As she made her way back towards the homestead she could hear the clang of saucepans and cooking noises from Marni’s kitchen. Ryan was sitting on the verandah nursing a beer. Unnoticed, Tessa stopped and observed him. Ryan was staring towards the horizon, lost in thought. He looked older than his twenty-eight years, much older than when she had seen him last. His face was burned a permanent red-brown and lined with deep creases. But there was something about his expression that made Tessa pause, a longing or wistfulness as he looked out across the flat, saltbush-covered plains. Was he happy? Was Marni? She didn’t seem to be.
Tessa started to walk again, knowing if she wanted to make it back to the main house before dark, she needed to get moving. With a final glance at her brother, she kept going, skirting behind his place between the machinery and shearing sheds until she reached the homestead verandah. As her sneaker touched the bottom step, a haunting sound echoed through the dusk. The howl of a dingo.
A shiver ran through her. She looked behind, her heart racing. Of course, there was nothing. It was a wild dog, nothing else. The animal howled again, the sound lingering in the evening stillness. Without a second thought, Tessa bolted up the steps and inside, shutting the door behind her with a bang.
‘That you, Tessa?’ her mother called.
‘Yes, it’s me.’ She willed her heart to slow and her hands to stop shaking. It was a dingo. A bloody dingo and nothing else. She held her breath for a moment before exhaling in a rush.
‘Could you lock the chooks up, petal?’ Peggy called from down the hall. ‘Those darn chooks of Spider’s won’t go into the shed, so you’ll have to pick them up and carry them in. They still haven’t sorted out their pecking order. I haven’t had a chance to get out there.’
It was the last thing Tessa wanted to do. ‘Um, Mum? I think there’s a dingo out there.’
Peggy’s face appeared in the doorway. ‘There probably is, my girl! I hear one every night about this time. If we don’t get the chooks away, we won’t have them or any eggs! Don’t tell me it frightened you?’ Her mother gave her an inquisitive look. ‘Goodness me, Tessa, you must have gone soft over there.’ She bustled back into the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she said, handing over the scrap bucket and a torch.
Tessa unwillingly took what her mother offered and turned back to the door. Why was she afraid? She knew it was only a dingo. Only a dingo. Not Aunty Spider’s soul, not Kendra’s soul. It was a damn dingo.
But she knew what dingoes could do. They were hunters and she’d seen them stalk and attack in packs. She shivered.
Angry now, she yanked open the door and raced out into the darkness. The lights from the porch gave a few metres of illumination before she had to rely on the torch. She walked purposefully towards the chook run. She soon established that Spider’s chooks had managed to get themselves into the shed, but were not sleeping near the others. The chooks clucked and stirred as she flashed the light over them. Back out in the pen, she up-ended the bucket then, without stopping, she yanked the gate shut behind her, latched it, and ran back towards the comfort of the well-lit verandah.
Just before she reached the house she turned and flashed the torch behind her. Something glinted. She stopped, and pointed the beam into the darkness. Yep. There. A pair of yellow eyes.
Giving a strangled scream, she flew up the steps and into the house. The slamming of the door ricocheted through the night.
Peggy threw a couple of chops onto a plate already covered with mashed potato and vegies. Tessa tried not to screw up her nose – she wasn’t sure how she would manage to eat so much protein and carbs in one hit. In London, mostly she ate salads, chicken and fish.
She picked up a plate and handed it to her father, then reached across for her own.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
There was silence while everyone started to eat. Then Paul put down his knife and fork and rested his elbows on the table.
‘So, Tessa,’ he said slowly. ‘What are your plans?’
Tessa pretended to chew; it gave her time to deliberate. ‘Oh well, I should think about heading back, but Mr Anderson gave me as long as I needed.’ She shrugged carelessly. ‘I’m enjoying being here so I might as well spend a bit of time,’ she
lied. ‘And I’ve got to wait until the plaque he ordered comes from Kal. He wanted to have something in the cemetery that linked back to his family.’
‘That’s nice of him. And we’re enjoying having you home.’ Paul smiled at her. ‘I see you met Brendan McKenzie at Spider’s funeral?’
Tessa’s chewing slowed. ‘Mmm, yes, I did. He seemed lovely.’
‘Lovely being the operative word,’ Peggy muttered.
‘Well, he seemed nice to me.’ Tessa’s tone sounded defensive, even to her own ears.
‘You need to be careful of him,’ Paul said gently. ‘He’s got a bit of a reputation for being, well, a ladies’ man. I’m sure he comes across as nice and charming. But he’s mixed up with a bad lot, Tessa. Just be mindful of that.’
‘Right.’ Leaving her chops alone, Tessa shovelled in another mouthful of vegies. ‘I doubt I’ll see him again, anyhow.’
‘Probably not,’ Paul agreed. He glanced across at Peggy and Tessa caught the look.
‘What?’
‘There was a lady at Spider’s funeral. Her name was Elsie,’ Peggy started.
‘Yes. I met her on the plane coming to Kalgoorlie and talked to her briefly on the day.’
‘Did you? We weren’t sure, but figured you must have known her somehow, because she left an envelope for you the day of the funeral. We wanted to give you a bit of time before we handed it over. Just to make sure you were strong enough . . .’
Annoyance rushed through her. ‘You don’t need to protect me, Mum. I’m fine.’ Tessa threw down her knife and fork and stared defiantly at her mother.
Silver Clouds Page 7