by Stacey Nash
‘Hannah.’ Jase looked up. ‘I was just telling Pop that nothing really happened with the picket lines. It was all a bit of a fizzer.’
‘Sure was,’ Hannah lied, noting the beaded sweat on her grandfather’s brow. ‘It didn’t achieve anything much, except for pulling people together.’
The front door slapped against its frame and Pop flew from his chair, his face an instant red. ‘You!’ he shouted at Cooper. ‘You should know better.’
He turned, reaching for a folded-up newspaper. Hannah dived across the room, snatching the offending paper out of his hand and shoving it behind her back as if that could stop him from seeing what he must have already read.
‘It was nothing, Pop.’ Cooper took the paper from her and tossed it into the open fire. ‘Just media bullshit.’
‘Media bullshit my wrinkled arse, Cooper Burton.’ Pop touched his forehead, pausing for a moment. ‘You’re a disgrace to this family. If your father were alive he’d be tanning your hide, but he’s not, and—’
Pop clutched his chest and Hannah shot forward to support the old man.
‘Call the ambulance!’ she shouted.
Pop grunted, his fingers pressing at his sternum. ‘I’m okay. It’s just a little tight.’
‘Sit down,’ Hannah ordered, then to her mother, ‘He needs aspirin.’
Pop staggered as Hannah helped him into the chair, then flopped back, his face grey. Hannah stroked his hand and listened to his breathing. It was shallow and almost raspy, terribly slow. She prayed under her breath that this wasn’t another heart attack.
‘Here.’ Kate shoved a glass of water at Hannah and held out two white tablets. Hannah took them and turned back to her grandfather, but something was different. Wrong.
The pained expression had fled, and in its place Pop wore nothing. Not a smile, not a frown—just a pure lack of life. Hannah pressed her hand to his chest. It didn’t move. She felt for a pulse. Nothing. Her heart beat twice as fast as if it were trying to make up for his.
‘Hannah?’ Jase asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Get him on the floor,’ Kate ordered.
Hannah jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of Pop’s ankles. Suddenly Cooper was there helping drag Pop to the floor. Hannah pressed on the old man’s chest, but her arms weren’t strong enough. She pressed again. Coop pushed her aside and took over.
One. Two. Three.
She counted the compressions all the way to thirty then exhaled with her twin as he blew air into Pop’s lungs.
Jase shouted in the background, and the twins kept working, Hannah’s fingers on their grandfather’s empty pulse. Cooper’s compressions were perfect. The exact distance apart. One hundred to the minute. Time felt as if it stretched forever while nothing happened. Sweat dripped off Coop’s forehead, splashing against Pop’s chest, trickling down his neck to mix with Hannah’s fear.
Pop’s face didn’t change. His hazel eyes, slightly cloudy around his cataract, stared at the ceiling. His mouth didn’t twitch as it was pulled open. Not even when Hannah cupped his jaw in her hand.
A hand squeezed Hannah’s shoulder. ‘It’s done, love.’
It isn’t done. Pop isn’t done. We’re going to bring him back. Hannah watched as Coop stood and stepped back when an ambo took his place. The guy didn’t take over the compressions though. What in the hell is wrong with him? With anger blurring her vision, Hannah looked at her Pop. At his soft chin, the silly ears he liked to pretend he could wiggle, at his closed eyes. They’d been open before. Now they were closed.
He must have closed them!
She pressed harder against Pop’s pulse point, searching for the heartbeat that had to be there.
‘He’s gone.’ Jase’s voice cracked near her ear and his strong arms closed around her, lifting her right off the floor. Hannah’s head fell onto his chest and Jase dropped onto the long couch, where they held each other and cried.
Chapter 24
Morgan collapsed onto his bed sometime around seven am. A sense of guilt hung over him, clouding his mind with images of egged cars, pipe-bombed mailboxes, hateful words spray-painted on a blue Torana. All crimes he’d committed against Andrew Clifton and apparently Cooper had continued until the kid sought an AVO. He’d been so angry when Cooper dumped a dishevelled and shocked Hannah in his arms that night, that it had warped his sense of justice. He’d encouraged her twin’s aggressive behaviour and somewhere along the line, their retribution had turned into harassment. Morgan knew that now.
He swiped his phone on for about the tenth time in the past five minutes. Still no messages. Not that he expected to hear from Hannah, but he was hoping Cooper or Jase would’ve rung to give him an earful just so he could know she okay. He could have called one of them, but he didn’t want to drag them away from their sister.
Hannah had always held an important place in his life and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d confused things. He’d been away from Mindalby for years, living the high life, and hadn’t thought of her much at all. Yet there he was, back in the matchbox of a town he’d grown up in, falling for the girl he’d rough-housed with like a sister. Did he really love Hannah, or was it pure nostalgia? The country life sucking him back in again? Or worse—was he trying to make some sort of sick amends for not taking care of her properly back when he should have? For chasing down some small-town loser instead of comforting the girl he cared for?
Morgan closed his eyes and drew one deep breath after another. When his body had stopped its pathetic meltdown he swiped the phone awake. Eight-fifteen. Lying there stuck in his own head wasn’t the best choice, so he tapped into his inbox. Work would be a good distraction.
His mailbox flooded with the usual crap. Ignoring the messages from colleagues, the association of counsellors, and his mates back home, he clicked on one from Trinity marked urgent.
Hi Morgan,
Thanks for your prompt reply about the state of things in Manillby. Sadly, I’m going to have to pull you from this assignment early. After last night’s campus fire, all hands are needed on deck for support. We’ve got approximately two hundred students displaced from the dormitory fire and with several still unaccounted for, the need for crisis counselling outstretches our services.
I’ve had travel book you a flight from Cobar. It leaves at two thirty. We’ll sort your car out later.
Trinity Cartwright BPsych (Hons) MPsych (Clinical)
Managing Director
Banish Blue
Christ. Shit. Holy mother-loving—a dorm fire?
He jabbed a finger onto the TV remote, flicking until he found a news channel. Nothing but foreign headlines were on the radar, so pushing himself off the bed, he strode down to the Great Western’s reception desk, where the middle-aged clerk looked up from her computer.
‘Did you watch the news this morning?’ he asked the receptionist. ‘See anything about a fire at Newcastle Uni?’
She peered at him over the top of her glasses. ‘It was horrendous. All those young lives disturbed, and some are missing. I really feel for their parents. Can you imagine?’
‘What’s the quickest way to get to Cobar?’
‘If you take Louth Road—’
‘No, I mean a plane? Is there someone with a crop duster or something I can hire?’
She screwed up her nose, bumping the glasses higher, her large eyes boring into him. ‘Well Glen Murray might be able to help you, but it’s only a two-hour drive to Cobar. I doubt he’d get you there quicker in that rusty little plane.’
‘Thanks.’
He needed to get back to Newcastle. There were literally hundreds of traumatised kids, staff and families. Banish Blue wouldn’t cope with those types of numbers, even with the support of other therapists.
Mindalby’s issues would have to wait.
Chapter 25
The emptiness of the old armchair reflected the emptiness inside Hannah. She’d known Pop couldn’t live forever and that his heart hadn’t really recovered after the
first attack. Still, sitting in the living room, across from his empty chair, it felt as though maybe he’d just ducked outside. That it hadn’t really happened. But she’d seen him wheeled out by the ambos, so she knew he wasn’t coming back.
‘Come on, love.’ Hannah’s mum patted her on the back, the smell of her rosy perfume wafting about. ‘The boys are ready.’
‘I’m not coming.’ She could feel her mother’s frown searing her back, but Hannah didn’t care—she just kept looking at the empty chair. ‘Where did he get that paper?’
Kate sighed. ‘One of the ladies showed it to me at quilting group. She thought I’d want to see Cooper standing up and making a difference.’
Hannah swallowed against the lump in her throat, her head hanging in her hands. The smell of her mother’s perfume disappeared like her footsteps, moving further away. ‘Come now, or we won’t make the appointment.’
‘I don’t think I can.’
The door closed and Hannah sat there, an ache filling the place in her heart where everyone she loved used to be: Pop, Dad. Morgan. Even her brothers. Everything had gone to crap lately.
‘I know you’re hurting, but so are the rest of us.’ Jase’s voice carried from outside. ‘Pull yourself together and get to the funeral parlour.’
His car idled out front while she sat there, staring at the empty chair. The empty work boots by the front door, the worn Akubra on its peg. After a while, and with a heavy heart, Hannah drew herself out of the lounge and walked onto the deathly quiet verandah, but she was too late. Jase’s truck was already fleeing down the drive at least half a kilometre from the house.
He was right. They were all hurting. She’d tried so hard to keep any upsetting news away from Pop. They all had.
Hannah climbed into her ute, cringing at the level on the fuel gauge. Without any shifts last week, she wasn’t due a pay packet, and her bank balance wasn’t looking pretty. She should’ve caught a ride with her brother. His car ran on the same diesel they kept on hand for the farm equipment.
The drive into town allowed too much thinking time. Hannah thought about what must have been going through Pop’s head when he saw that article. She thought about how life would be now he was gone. He’d practically raised the three of them after her father died when she and Coop were only young. How would her mum cope without him? Kate had lost both of her own parents, her husband, and now her father-in-law. With Pop’s wife gone decades before, Hannah and her brothers were all Kate had left.
This time the guilt drove into Hannah’s chest, and she buckled over as she pulled up behind Jase’s twin-cab. She drew in a composing breath and walked into the funeral parlour, ready to give Pop the send-off he deserved.
Jase and Cooper sat either side of her mother in the waiting room.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ Coop snipped as she took a seat.
Hannah ignored him.
Cooper flipped his foot up onto his other knee. ‘There’s a creditors’ meeting today. Got mail about it a few days ago.’
Jase flicked open a Modern Farmer magazine. ‘All we got was a bloody bill for bales that haven’t even been processed. It’s a joke. I ought to invoice Mindalby Cotton for the modules of ours they’ve got sitting in that yard.’
The funeral director, a woman dressed in a black skirt-suit, approached them. ‘You must be Mrs Burton.’
‘Yes.’ Their mother rose to her feet.
‘If you’d like to join me in the conference room, we’ll get started right away.’
They filed in like a line of ducklings, all following Kate Burton.
***
All the questions about music and bible verses and flowers and eulogies left Hannah feeling empty. The funeral director shook each of their hands and told them she’d be in touch. They all left the room together, the boys flanking their mother. Hannah didn’t hang back with her family when they started to chat. Instead, she walked straight out of the meeting and climbed into her ute. Her mood wasn’t suited to company or exchanging pleasantries.
‘Li’l sis,’ Cooper called, jogging over.
She started the engine.
He tapped on the window.
She looked straight ahead.
He opened the door and climbed in.
‘What is it?’ Hannah asked.
‘Wanna come to the creditors’ meeting? I’m a bit late, but it’d still be running.’
‘I’m not a creditor.’
‘Well, wait around and I’ll fill you in afterwards.’
‘Sure.’
‘Good.’
He sat there like he was waiting for her to have the last say, but Hannah didn’t play that game. They weren’t ten anymore.
‘Jase is meeting me at the Ace.’
Hannah rubbed her neck. Of course they were going to the pub.
Cooper climbed out of the ute and Jase took his place. ‘You did the right thing by coming in, Han.’
‘What do you want, Jase? I don’t feel like peopling today.’
‘Mum’s taking my car home. You’re stuck with me till Coop’s done.’
Hannah sighed and pulled away from the kerb.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jase scratched out. ‘I’m sorry for us all, but mostly I’m sorry for him.’
‘Me too.’ Hannah turned the wheel, pulling into the Ace’s carpark. ‘I miss the old sod.’
‘You should give Harris a call.’ Jase cracked the door. ‘See if he’s free. He might come have lunch with us.’
‘Really, Jase?’
He dropped his head back onto the seat. ‘I’m trying to extend a branch, bub.’
‘Morgan and I …’ She didn’t quite know how to finish.
Jase kicked his feet up on the dash. ‘What happened?’
Hannah leaned her head back too. Dimples marked the ute’s upholstered roof, and she felt like crying again. She’d done far too much of it lately. She wasn’t normally a crier but the past two days had wrung many tears from her sore eyes.
‘We weren’t right together.’
Jase’s phone blasted out a ring, and Hannah took the chance to escape. Stepping out of the car, she reached back inside to grab her handbag from under her brother’s feet.
‘No way,’ Jase was saying. ‘We’re not dropping another cent.’
Hannah’s hand closed around the leather strap and she tugged it free of the footwell.
‘Look, mate. You’re not even going to get second-grade quality at that price. No one’s selling for less than two hundred.’
Hannah retreated to her spot outside the ute then began walking inside. Jase could catch up when he was done. If what she’d heard was anything to go by, the Chinese buyer was out and that was bad news in a week that had already burst with it. She pulled open the heavy timber door and let herself into the Ace in the Hole.
Jonno’s face lit up when he spotted her, then instantly dropped into a frown. ‘I’m sorry about your grandfather, love. He was a good man.’
Hannah pulled out the stool and sat down. ‘Thanks, Jonno. I don’t suppose I’ve got any shifts next week?’
The barkeep shook his head. ‘Afraid not. It’s gettin’ quieter by the day.’
Hannah leaned back in her chair, not feeling the need to make conversation. No longer had she settled than Jase blasted through the doors like a whirlwind, all hot, angry and full of air. ‘He fucking pulled the pin.’ He took the stool next to Hannah. ‘After cutting one of the best deals of my life, the sucker turns around and counter-offers his own offer at ten bucks a bale less. Said he won’t sign unless we agree.’
‘For real?’
‘For real, and I told him where he could stick it.’
Jonno dropped a frothing middie in front of each of them and Jase gulped his down. If they lost this whole season then there’d be no payday. They needed that money to settle the pile of bills—the hire of the harvesting equipment, the ginning; heck, even the council rates were due. Cutting into the loan to pay bills was not good business. It would slash
their profit margin on that first, second, even the third jojoba harvest.
They’d signed the papers that day at the bank with Pop using the farm as equity. If things turned really bad they could lose everything.
Jase and Hannah parked at the bar not talking in the way that only people who understand one another can. Hannah nursed that first beer until it went warm. An hour passed. Two hours. They tried calling Cooper, but he didn’t answer.
Finally Jase’s phone rang. On seeing Cooper’s name, Hannah snatched it off the counter.
‘About time that meeting wound up!’
Distant shouting, bangs, clashes. A muffled voice. ‘Cut it … arms …’
‘Cooper?’
Jase looked at her. Hannah shrugged. ‘Must’ve butt-dialled me,’ he said.
She handed the phone to Jase, who raised it to his ear, frowned, then stabbed at the end-call button and shot up off his stool.
The heavy pub door flew open, letting in a chill. ‘Riot at the mill,’ Cody Nossiter panted.
Hannah swung around. Jase scrambled for the exit. She flew after him, clicked the ute unlocked and hauled herself inside.
They screeched down the main street, and swung into the mill’s driveway. An old farm truck sat inside the fence, the driver loading up unprocessed modules with the help of someone on a forklift.
A growing mob assaulted the perimeter of the mill, most of them centred around the locked gates. Hannah’s frantic gaze swept the gathering, until it landed on Cooper, once again front and centre of the fray.
Was saving him from himself her place? Jase beat her to it before she could decide. Barrelling through the throng, he reached Cooper before Hannah had so much as jumped out of the vehicle.
When she reached them the boys were standing toe to toe, both their hands wrapped around a set of wire cutters as if playing tug-o-war. Angry men rattled the gates.
‘What the hell, Cooper?’
‘Everyone deserves their gear returned. Not just those with cotton inside.’
‘Farmers are getting their modules?’ Jase dropped his grip on the cutters, his gaze flicking over the scene inside the mill.