The Farmer's Wife

by Rachael Treasure

  He didn’t falter at her defensive tone, but instead threw back his head and laughed. ‘No. I see you as strength. There are very few women like you. I travel the world and I know there are few like you. And you are awakening too, like I am. That is why your husband is gone. And that is why you and I have been brought together.’

  ‘Sol!’ Ben called out. ‘Want to see my new pup?’

  Bec was reeling from what he said. Brought together? What did he mean by that?

  ‘Ben, we have to go!’ Bec called, confusion causing her mind to spin.

  She wanted to push him further on what he meant, but Sol was already following Ben to Rebecca’s four-wheel drive, where the pup was curled up on one of Hank’s old horse rugs in the back.

  ‘Oh, she is beautiful,’ said Sol, taking her gently from Ben and squatting down next to him. ‘What is her name?’ he asked, stroking the sleepy pup as she yawned and shook her head.

  ‘Funny.’

  ‘Funny? That’s a funny name.’

  ‘I know, it’s funny,’ said Ben, giggling.

  Sol laughed too and Rebecca smiled.

  ‘Take her for a widdle please, Benno, before you put her back in the car,’ she said.

  As Ben ran with Funny on the Rivermont lawn, Sol turned to her again. ‘Shall we say your shifts start at the fodder shed after the morning school-bus time? Then you can finish up when Ben gets off the bus in the afternoon. You name the number of days you can cope with.’

  Rebecca felt gratitude wash through her. ‘Oh, Sol! That’s perfect. Thank you.’

  ‘Bueno.’

  She smiled up at him, her cute nose wrinkling with an expression of enquiry. ‘How did you get to be so kind?’

  Sol looked out to Ben, who was now lying on the grass giggling as the puppy leaped on him and danced around him, wagging her tail and play-bouncing.

  ‘It began the day we lost the twins.’

  ‘Twins?’

  ‘Yazzie’s babies.’ Sol’s expression darkened. ‘She won’t talk about it. But she sees in you the same strength I see, and she needs you. I know you think it is the other way around and you need us in your life. But Yazzie has welcomed you in for a reason. It is you and your beautiful little boys who have brought light to Yazzie. We need you just as much as you need us. She needs a friend like you. Of course she has Evie. Evie was the one who kept Yazzie going. Kept her living. But she needs someone her own age. Like you.’ He opened the car door and gestured for her to get in.

  Shocked by the knowledge that Yazzie had lost two children, Rebecca’s thoughts rushed to the bright, vibrant and beautiful woman. Externally the world would never know she had endured such pain. She was so giving. So happy. But her past must have been so shockingly painful. Rebecca’s heart tore for her. A mother losing her babies. It was unthinkable. Unbearable. She wanted to ask how, but felt Sol closing down on the subject and also on her.

  Not knowing what to do, she reached out and took his hand in a handshake. He stooped and kissed her European style on both cheeks, with a serious expression on his face. As he shut the door, she could tell he was shutting the subject closed too.

  Twenty-six

  Rebecca had to blink twice to come to terms with the fact that she was sailing through the western New South Wales sky on a giant ferris wheel at the Deniliquin Ute Muster. Beside her, Gabs was waving a metre-long salami at the stars. She had bought it on a drunken whim from a smallgoods stall that sat between the country-music CDs tent and a marquee stocked with ute stickers.

  ‘Frank! Frank!’ Gabs called to her husband, who waited for them below in the crowd with Yazzie. ‘Check out Hans, my new boyfriend! He’s no small goods!’

  Good-naturedly, Frank gave Gabs the double thumbs-up, then Gabs slumped back in her seat. Her eyes were shining and her hair stuck up at all angles, compliments of the tomato sauce that Frank had spiked through it earlier at the hot-chips food van. Bec could tell from the way Gabs slurred her words that she was shitfaced. She muttered to Rebecca behind her hand, ‘It’s more than I can say for his tiny todger.’

  Gabs ran her palm suggestively up and down the salami. ‘To think we wasted all that money on Doreen’s Horny Little Devils vibrators and dildos when we could’ve just bought a couple of giant chilli and garlic salamis between us. But to be honest, I’d say smaller is better. Less means more friction action. You know what I’m sayin’? Bigger isn’t better — bigger means a John Wayne walk in the morning. Smaller means get up and go again!’

  ‘Oh, Gabs! You always do that!’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Talk about dicks when you’re drunk.’

  Gabs began running her tongue along the plastic covering of the salami.

  ‘Oh, you two, get a room,’ Bec said, scrunching up her face.

  ‘Don’t be boring,’ said Gabs, who swung the salami and whacked Rebecca hard on the shoulder.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘You vil getz zee senze of humour back,’ chanted Gabs several times over in a bad German accent. ‘Haans vil make you come viz lafink!’

  Rebecca snorted a laugh as she looked up to the bright pinpoints of the Southern Cross, then turned her gaze over to where the big bands were rocking from the back of a giant stage to a mass of hats and blue singlets. The crowd was floodlit by giant lights on the flat, black soil plains. All were gearing up for the big acts of the night when Lee Kernaghan, The Sunny Cowgirls and The Wolfe Brothers would make their way to the stage at midnight.

  The Deniliquin Ute Muster had been on Rebecca’s wishlist for a long time, but with the farm and babies she had never managed to make it. How she had come to be here was a blur, but tonight, for just one night, she had decided she would reclaim herself.

  It was springtime and she was now five months along in what had been an easy pregnancy so far. She’d allowed herself just one sip of rum and a swig of red, but she was happy to roll sober and preggers and watch the fun unfold around her. She looked down from the dizzy heights of the wheel to the people who milled about as small as mice far below them.

  On the drive here, the girls celebrated the fact Bec could be designated driver for the next few months, as they chose other country events to attend.

  For the two hundred Ks before they rolled into the entrance of the muster, Gabs had sat in the passenger seat beside her, downing pre-mix vodka cans. Yazzie had sat in the back, sipping on a bottle of red wine, pulling faces with each swig: for Yazzie, a red bought from a bottle-o in some random town was a bit rough. Frank, next to her, buried under luggage, was happily choofing through a six-pack of beer, grateful to be away from the kids and the farm for a weekend.

  In front of them, a blue Holden plastered in stickers throbbed. It speared the wide sky with aerials of every thickness and length.

  ‘Geez, check out the aerials,’ Gabs had said. ‘You could probe Uranus with that thing.’

  ‘Is that an invitation?’ Frank said from the back. His question was answered with an empty can tossed at him by Gabs.

  ‘Are we going ferals camp or shall we go old ladies and pregnant women camp?’ Bec had asked as they joined the queue of utes.

  ‘What do you reckon, Bec?’ Yazzie said, sounding offended. ‘You may be preggers, but we’re not old ladies.’

  ‘You are all kind of on the cusp,’ said Frank.

  ‘Shut up, Frank,’ they all chorused for the fiftieth time that drive.

  ‘What a load of rot,’ Yazzie had said defiantly. ‘Old ladies, my pert little arse! And who cares if you’re pregnant. It’s not a disease!’ She reached into the front and grabbed the steering wheel. Surprising Rebecca, her strong tug on the wheel veered them off onto the dirt track that led to the main entrance of the ute muster.

  ‘Hey!’ said Rebecca, trying to reclaim the wheel, braking slightly.

  ‘Ferals camp,’ Yazzie said with finality.

  Rebecca had glanced at her in the rear-vision mirror, taking in her golden blonde hair and pretty white shirt. ‘You’re gunna fit right i
n there! You’ll be food dyed in five seconds, Princess Barbie.’

  ‘Bring it on! It was you being the princess this morning! It was a battle just to get you here, you wimp!’

  Rebecca thought back to that morning when she had been working at Rivermont in the fodder shed. She had heard snickering coming from behind the racks.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Bec had called out. After several months working shifts at Rivermont, she was used to random jokes from Yazzie and the sometimes raucous staff. It wasn’t unusual to go out to her vehicle and turn the ignition on to find every single dial on her ute turned full blast, so that the radio blared, the heater fan roared and the windscreen wipers swiped back and forth flat-out in a dry screech. Or she would go to the fridge for milk for her morning coffee and grimace at the taste, only to find Joey had substituted mare’s milk into the container for a laugh.

  She’d stalked along the rows of the shed, following the giggling, and had seen a couple of pairs of legs in cowgirl boots behind the racks. As she neared, she heard a spluttering. She rounded the fodder bay to see figures who could only have been Gabs and Yazzie, standing holding onto each other, with buckets on their heads.

  ‘You idiots! What are you doing here?’ Rebecca had asked, smiling. She tipped off both buckets, their faces red from trying to hold in their laughter.

  ‘Kidnapping you,’ Gabs had said, and with that they’d grabbed her, gripping her under each arm. Gabs shoved a bucket on her head and both girls dragged her outside.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing?’

  ‘You’ve been working far too hard on the farm. Farms! It’s playtime!’ Gabs said.

  When they’d removed the bucket from her head, Rebecca had found herself looking at her vehicle all loaded up. Frank was standing there with a grin, as were Evie, Archie and Ben.

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Well, we couldn’t take the Rivermont vehicles. They’re too flash. The ferals trash them. So we’re taking your shit heap,’ Yazzie had said.

  ‘Taking it where?’ Bec asked, wondering what on earth was going on.

  ‘It’s time for you to give Archie some space,’ Yazzie said, moving over to him. ‘He’s completely well. Aren’t you, Arch? And he wants to live it up a little here at Rivermont for the weekend with Ben, Funny and Evie. Don’t you, mate?’

  Archie had nodded. ‘Yes, go away please, Mummy,’ he said and they all laughed except for Rebecca.

  ‘Where are you kidnapping me to?’ she asked with narrowed eyes.

  Gabs and Yazzie had looked at each other and remained silent for a time.

  ‘Does several thousand utes and several thousand blue singlets ring any bells?’ Gabs said at last.

  When Rebecca heard that they had planned the trip to the Deniliquin Ute Muster from the outset, she felt both overwhelmed by their caring and offended. How could she even consider a trip away right now? Didn’t they realise the pressure she was under? With the farm? The debt? The pregnancy? The silence from Charlie, who barely called his boys?

  ‘No. I’m not going,’ she’d said. ‘I can’t! I have to move a mob back home.’

  Frank reefed open the door. ‘Get in. Dennis Groggan has our farms covered.’

  ‘You are simply in resistance,’ Evie said. ‘Now get in.’

  ‘I’ve packed your bags. I called in this morning,’ Gabs said.

  ‘And I’ve revamped your wardrobe,’ Yazzie said. ‘Candy and I did some internet shopping for you.’

  ‘Now get in!’ Gabs said.

  In the end, it had been Ben who convinced her to go.

  ‘You are the best mummy,’ he had said. ‘But you have to go. I want a bluey singlet. And you’ve been grumpy lately. Go fix up your thoughts.’

  Again they laughed as Rebecca hugged her little men. ‘You know what? I think you’ve been Evie’d,’ she said to Ben, looking up at the old woman and pulling a face.

  Evie had smiled at her. ‘Yazzie needs some time out too,’ she said. ‘This place will be crazy before the race and breeding season completely kicks in. So get going.’

  There had been an undertone to Evie’s voice. Rebecca sensed it. It must be nearing the anniversary of the twins’ death perhaps? So, with that in mind, Bec had climbed into the driver’s seat and shouted, ‘So? What are you all waiting for?’

  Now, several hours later, here Bec was feeling like she’d been beamed down from a different planet.

  ‘Geez, I’m going to piss myself if I don’t get off this thing soon,’ Gabs said as the ferris wheel took another pass and rose again. Then she listed sideways onto Rebecca’s shoulder, snuggling her salami to her chest. ‘Yaknow I loveya,’ she mumbled.

  Rebecca wondered if Gabs was talking to her or the salami, but before she could ask, she realised the mad drunkard was asleep. Rebecca looked down at her friend, who stank of tomato sauce and spilled rum, and smiled. Settling back with Gabs’s weight on her, she let the ferris wheel take her round and round in the inky night sky as more memories of the last couple of months on Waters Meeting and life without Charlie — just her and the boys — unfolded in her mind. At last she felt equilibrium was found beneath the star-dusted sky.

  Soon the ferris wheel was drawing to a stop and the attendant was opening the white wire cages to let them out.

  Gabs was suddenly startled awake and, without missing a beat, she was on her feet and clambering into Frank’s waiting arms on the platform, dragging Hans with her.

  ‘Tattoos!’ she said, holding up the salami. ‘Hans here is going to get a tattoo!’

  ‘You have got to be joking!’ Frank said, but Gabs was off, Yazzie and Bec following in her wake.

  ‘They’re only temporary,’ Gabs said in all seriousness, as she plonked down inside the tattooist’s tent with her one-metre salami dangling between her legs. ‘I reckon we get a butterfly on him. That’ll impress the chicks. Let ‘em know he’s the sensitive type.’

  Rebecca smiled, suddenly utterly grateful she had come.

  Just then her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Charlie: Heard you went to the muster. What kind of mother goes boozing and leaves her kids behind, especially with one just out of hospital?

  Rebecca felt stung. It was late at night and here he was texting. She knew he’d be at the local pub, drink-driving back to his mother and father’s farm like he used to in the old days. It was the first time she’d heard from him in weeks. Either Muzz or Janine must have blabbed. Bloody gossipy district. She pressed delete on the phone and shoved it back in her pocket.

  ‘Bugger it. I’m going to get a tattoo too,’ Bec said. ‘Barbed wire. Coz I feel so friggin’ fenced in.’

  ‘Oh no you won’t,’ Yazzie said, grabbing her arm. ‘That was him on the phone, wasn’t it? Don’t you dare slip into old patterns. This weekend we’re both flying over fences! Here,’ she said, jabbing her finger at the display board, ‘get a horse. They’re a symbol of freedom! And I’m getting those two birds with the “Eternity” heart. You know it’s their birthday today. They’d be turning five, same as Archie.’

  Bec shut her eyes, suddenly hit by the moment. Yazzie had endured so much too. There was no point being angry over Charlie. She stood up straight and smiled at Yazzie. ‘OK. Freedom it is for me. Eternal love for you.’

  ‘And you are going on a negativity diet! No more from this moment!’

  ‘That’s a deal,’ Bec said.

  ‘The night is but young,’ Yazzie said, giving Rebecca a wink, ‘and I have a feeling your life is about to begin!’

  Twenty-seven

  As midnight approached at the Deni Ute Muster, people in their hundreds converged in front of a giant stage where Tassie country rock band The Wolfe Brothers was causing the best kind of scene. Yazzie, who had been badgered by so many boys all evening because of her blonde pretty-doll looks, had taken herself off to the campsite alone, but before going she had urged Rebecca to stay on.

  ‘Keep playing on the plains, Bec!’ she had said, her eyes gleaming under the big l
ights. ‘Make the most of it! I don’t have my children to face with a hangover and battle scars. I can party any time, but you’ll be back to reality tomorrow, so live for this moment, now.’

  Bec had watched Yazzie weave her way past the Bundy Bar and the mechanical bull, the blunt-cut ends of her straight hair shining against the black jacket she was wearing. She looked so elegant and petite in this rough-and-ready place. Rebecca felt a surge of gratitude towards her and also the swell of grief that it was her twins’ birthday. Tonight was the first time she’d even mentioned them. Bec knew it was a big moment for Yazzie letting her in, getting close. Her friend hid her scars by making everyone else the focal point.

  Throughout the night, Yazzie had been like a makeup artist, stopping from time to time to gloss Rebecca’s lips and fluff the blonde wavy hair that fell prettily from beneath her hat.

  The night was warm so she had traded the cute little brown top Yazzie had bought her for a hot pink Deni Ute Muster singlet that she’d bought from the merchandise truck. She no longer felt lumpy, mumsy and self-conscious about her body. The work on Waters Meeting and in the fodder shed meant her arms were toned and strong again. Her baby belly was barely showing over the top of her leather belt. She looked a little thick in the waist, but that was it. She was in good shape and her cleavage was something to gasp at, rounded with pregnancy hormones. Her verve and energy, generated by her new thoughts and changed lifestyle, meant she looked fit and gorgeous — and she was getting plenty of attention for it.

  Some pimple-faced young clown had passed her, saying, ‘Nice rack.’ Then another: ‘Howsabout it, blondie?’

  She was enjoying being in the pulse of fun-loving, daggy and unpretentious energy that was unique to a country crowd. Then suddenly Gabs was leaping on her back, flogging her with the salami as if riding her home in the Melbourne Cup. Laughing, Bec found herself drawn like a moth to the bright lights at the front of the stage in a crush of boozy bodies, where the music was rocking out. There she danced with Frank and Gabs.