The Farmer's Wife

by Rachael Treasure

  When Charlie first walked into the kitchen, he brought with him the memory of the last night she had seen him in this place. She caught her memory with a sudden gasp: slammed up against the kitchen cupboard, his spittle on her face, the taste of blood in her mouth, his fury tearing up the room and her heart. She folded her arms about her chest, noticing how his eyes slid from her face to her pregnant belly. His mouth twitched in distaste. She wanted to yell that it was his baby, but instead she just muttered ‘hello’, not able to look long at his cold expression. Mick soon bumbled in behind with a too loud, ‘G’day, sis.’ He put his briefcase on the table, then made a show of kissing her on the cheek and squeezing her upper arms. She wanted to punch him.

  ‘Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘Not for me,’ said Mick.

  ‘Me either,’ said Charlie.

  Both men dragged kitchen chairs out and sat down, Mick flicking open his briefcase and taking out a neat stack of manila folders. He tried to make small talk, but he could clearly tell Rebecca wasn’t up for it.

  ‘Shall we get down to it?’ he asked eventually, his dark eyes only briefly looking up from his paper-shuffling. He was a businessman after all and time was money.

  Rebecca pulled up a chair. ‘Get down to exactly what?’ she said frostily.

  ‘Now there’s no need to be like that. This is business. You know that, Rebecca.’ He slid a folder over to her. ‘This is your copy. In it is Dad’s will and details of the estate. I’ve flagged the bits relevant to the divorce. Also there’s a copy of the land titles for both Waters Meeting and the cattle runs up top.’

  Rebecca opened the file, the typed words swimming on the page in front of her. All the clarity she had gained in saving Waters Meeting from the banks, in planning to buy out Charlie and making a life on a regenerated property with three small children began to dissipate as Mick’s words fell like bombs in a blitz.

  ‘Firstly,’ Mick pointed out, ‘is the clause in the will that states Waters Meeting only stays whole and in a family estate if you remain Charlie’s wife.’ He glanced up to see Rebecca’s reaction. When she sat bolt upright at the kitchen table and remained silent, he continued on, ‘If divorce occurs, then the property shall be split between the remaining children of Harry Saunders. That would be you, Rebecca, and me, Mick.’ He was spelling it out to her as if she was a baby. She felt the colour in her cheeks rise. She realised now she had been stupid to not look closer at the legalities of splitting with Charlie. But she had trusted the men in front of her.

  She stared at Charlie; his eyes flicked over her briefly. There seemed to be no guilt, only a fury within him. He reached towards Mick’s pile of documents and pulled out a red folder on which he’d scribbled Divorce Papers in permanent marker. He virtually threw them at her. ‘They’re ready to sign,’ he said.

  Rebecca sat staring at the folder as Mick filled up the space of her silence.

  ‘There will be plenty after the sale for you and the boys, even after you’ve cleared the farm debt and given Charlie his half,’ Mick said, looking across at her. He tried to sound soothing, but he was looking at her as if she was an irritation.

  ‘Sale?’ Rebecca blurted out. ‘You can’t sell the farm? Mick?’ She looked at him desperately.

  He frowned. ‘You can’t expect Charlie to have worked so hard on this place and not get anything for it. He needs a share of the assets.’

  ‘But to sell it? Can’t you give me and the boys time to pay him out?’

  Mick pulled a smile with his mouth, but narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Surely you didn’t think you could sit on all this and not share it with your family? And as if you can pay him out. This place is going down the gurgler.’

  One after the other he launched words at her that battered her, cannonballs of devastation, so that when he was done, Rebecca felt her body shaking right from her very core. But somewhere within she felt the mama-bear inside her rise. She narrowed her eyes and turned her body towards him. ‘Don’t patronise me, Mick,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not sitting on this because it is a monetary asset. I’m here because it is my home, and my children’s home!’

  ‘I’m not patronising you,’ Mick butted in, ‘but realistically —’

  ‘Realistically you don’t care!’ Rebecca said. ‘Neither of you care. What about Ben and Archie? Charlie, your sons?’

  Charlie’s eyes slid away from her.

  ‘You’re such an idealist, Rebecca,’ Mick said. ‘What about my boys and their share of our inheritance? They have just as much right now the marriage is over.’

  ‘You were paid out years ago,’ Rebecca said. ‘And you know it. Your boys will have plenty and you know that too. This isn’t about money. Waters Meeting isn’t about money. It’s about the land.’

  ‘Don’t be retarded, Rebecca,’ Mick shot at her. ‘It’s always about money.’

  She felt rage rise in her and was about to explode when Funny began to bark from her basket on the verandah. Mick stood up abruptly, glancing at his watch. He gathered up his papers and tucked them under his arm. ‘That’ll be them.’

  ‘Who?’ Rebecca asked.

  Mick looked at her. ‘Just go with it, sis. We’ll sort you out very well. We can’t have you out here on your own up the duff like you are with a whole farm to run. It’ll be right. You’ll be very comfortable and extremely cashed up.’ And then he walked out of the kitchen.

  She was left sitting at the table, Charlie facing her at the other end. ‘Charlie?’ Rebecca growled. ‘Who is coming here?’

  He looked at her mockingly. In a victorious, sanctimonious voice, he said, ‘The geos. From the mining company. They’re doing exploratory work. Mick’s cut them a deal.’

  ‘Mining? Here?’

  ‘Where the fuck else, Rebecca? That’ll teach you for getting knocked up by that Stanton. You can go running off to him now,’ Charlie said as he stood and walked out of the room.

  Mining? Rebecca swallowed down the shock. She ran to the window. To her horror, she saw what he said was true. A convoy of four-wheel drives and utes was pulling up to park in a line outside the farm gate. On the doors were the dust-covered logos of the mining company. The doors opened and out spilled the mining men. And in that moment, Rebecca’s heart sank like a stone.

  Forty-one

  That afternoon, rain blew in from the south in a furious squall. It landed on the tin roof with a roar. Rebecca had to make her usual rounds of putting pots and pans under all the places that leaked. As she did, she felt sudden uncontainable sobs rise. Occasionally a rogue tear would roll from her eyes and she’d swipe it away. In a fog, she moved about the house, knowing that out there in the rain Mick was showing the geologists over Waters Meeting and knowing Charlie would be coming back in later to see her boys. Right after he had so horribly sold them out.

  In Bendoorin, she knew Evie would’ve put Archie on the school bus and it was now time to drive to the highway to get them.

  She reached for her coat, drew on her gumboots, jammed on her Rough Rider hat and ran out from under the shelter of the homestead’s verandah, Funny at her heels. Just as she laid her hand on the latch of the garden gate, she heard a vehicle arriving through the wash of rain. It was Evie pulling up in her small white car.

  The old woman got out, popping up an umbrella colourfully patterned with cartoon cats and dogs. Then she opened the back door, ushered Ben and Archie out of the car, and led them by the hand to the verandah.

  ‘Thought I’d save you a trip,’ she said, holding onto the boys’ backpacks and glancing up at her.

  ‘Oh, Evie,’ Rebecca said, barely holding her emotions together. ‘Mick and Charlie …’ she began, but couldn’t finish. ‘The mines …’ she started again.

  ‘I know. Andrew had a feeling that’s what was happening and told me,’ Evie said.

  Then Rebecca was crying and Evie was reaching out to hold her tightly.

  They stood in the rain, Evie giving comfort with one arm, and with the other, holding the umb
rella up to shelter them both from the pelting drops.

  After a time, Rebecca pulled away. ‘I’m sorry, I’m getting you all wet. Shall we go inside?’

  Evie shook her head. ‘You’ve got a four-wheel drive? Let’s go see what these miner boys are doing. The kids will be interested to see.’

  Rebecca looked at her, stunned, but then she saw the look in Evie’s eyes. There was mischief there. A slow smile of understanding grew on her face. ‘Boys!’ she called. ‘Let’s go see your father!’

  They drove down past the shearing shed and on towards the river, following the tracks left by the mining men. They forded the river, then followed the trail onto the northern track up the Rebecca River, where the clouds were tussling with sunshine. Slowing on the bumpy road, Rebecca could hear the wheels of the vehicle splash through puddles as they lumbered up and over the farm tracks. Their progress was slow in the wet and with the boys perched on Evie’s lap, Funny at their feet. Jesus took centre command between them on the seat, curling his lip at the pup, who mildly wagged her tail at him each time he growled.

  As Rebecca drove, in between scuds of rain, she wound down the window and took in the beauty of the bush that was bursting with springtime vitality. The rain had only enhanced the vigour of the vegetation so that every leaf shone with silver and the air was scented with moistened perfumes.

  Eventually Evie and Rebecca found the men over the old wooden bridge in the upper reaches of the property, decked out now in high-vis waterproofs and hard hats, with core-sampling machines roaring from the back of their trucks that spat up soil and rocks. The rain had eased so the noise of the drills seemed to permeate the entire valley, shattering and fracturing the air itself.

  The moment the door was opened Ben launched himself from where he sat on Evie’s lap. ‘Daddy!’

  Desperately Archie reached out for Evie to help lift him down and soon both boys were running over to their father, the dogs spilling out too. Evie and Rebecca followed.

  ‘Hi, kids,’ Charlie said, his face lighting up to see them. He stooped to hug his sons, drawing them into his embrace and kissing the tops of their heads. He slapped them on their backs in a manly greeting.

  ‘Daddy!’ they chorused. Rebecca noticed tears in Charlie’s eyes.

  Ben pulled back and looked around him. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, pointing to the sampling machines.

  Charlie looked down at the boys and Rebecca closely studied his expression. She saw the warmth leave his eyes and a sternness settle once more on his face.

  ‘Adult business. Just farm stuff.’

  ‘But, Dad? What’s that machine doing? Why are those men here?’

  ‘Pipe down for a bit, Ben. Can’t you see I’m working here with Uncle Mick?’

  ‘What’s that, Daddy?’ Archie asked, looking up hopefully to his father.

  Charlie rolled his eyes with impatience and looked over at Rebecca. ‘Why’d you bring them here?’

  ‘They wanted to see you,’ she said coldly.

  He glanced away, irritated. ‘I’ll catch them at the house before we go,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘But, Daddy …’

  Charlie delivered a sharp look at Ben, then returned his gaze to Rebecca. ‘You had to bring them here, didn’t you?’ he said. Mick came to stand next to him.

  ‘I wanted them to see the truth,’ she said, standing hands on her hips, her blue eyes looking openly at him.

  Charlie glanced at Evie, who stood wrapping her blue waterproof about her tiny body. ‘Look, if you came here to make a scene, just get on with it,’ he said.

  Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, Charlie. You and Mick are the ones making the scene. And once all this is over and this place is sold and dug up, it’s one scene your boys will remember for the rest of their lives.’ Then she turned and guided her children away from the men, whistling the dogs to her, and together with Evie she drove back downstream towards the house.

  That night when Rebecca pulled the quilt up over her head, she wondered if she should rage. If she ought to fight. She imagined racing to the gun cabinet the moment she saw the geologists drive onto the place. She imagined firing a rifle out over their heads, like some crazed woman from a Western. Then she imagined rising to the call, taking on the mines with a huge media campaign. Meetings at the hall, committees formed, placards and letters, press conferences and sleepless nights.

  But instead she shut her eyes and breathed, feeling the stirring and turnings of her baby within. She again felt grateful for Evie’s wise counsel on the drive back to the homestead. If it hadn’t been for Evie, she would be raging, out of control.

  ‘Choose the path of love,’ her friend had said, and it was in that moment that Rebecca knew she had to let go of everything she had held onto so tightly. Knowing the men and their machines would not leave. It had pained her even more to see the glory of spring and the new vibrancy that she could actually feel on Waters Meeting since she’d altered the management. But for the sake of herself and her children, she had to let it go. For the sake of love.

  She turned over, tucked her pillow under her head more comfortably and looked out to the blackness behind the window, where raindrops thrummed on glass. All those years of fighting. All those years of battling. Trying to prove to her father she was good enough. To prove herself to her brother Mick, then to her husband, Charlie. To fight for her beliefs in farming methods. To fight even for time off just for herself.

  She thought of Tom’s tortured face in the flames. Now as she lay beside the sleeping Ben, she realised she only wanted to give her precious energy and attention to her children. Not some drawn-out fight with Charlie and a ruthless mining corporation. She just wanted to be with her kids. Nothing more. She whispered to herself: ‘Let go, Rebecca. Let go, let go, let go. Let it all go, just let go.’ And in a state of exhaustion, she fell to sleep.

  Forty-two

  ‘Rebecca!’ came a voice in the dark. ‘Rebecca!’ It was a whisper, but the tones were insistent.

  Rebecca didn’t want to wake, but she dragged herself from sleep. ‘Tom?’ she murmured.

  ‘Rebecca!’

  When she did at last wake, she knew instantly something was wrong. The heavy sound of rain wasn’t the only roar coming from the tin on the roof. There was also an eerie kind of screaming, a crack and another kind of roar above the rain. Also there was the unmistakeable smell of smoke. She felt an asphyxiating crush in her lungs. She was out of bed and on her feet. She tried to flick on the light, but the power was out. She roused Ben. ‘Wake up! Wake up! We have to get up!’

  ‘But …’ came Ben’s sleepy voice. She hauled him up and ran into the hallway. There from the stairs flames were already feathering their way up the walls, peeling away the paint and layers of old horse-hair plaster.

  Terror gripped her as she ran into Archie’s room. She set Ben down beside Archie’s bed. Thankfully the smoke was less thick there, but still she and Ben had begun to cough.

  ‘Ben, you have to be a big boy and crawl along the floor with Mum. I need to carry Archie.’ She bundled Archie up onto her back as he sleepily protested. The smoke was becoming unbearable, stinging her eyes and crushing her lungs, and the roar of the fire rising up the stairs was growing louder.

  Outside Funny barked frantically down below in the garden. Rebecca heard a sheet of roofing iron bang and buckle. Frantically she lifted both boys and together they crawled to her room at the end of the corridor, flinging open the French doors of the verandah. She glanced down to the eastern side of the house, where panes of glass had already exploded in the heat of the flames. Licking tongues were darting out into the wet night. The blast of the cold storm shocked the boys awake and soon both were whimpering in fear.

  How to get down? She thought of the old rose on the far side of the verandah and the rarely used portico at the more formal front entrance of the house. She ran along the verandah, lugging both boys. She put Ben down and ordered him to stay put.

  ‘No!’


  ‘But Mummy can’t carry you both down at the same time. I’ll take Archie and come back to get you.’

  ‘No, Mummy, no!’ screamed Ben and he refused to let go of her.

  ‘On my back then. Hold on like a possum. Don’t let go.’

  Silently in her mind she sent up a call of help to Tom. Then with all her strength, she gathered up the boys and began clambering over the railing and dropped down onto the roof of the portico. Both boys dragged on her body and she almost screamed with pain when her bare feet landed on the rough roof surface tarred with tiny sharp rocks. Rain lashed down. Everything looked normal from this side of the big old homestead, but Rebecca could see sparks shooting from the line of the steep pitched roof. Rain was fizzling on the flames, but the fire had taken hold and was rapidly gobbling up the tinder-dry wooden frame of the old homestead.

  ‘Hold on,’ she said to both boys. Ben was almost cutting her airway as he wrapped his arms about her neck. Archie too was clasping tightly onto her shoulder. She was so sodden now from the rain that her pyjamas were almost slipping from her body and ripping where Archie clung so tightly.

  Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself down, her toes searching for a hold. Rose thorns tore at their skin and the boys cried out. She felt her pregnant belly scraping down the dry and fragile lattice. She grabbed what she could. Gnarled old branches of the rose bore their weight, but the bite of thorns pierced their skin. A metre from the ground the lattice gave way with a crack and all three of them toppled downwards, landing hard on the gravel driveway. There was silence for a time, Rebecca lying winded, unable to move, her eyes blinded by the rain that fell. The silhouette of the chimney above the kitchen was now glowing red against the pitch-dark sky. The house was roaring and groaning as it was consumed from within.