‘Boys?’ she called, her hands fumbling for them, trying to make out their faces in the darkness. ‘Are you OK?’
Ben was whimpering and Archie had begun to build up to a loud wail.
Funny had found them and was scooting about, huffing with distress, curling her body as she nervously wagged her tail.
‘My arm,’ Ben was saying. ‘Mummy, my arm.’
‘C’mon,’ Bec said, hauling herself up and reaching for them. ‘It’s not safe here. We have to keep going. We have to get Funny to safety, OK? You have to be brave, boys, and save your Funny dog! Come on.’ Barefoot and soaked, she half dragged, half carried the crying boys across the farmyard towards the machinery shed. Now with some distance from the house, their little faces were lit with awe as they watched the Waters Meeting homestead dance and buckle with the death of flames.
Bec reefed open the back door of the LandCruiser and ushered the boys into the back, then lifted Funny in with them. She turned the key over and started the engine to give them some heat. In the dim interior light, she saw her phone lying on the dash from the bus run that morning. She pressed a button and while there was no phone service in that part of the yard, the time displayed 12.15 pm. Then she climbed into the back and kissed Ben’s and Archie’s faces over and over. Crying, she held them all, the pup included, as they watched the farmhouse burn. The sparks jettisoned years of memory out into the night.
Rebecca opened up the glovebox and found the boys a packet of forgotten dried old jelly beans, which she fed to them for shock. Flicking on the roo spotlight that was always stowed under the passenger seat, she looked at Ben’s arm. She couldn’t tell if it was broken, but she told him to cradle it to his body and showed him how to control his breathing. Once the boys were settled and staring amazed at the fire before them, she went out to the shed.
Shining the big spottie, she found some horse blankets, shook them out for spiders and returned to the LandCruiser, rugging the boys up. They were both crying and shivering. She soothed them for a time as she watched the burning house crumble in on itself. The blaze of light that had been illuminating the outbuildings was dying down to a softer glow. She backed the vehicle up to the horse float and hitched it on, then returned to open the passenger door.
‘Now both of you have to be brave boys. Mummy’s got stuff to do. You can’t be scared or you’ll scare Funny. So you look after your puppy, OK?’ She kissed them on the crowns of their heads as they nodded, tears gathering again in their eyes. She watched Ben’s lower lip tremor, but he held onto the pup.
Rebecca knew the livestock would be fine. They were far away from the homestead on the other side of the river. But she knew she had to get herself and the boys out of here and there was no way she was leaving Miss Luella so close to the devastation to stress all night.
Rebecca jogged over to the stables. She found a halter and went to the day paddock to where Miss Luella was standing, her nose lifted to the smell of the smoke, snorting nervously, trotting back and forth, tossing her head. The mare gratefully came over to her and dipped her head into the string halter. Rebecca hitched it at her cheekbone, took the lead rope, lifted the gate latch and led her towards the already opened float door. It was shadowy and dark inside the float. The mare bowed her head, snorted and then, with one steady hoof after the other, inched her way on, snorting again loudly and tearing nervously at the hay net.
‘Good girl,’ Bec said, stroking her before securing the side door and lifting up the back ramp.
When she opened the door of the LandCruiser again, her boys were asleep. The muscles under her belly were screaming now. She pushed all thoughts of the pain and her baby aside. She grabbed the matches from the glovebox and went to the shed. Tonight she had one last thing to do.
Lifting up the heavy jerry can, Rebecca threw it into the back of the LandCruiser, then inched the vehicle and float down the hill towards the shearing shed. She turned right and, in the beam from the lights, found the garden gate into her father’s log cabin. At the small house, she flung open the door, flipped the lid of the jerry can and slopped petrol into the dark interior. Then she tossed petrol up the walls of the old cabin, throwing the jerry can in too. She backed out the door, striking a match. She paused for a second, then threw it, listening to the wumpfh as the building ignited.
As the heat and pungent smell of paint and plastic began to billow toxic black smoke, Rebecca retreated to the LandCruiser. The flames warmed her face. She was soaking wet, but the rain had stopped and steam was lifting from her clothes, drifting from her like dragon’s breath. She stood transfixed, watching the flames tower higher and higher. She was about to turn and go when she saw again the face of Tom behind the dance of flames.
‘Tom,’ she said.
He was smiling.
She turned and drove away from Waters Meeting.
Forty-three
From her bed, Rebecca could hear parrots making the most of the morning sun following the rain as they chattered to each other, winging their way through the Rivermont garden. She watched as they clustered in the trees, nibbling at the flowering-gum blossoms. Bec lay flanked by Ben and Archie, her arms around each boy, her hair still damp from a bath just a few hours earlier. Despite Yazzie’s supply of luxury body wash and loofahs, she could still detect the faint taint of smoke that remained etched in their hair and skin. Bec looked up at the ceiling as she remembered the events of the previous day and night. She wondered what the rubble of the Waters Meeting homestead would look like now in the cold light of day and whether the cremation of her father’s cabin was complete.
She had seen TV news footage of people who had lost everything in bushfires, and had felt their pain at having to start again. But this morning, instead of feeling devastated as she’d imagined she would, she felt utterly cleansed. Her boys were safe. That was all that counted. Mick and Charlie were going to sell Waters Meeting to the mines. The land was lost. To her, that was far worse than losing the homestead, which she knew now had carried so many demons and ghosts. What tore her up, though, was the fate of the land. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and kissed each of her sons.
Bec knew the fire must have started in the kitchen woodstove: the dodgy old door had been telling them for years it was time for a new firebox and seals. She also knew that fire investigators would probably discover the cabin fire was deliberately lit, but she just didn’t care. It was as if the whole sorry business was meant to be.
She thought of Tom and suddenly she knew it was all meant to be. In some way, from where he was in the non-physical world, he was freeing her from the place. From the negative memories of himself, her father and her life as the farmer’s wife.
Each time she began to catalogue what she had lost in the house fire and all the old family possessions, she would sway her thoughts back to gratitude. She had her life. She had her boys. She had her freedom. It could have been so horribly different. The thought shuddered through her. She could almost hear the screams of burning people in the night. She pulled her children closer, realising they all could have died. Thankfully it hadn’t turned out that way.
Instead they had landed in the safety of Rivermont. Yazzie had met them at the door under the gleam of the porch light with a puzzled and fearful expression on her face. The sight and the smell of Rebecca, Ben and Archie, who held the shaking Kelpie pup in his arms, soon told her all she needed to know.
She had bustled them inside, escorted by the dogs Wesley and Ruby, and said only, ‘I’ll get Evie.’
Rebecca had felt a relief wash over her. Evie was here.
Yazzie had rushed to the guest room to wake the old woman, who, in her quiet no-fuss manner, had brought a sense of calm to the situation, giving Yazzie a chance to go out to the float to unload Miss Luella and put her in a stable.
While Evie had run the boys a bath, she had taken the time to look over their injuries. Ben’s right forearm was knocked badly, but Evie concluded there were no breaks. She set out one of her cr
eams and a bandage for him on the bathroom cabinet as she stripped him off and helped him into the giant frothing bathtub. Next she surveyed the cut on Archie’s head and laid out butterfly plasters to suture it after his bath. They cried a little as the water stung the rose-thorn scratches on their bodies, but the lavender oil that orbed in the water released a soothing steam that soon settled them.
Next Yazzie was back, standing at the bathroom door. In each hand was a cute rubber ducky.
‘I got these out of the cupboard,’ she said as she squatted down beside the bathtub and held them out to Ben and Archie. ‘Here you go. My little ones, Abby and Nicholas, loved these. You can play with them too.’
‘Thank you, Yazzie,’ said Ben quietly as he took the duck and passed the other to his brother.
‘You’re so very welcome.’ On her way out of the room, she squeezed Rebecca’s arm. ‘I’m so glad they’re OK,’ she said before leaving.
Rebecca swallowed down tears as she stooped to bundle their pungent smoke-soaked clothing into her arms.
Evie moved over to her. ‘Now you.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You and your baby need healing,’ Evie said, taking the clothes from her. ‘I’ll get the bath going in Yazzie’s room.’ She plucked a guest robe from the back of the door and passed it to her. ‘Put this on and watch the boys while I’m gone. I’ll call Dennis. He’s the rural fire captain, isn’t he? He’ll sort things out for you.’
Rebecca nodded, grateful for Evie’s gentle instructions and control. She could feel her muscles jump and spark from nerves and her hands had begun to tremble. By the time she had eased her scratched and sore body into the bathtub, the tears had come again. Next Evie was back with a tea and some ‘tonic’.
Bec sat up, the bubbles of the bath sticking to her skin, and took the cup from Evie, the fine bone china rattling as she held the saucer. ‘Oh, Evie, I can’t believe Mick and Charlie —’
Evie shushed her. ‘Have your bath. Sleep on it. Don’t think of it again until the morning. Nothing will seem as bad then.’
And Evie had been right. To have each child folded into her arms and breathing softly on her skin this morning was enough for the moment.
But the feeling of peace was short-lived. A sharp contraction ripped through her pelvis, causing her to jump suddenly and wince. Ben and Archie both murmured and stirred, but did not wake as she slid her arms from beneath their heads.
Rebecca hauled herself up, cramped over and grimacing. Crab-like, she hulked her way to the bathroom and saw her wild-haired, wild-eyed reflection in the mirror, which sent a wave of panic through her. Another rip of pain swamped her and she gripped the marble benchtop white-knuckled and stared into her own eyes in the reflection. Fear that she could be losing her baby charged her mind. She spun away from the mirror and, clasping her abdomen beneath the swell of her belly, made her way along the hall. ‘Evie?’ she moaned. ‘Evie!’
There was no haste or panic in Evie when she came to meet Rebecca at her bedroom door. ‘Lie down on my bed,’ she said as she pulled on her light green silk robe and flicked her long plait out from beneath the collar. ‘Breathe.’
Evie stood over her. Her hands hovered in the air above Rebecca’s body. She saw Evie shut her eyes, then felt the heat and energy radiate from the old woman’s palms. Yazzie was soon at the door, looking from Evie to Rebecca with concern.
‘Get the car ready, sweetheart, please,’ Evie said to Yazzie without opening her eyes. ‘We’re going to get Rebecca to the hospital. The doctor can run some tests.’
Forty-four
In the Bendoorin hospital, Dr Patkin peered at Rebecca with concern, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as she lay on the cool sheets of the bed in a hospital gown. She was shaking uncontrollably and her teeth were chattering. She felt ice cold. The fear that her baby would come slithering, premature and dead, from her body haunted her mind. Evie clutched her hand and told her to breathe and to trust. Rebecca could tell from the way the nurses hovered and by Dr Patkin’s deep frown that the situation was serious.
‘Won’t someone crack a joke?’ Bec said, her voice choked with fear. She couldn’t possibly lose her baby. Not now. Not after she had lost everything, save her children!
As Dr Patkin hooked her up to the ultrasound monitor, he said to her, ‘What on earth were you doing, getting yourself into that kind of a scrape? Burning buildings! I mean, really.’ He delivered her a phoney look of disapproval and patted her hand. But his reassurances did little to quell the dread that haunted her as they stood, waiting.
‘Now let’s see,’ Dr Patkin said, turning to the monitor. The nursing staff who had rushed Rebecca straight in, downing the tasks of their usual early morning rounds with the elderly patients, were now watching the monitor too. She could see the worry in their eyes. By the time they’d set the sticky monitor dots on her body, and Dr Patkin had dolloped a good dose of lube on her belly, Bec realised the cramps had stopped. But still fear raged through her that she could lose the baby. The silence within her body filled her with more fear than the pain.
Dr Patkin slid the ultrasound handpiece over her belly amidst the cold jelly-like lube and for the moment all she could see was a kaleidoscope of colour on the screen.
The nurses stood still and silent. Rebecca squeezed Evie’s hand.
‘Look,’ he said at last. He tapped the image on the monitor with his index finger. ‘There she is. Right as rain. Happy as Larry, or Lara as the case may be.’ He swivelled the monitor and his index finger tapped again on the image. Rebecca felt the collective sigh of relief from the staff as the tension left the room. Tears came to her eyes as she looked at the image, which reminded her of a weather satellite photo, the way the colours swirled in a kind of vortex. At the centre was a tiny little being. Joy at seeing her baby there on the screen, alive and well, rose in Rebecca, along with a sense of utter relief. Evie let go of her hand. The nurses began to drift from the room, smiles on their faces.
‘She?’
‘Did you want to know the sex? I kind of let it slip, sorry,’ Dr Patkin said.
‘She?’
‘Yes, she. And all looks fine. You and she will be fine. I believe you’ve pulled a few muscles. That’s all. And the stress of your night-time dramatics, combined with a lack of sleep, has brought on some cramping. I’ll run some more tests in an hour or so, then if everything still looks OK, you’ll be right to go home, I’d say. But your blood pressure’s fine. You’re as fit as a fiddle and the baby is too.’
Bec laughed as Evie again took up her hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘Can you call Yazzie please?’ Rebecca asked Evie eventually. ‘Let her and the boys know it’s all OK.’
An hour later, propped up in bed and halfway through a meditation on Evie’s iPod, Rebecca’s eyes flew open. Standing at the foot of the bed, grinning like an idiot, was Gabs, wearing a long orange paisley maxidress and Elmer Fudd-style beanie.
‘What the …?’ said Rebecca, tugging the earpieces from her ears.
Gabs proudly held up a brown paper bag stamped with Evie’s shop name. ‘Been shop lifting!’ she said, then twirled about so her dress skimmed over the toes of her Blundstone boots. She rummaged in the bag and pulled out what looked like a giant purple-and-gold striped curtain with an orange sash.
‘What is that?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Your get-out-of-hospital outfit. Like it?’
Rebecca clapped her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes.
‘You’re not gunna cry on me, are ya?’ Gabs said. ‘It’s not that bad. Count yourself lucky. I’ve been thinking of burning my house down too. I just can’t face the housework either. Especially the washing. Smart move, Bec, torching the joint. And you get a new wardrobe! Look.’ She held the garment up in front of her and wiggled about, lifting her eyebrows up and down. ‘Sex-y!’
Rebecca shook her head at her cheeky friend and giggled.
‘Candy’s store isn’t open yet, but I’ve had
my eye on a packet of super-sized beige undies in there for a while now. Reckon they could tide you over till you get more clothes.’
‘Oh, Gabs,’ sighed Rebecca.
‘Oh, Gabs? Oh fuck, I’d say,’ Gabs said. She also sighed, then lifted her dark eyebrows. ‘Hard to believe it’s all gone. House and farm!’
Bec agreed, the sombre moment settling between them.
Gabs broke the silence. ‘Still, as long as you and the boys and the bub are OK. That’s all that matters.’
Bec blinked away tears. ‘I know,’ she said quietly.
‘And of course looking fabulous matters too, so c’mon, try it on!’ said Gabs as she whipped the garment up in front of her, then tripped on the hem of her maxidress and tumbled over to Rebecca with the giant kaftan in her hand. As her friend landed groaning on top of her bed, with her beanie askew, dress rucked up, Bec couldn’t help but feel the sense of life’s ridiculousness wash through her, causing her to laugh at herself and her dear friend.
Later, Rebecca waited in the passenger seat for Evie outside the Heaven is Here! shop, wearing the bright purple-and-gold kaftan. She looked down and snickered again at the sight of herself. ‘Un-bloody-believable,’ she said.
Bec watched as Evie came out of her shop with Jesus tucked under her arm, locked the door, then went into Larissa’s coffee shop next door. She was grateful after all that had happened she could still laugh. Rebecca looked down to her lap, her body beginning to ache from all that had gone on. She reached for her phone on the dash. She felt like calling Sol. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d been so rude about Miss Luella. She knew Yazzie would’ve called him to tell him about the fire. He’d had plenty of time by now to call her, no matter which hemisphere of the world he was in or what time zone. Perhaps he was giving her space, or perhaps, as Rebecca hoped, he’d given up on her altogether. That would be easiest.
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