Wattle Creek

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Okay, I just have to get some extra water for us and hook on the tanker. Then we’re off. Sure as hell hope this isn’t as bad as it looks.’

  Jacqueline watched as Damien loaded the back of the ute with tools and apparatus, hooked on the small water tanker trailer, and then tied the dogs to the rail behind the cab.

  ‘Why are we taking the farm dogs?’ she asked.

  ‘If this place goes up, least I know they weren’t shut up waiting to die.’

  Jacqueline felt a cold prickle down her spine and wished Damien would laugh to let her know he was joking, but one look at his face and she knew he was deadly serious. If this were someone other than Damien she would have wondered if this display of macho bravado was for her benefit, but she knew he wasn’t like that.

  As they bumped along the rough dirt roads, Jacqueline remained silent as she watched the heavy blanket of smoke reaching up from the horizon in front of them. Occasionally she stole a brief glance at Damien’s grim face, his eyes fixed on the road ahead and his attention on the squawking, earnest voices cutting in and out on the UHF radio below the dash. Jacqueline thought his expression suggested the fire was as bad, if not worse, than he’d first thought and felt a twinge of fear at not knowing what lay ahead. At the same time she felt comforted by the man beside her who seemed relatively calm and well prepared.

  What Jacqueline saw when they arrived at the centre of activity reminded her of the war films she’d watched on TV – only here the guns were replaced with hoses, rakes and knapsacks and instead of a bleak landscape, a leaping fireball of intense colour. Damien parked on an already burnt-out section of ground and fished out yellow overalls, hard hat, protective goggles, gloves and face-mask from behind the seat. Yelling to her that he would find out what was going on, he ran towards what looked like the command centre.

  Jacqueline watched in awe as men, and probably women for all she could tell in their gear, darted back and forth shouting orders and replies, the scene somehow appearing to be both chaotic and controlled at the same time. Left alone, Jacqueline felt afraid, even though the fire was already creeping over the next rise at least fifty metres away and there were so many people around. She pulled Squish, who had been sitting quietly beside her, closer and realised there had been few occasions when she’d felt so completely helpless. She waited nervously while Damien walked briskly towards the group of yellow-clad firefighters standing by the white tanker truck.

  Out of the corner of her eye Jacqueline noticed a small whirly-whirly spinning, rising towards the sky, dragging ash and dusty debris with it. Her breath caught as she realised what it signified and at the same moment her attention was drawn back to where Damien stood shifting his weight anxiously while he conferred with the others.

  Suddenly all heads lifted and Damien was bolting back to the ute, then they were roaring off before his door had even closed. He was breathless when he finally spoke.

  ‘It’s worse than they thought. The wind has turned. My place is now directly in line. Got ten, maybe twenty minutes tops.’

  Jacqueline nodded, unsure what to say, and held tightly onto the handle on the dash with one hand and Squish with the other. The tanker they were towing rattled and banged its protest and Jacqueline frequently glanced out the back window to make sure it was still attached. Both farm dogs were spread-legged, fighting for their footing, and Jacqueline was glad Damien had taken the time to tie them on short chains.

  Pulse racing, the smoke, dust and fear made it difficult for her to swallow. After a few minutes they screeched to a halt at a wire gate strung taut across the track in front of them.

  ‘Can you get it?’ Damien barked. ‘Pull it right back against the fence.’

  Jacqueline nodded in reply as she leapt out. She’d never opened a cocky gate before and desperately hoped she wouldn’t let him down. But somehow sliding the wire ring off and releasing the steel mechanism came naturally and within seconds she’d dragged the wire back flat against the fence.

  Back in the ute, adrenalin surging through her, she realised for the first time they weren’t heading back the way they’d come. She wondered why they’d wasted precious time opening the gate fully when the vehicle only needed a small gap. But her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

  Damien slammed the vehicle into gear and roared through the opening. Looking back she could see the orange flicker of flames on the horizon and wisps of smoke as trees began to light up, to the left of where they had just been.

  Why wasn’t he heading straight back to the house?

  But there was no time to question his actions; they were faced with another closed gate. Again she leapt out, her heart pounding even harder and her head becoming light. Running back to the ute she noticed Damien was out of the vehicle unclipping the work dogs. They eyed him with a mixture of fear, suspicion, and anticipation.

  ‘Stay,’ he ordered gruffly, pulled roughly at the driver’s door, and dived back in. Jacqueline looked behind her at the two big dogs on the back. Their eyes were wide and they were quivering all over. Damien slammed the gearstick forward and gunned the engine so hard the wheels skidded. He drove a few hundred metres and stopped a short way into the paddock. Their direction was almost opposite to where Jacqueline could see the mass of trees she knew circled Damien’s house. She could hold her tongue no longer.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she cried.

  ‘The sheep have to be moved,’ was the short reply.

  ‘What about the house?’

  ‘Too late.’

  Jacqueline bit her lip and stared at him in numb bewilderment. No, she told herself, it’s not that bad, he’s just treating the city chick to a bit of country melodrama. But the tension in her stomach and grim expression on his face said otherwise.

  ‘Gotta get ‘em out. They might be all I have left,’ Damien added.

  He wound down his window, thrust his arm out and yelled, ‘Go!’

  Both dogs scrambled from the back and tore off barking and yelping. Jacqueline looked in the direction the dogs had headed. She couldn’t see any sheep anywhere.

  ‘Let’s hope they do as they’re told for once,’ Damien said, driving in the opposite direction the dogs had gone. They were only a short way into the paddock when he brought the vehicle to a halt, put it in neutral, and applied the handbrake. Why wasn’t he helping the dogs find the sheep?

  Squish stood quivering on Jacqueline’s lap, his claws burrowing into her thighs. It was obvious he wanted to be part of the action and Jacqueline thought briefly how nice it would be to remain oblivious of the danger and knowledge of what was really happening.

  They seemed to sit there for ages with the diesel engine idling throatily, but when Jacqueline checked her watch she was stunned to find only a few minutes had passed. She was giving some attention to Squish when Damien’s voice caused her to look up.

  ‘You bloody beauty,’ he muttered. ‘You bloody good dogs.’ Jacqueline thought she heard his throat catch, though with all the smoke and dust about it wasn’t surprising.

  Suddenly a wall of sheep appeared in front of them. She hadn’t even realised they were parked in a hollow, but now she could see they had definitely come up over a small rise. When the sheep got level with the ute, Damien eased the vehicle forward and helped drive them through the gate.

  ‘Just have to get them so they know all the gates are open and they can run if they have to,’ he explained. ‘Sheep aren’t as dumb as we’d all like to believe.

  ‘If we can get them back to the first paddock we’ll be right. Half of it’s already burnt and the chance of the wind changing again is pretty remote. Anyway, I can get one of the blokes manning the road to open the gate if it comes to that.’

  Jacqueline was amazed at how calm he seemed and something told her it was not for her benefit – that he’d had to deal with these sort of crises most of his life.

  The whole time she’d been in the ute, the UHF had been crackling with voice
s Jacqueline had neither taken notice of nor understood. Now, for the first time in almost half an hour, Damien picked up the receiver and swallowed deeply before speaking.

  ‘Yeah, Damien McAllister receiving. Over.’

  ‘Sorry mate,’ was all the other voice said.

  ‘Be there as soon as I can,’ Damien said, and hung the microphone back on its hook.

  Jacqueline stared at him, her eyes wide and questioning, her head buzzing as she fought to get her emotional bearings. What did the bloke mean, ‘Sorry’?

  Damien kept his gaze straight ahead. Dust suspended behind the sheep and the smoky haze made visibility almost impossible. Although she felt completely inadequate and utterly bewildered, Jacqueline couldn’t help being glad she was there for him.

  Through the thick dust she was barely able to make out the line of sheep that were rushing through the open gate and scattering with the exhilaration of freedom. But the dark forms of the dogs were on each side, urging them back into a tight group and forward, further along the track.

  Suddenly another ute was alongside them and Damien was rolling down his window.

  ‘I’ll take ‘em from here. Just want ‘em against Karaboo Road?’ the driver shouted.

  ‘Yeah, thanks mate,’ Damien replied. His voice was uneven and croaky. Bringing the ute to a standstill, he whistled to the two dogs, who stopped and turned towards their master. He whistled again and the dogs looked back at the sheep before reluctantly loping to the ute.

  Jacqueline was nearly bursting with dread. She needed to know Damien’s house was all right and the earlier message had been about something else. Really, everything was fine. But in her heart she knew it was just wishful thinking. The smoke, flaming trees on the horizon, and Damien’s grim expression told her that. Through the window she could see his blackened hands were shaking as he poured water into Squish’s bowl and put it on the ground outside for the work dogs.

  ‘You both did good,’ he said, squatting to rub their heads while they lapped thirstily. They paused and glanced up at him before resuming their drinking.

  Watching, Jacqueline felt the adrenalin and tension suddenly drain from her body, and had to bite her lip to stop the tears escaping from between her stinging lids. She couldn’t help admiring him calmly taking care of his dogs and rewarding their hard work when the possibility he’d lost everything else hung over him.

  After waiting patiently for the dogs to finish with the water, Damien ordered them back up onto the ute, re-chained them, gave them a final pat, and got back behind the wheel.

  Jacqueline noticed the weariness in his movement and the dull tiredness in his eyes. She remained silent – there was nothing she could say.

  The journey back to the house seemed to take forever as the vehicle bumped and shuddered over the rough farm tracks. It was silent in the cabin except for the occasional voice on the UHF. Soon they were driving through black, burnt, barren earth and Jacqueline stole another quick glance at Damien, wondering at his thoughts and feelings around what he was seeing. But his expression hadn’t really changed since they’d first got in the ute; he was still just grimly staring ahead, focused on where he was going.

  By the time they halted next to the burnt-out shell of the house, tears were trickling down Jacqueline’s grimy face. Three fire units and their crews had hoses trained on the glowing debris and the last flames devouring the timber-frame shell of the house. When they heard the diesel idle of the ute, a couple of the overall-clad figures turned around.

  Damien got out and walked towards them, offered his hand to each in turn, nodded and thanked them for their efforts. Jacqueline brought Squish to her face and kissed his silky head, smearing his white fur with sooty tears. Looking towards Damien and the house, Jacqueline realised the burnt-out car in the driveway next to the twisted carport was hers. Suddenly all emotional control left her and she began to sob.

  When Jacqueline managed to regain her composure enough to raise her head and survey the mass of debris stretching out in all directions from the vehicle, she saw the last remaining uprights of what was once the McAllister family home fall to the ground with a loud crash, sending sparks leaping skywards. A barely recognisable Hills hoist wilted from the intense heat and glowed bright sienna, a stunning contrast against the blackened area below it. Two concrete rainwater tanks that had been at diagonal corners of the house were also charred and Jacqueline inanely wondered if the water had boiled inside them, turning them into giant saucepans. Realising the fire crews would have needed the water and the tanks were probably now empty, she instantly felt upset for Damien losing this precious commodity in the middle of summer. She knew she was being absurd – it was the least of his problems.

  But no matter how hard Jacqueline tried to focus on the magnitude of what she was witnessing, she found herself instead stuck on the trivial. Seeing the expanses of blackened wasteland nearby, she couldn’t get her head around the loss. She was surprised that Damien was still talking to the firefighters milling around and only occasionally appearing to glance around at his loss and shrug his shoulders in defeat.

  Tears continued to roll down her face in a steady stream. A lump the size of an egg in her throat made it almost impossible to swallow. Deep down she knew it wasn’t about the car, but still she couldn’t stem the tears. Head hung, she noticed Damien out the corner of her eye, making his way slowly towards her.

  Clean rivers of tears ran through the dust and grime on his face and Jacqueline thought her heart would leap out and pull him to her. That’s what she wanted to do, but she remained still. Opening her door, he leant in and reached for Squish, who went to him gladly and enthusiastically began licking the filth from his face, clearly grateful to be useful to his treasured master.

  ‘Looks like you’re homeless again, little mate,’ Damien said, burying his face in Squish’s tiny chest.

  Jacqueline thought her heart would explode.

  ‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ he said, addressing Jacqueline for the first time and resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

  ‘I know,’ she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come and she hung her head instead.

  ‘They’re still making them,’ Damien said, nodding his head towards the charred shell of her car and offering a wry smile.

  ‘I know,’ Jacqueline finally managed to get the words out.

  ‘Well, no worries then,’ he said, brightness detectable in his tired voice.

  Jacqueline wanted to tell him that she didn’t care about her car, that it was his loss she was crying about. But she wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling.

  ‘You’re the one who’s lost everything, not me,’ she finally managed, her tone sounding harsher than she’d intended.

  ‘Could have been worse,’ he shrugged. ‘Could have been a lot worse,’ he added thoughtfully.

  Incredulous, Jacqueline stared up at him, searching for any sign his bravado was about to crack. Was this the same guy she’d been treating for depression only days ago?

  ‘No lives were lost,’ he said, in explanation. ‘This is all stuff that can be replaced – lives are a different story. And once you’ve lost someone close you really understand that,’ Damien continued.

  Jacqueline felt the sharp stab of shame under her ribs. There was no way she could understand how he felt.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. ‘I’ll be okay.’

  ‘I know,’ she breathed. And she knew he would be okay.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Out of the corner of his eye Damien noticed two cars, his auntie Ethel’s and then his mum’s, drive in. He stepped aside to allow Jacqueline to open the ute door while he watched the two women get out of their cars as if synchronised. When they started walking towards them, his mother bolted ahead. She was competitive to the core, there was no way she’d let anyone get anywhere before her. Damien shared a knowing look and nod with his aunt as Jacqueline melted into Ethel’s embrace. Then his mum grabbed hold of h
im and pulled him close to her. She’d never been one for hugging or displays of affection, public or otherwise, and he wondered if it was just for show. But when they parted after a few moments he noticed her eyes were swollen with tears. Perhaps not, he thought, and smiled weakly at her.

  ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ he assured her, despite the exhaustion seeping through him. She nodded her head and suddenly his mum was back to being the totally in-control Tina Anderson.

  ‘Now,’ she began, fishing a wad of papers from the handbag over her shoulder, ‘you don’t need to worry about insurance – it’s all up to date. All the policies and cover details are here.’ Damien accepted the papers she thrust towards him. Sometimes he despised how efficient and cold his mother could be, but right then was grateful for her obsession with having everything in order, all of the time.

  Every year on the first day of July Tina calculated what everything would cost to replace – he had to provide details for the fences, machinery et cetera – then trotted off to the insurance broker, Alex Hassen, to update the policies. Damien thought it would have to drive Alex madder than it did him. Every year he rolled his eyes and moaned about the extra cost involved, pushing further away the new boom sprayer he’d been dreaming about. But he’d never complain again, he told himself.

  Damien remembered how one New Year’s Eve over a bottle of red the year after his father had died Tina had confessed to not always being so over-cautious with insurance. They were both at home, not feeling like celebrating but decided the occasion at least warranted a drink. In a tipsy lapse, his mother told him how lucky they’d been to have private health insurance when his father had become sick. Nanna and Grandpa Reimer had paid it for them when they were first married and occasionally when times were tough.