Wattle Creek

by Fiona McCallum

  Every now and then Damien thought medical insurance was a waste of money because he rarely made a claim, but he always remembered that New Year’s Eve and continued paying the premiums. They’d had the highest hospital cover, which meant that when his dad had first got crook they were covered for his flight out to Adelaide, travelling back and forth and all sorts of extras.

  He remembered being told how much better the treatment and food was in private hospitals compared to public. Unfortunately his father became an expert during his eight years in and out of hospitals and specialists’ offices.

  His mum had cried over how bad the finances were and how she wished she’d taken out more life insurance for him, but in the early days money was tight and insurance was considered a luxury. And when he got sick it was too late to up the policy.

  Damien had very nearly cried himself. If they’d had more money, he reckoned, she wouldn’t have gone looking for a man to provide for her, wouldn’t have married Geoff. Not that she was attracted to his money, because he had none, but he gave her the attention she needed.

  Damien was exhausted. The adrenalin had left him and he was starting to feel a bit dazed and muddled. CFS and SES blokes were coming up one by one, heads bowed, saying how sorry they were. But one thing that was clear through the blur of faces was Jacqueline being led away by his Auntie Ethel.

  He wanted to yell at her to stay, but instead he was nodding and mumbling, ‘Yeah, thanks, no worries,’ over and over in a voice that felt rough and unfamiliar. And he wanted to tell the world that losing all this was nothing compared to losing her, the woman he loved.

  Then she was in Ethel’s car and closing the door without looking back. Things were happening too fast. If he could stop her and go off somewhere quiet, just the two of them, sit and talk – tell her all that mattered was that she and Squish were all right. But maybe she didn’t feel the same as he did and he was making more out of the other night than he should. If he could just put his arms around her …

  He decided she was probably better off being taken home, given a cup of tea and a decent feed. And Auntie Ethel was the best one for the job. She’d take good care of Jacqueline.

  His thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s voice. She was telling him to tick what had been lost off the insurance list. Jesus, couldn’t it wait? He thought it probably still hadn’t really hit him. He needed time to think.

  ‘Actually, Mum, I have to go and check on the sheep.’

  ‘You’ll need somewhere to stay. Dinner is at seven if you’re interested,’ she replied. Damien sighed. She was as detached as ever. He noticed she didn’t look at the ruins of the house as she walked back to her car, just stared at the ground.

  Damien got back in the ute with Squish and floored it. He knew they’d all be worried that he’d lost the plot, but he didn’t care. He had to get out of there. Squish looked concerned too.

  It felt good to leave all the turmoil and destruction behind. He drove a couple of kilometres across the charred earth and parked behind a line of scrub. Out of sight from everyone, he liked feeling that he could have been a million miles away. Finally the congestion in his head started to clear.

  ‘Fuck, I’ve just lost my home, everything.’ Squish looked at him expectantly. Maybe this is the calm before the storm and any second now I’m going to start howling like a baby, Damien thought.

  But he realised he didn’t feel all that sad. A bit pissed off that the gully and everything in it went up and not all the useless stubble everywhere else, but that was all he felt. Damn Dad for choosing the best spot on the farm for the house, he thought. Though he supposed it was amazing it had lasted that long.

  Squish climbed into Damien’s lap and he pulled the puppy towards his face. His soft hair smelt stale and ashy and there were streaks of soot in it, but Damien didn’t care. Least he still had Squish. Really, nothing else mattered; life finally seemed in perspective.

  He felt a huge weight slip off his shoulders, as if someone had pumped him full of helium. His blood flowed hot and heavy like molten lead – as though he’d just connected the dots to make the discovery of a lifetime. Yeah, everything was insured to the hilt thanks to his mum. Financially, he’d probably be better off than before. Maybe this was the second chance people said you rarely got in life.

  ‘This is great, Squish.’ But the little dog didn’t seem convinced, instead he looked at Damien like he thought he was crazy. But he wasn’t. He’d never been surer of anything before. It all felt so right.

  He felt empowered, burning with renewed energy wanting to be spent. He could run miles if he wanted to. He put the ute in gear and drove on down into the charred gully towards Karaboo Road where he hoped he’d find his stock safe and sound.

  The sheep were huddled in a tight group near the trough and began to scatter when they saw the ute, but stopped and stared when they realised they weren’t being chased. They looked a bit bewildered. Some people said that was their charm. Probably right, Damien thought. As much as they pissed him off, he didn’t reckon the place would feel the same without them – sort of empty.

  Maybe they weren’t that bad after all. Could he be, perhaps, maybe, just a little bit, actually beginning to like these woolly bastards that caused him so much grief?

  ‘Man, I must be losing it big time,’ he sighed.

  Damien was relieved to see it looked like the fences lining the scrub on either side of the main gully were all that had been lost – probably only seven kilometres in all. Most of the knobbly, charcoaled posts were still smoking and were probably beyond salvaging. The fumes from the treated pine were overpowering and toxic. He grabbed the chemical mask he used for spraying from under the seat, put it on and moved the ute upwind. Squish was startled at his new look, but a reassuring pat did the trick and he returned to his snoozing.

  Damien noticed something moving fifty metres or so over to his left. Must be a roo, he thought, and inched the ute closer, stopped it, and got out. The pale charcoal colour of an eastern grey was barely noticeable against the charred fence and blackened mallee shrubs. He moved closer.

  Shit! Squatting down he realised there were two of them, a half-grown one and a tiny baby that must have been flung from his mother’s pouch when she took off, poor little thing.

  The larger one looked especially bad. Its face and chest were singed and it was covered with raw patches of peeling skin. It struggled to get up on legs that were poles of red flesh. The revolting stench leeched through Damien’s respirator. The smell wasn’t quite as bad as that of burning sheep and wool, but was still pretty foul. His stomach lurched and he willed its contents to stay down. The last thing he wanted was to take off the mask.

  His heart skipped and he bit his lip. Should he put the poor bastard out of its misery, or did it have half a chance? He didn’t have a gun and there weren’t any rocks around big enough, so the decision was made for him. Thank Christ for that. Damien didn’t think he could have done it. Not today. His throat was tight and his eyes watering. He tried to cough it all away and concentrate.

  Think, Damien, think …

  He went back to the ute and pulled the rolled-up Drizabone from under the seat, hoping the roo hadn’t made it into the scrub to slowly die out of sight. But it was like it knew it was being helped – it didn’t even struggle. Damien carefully wrapped and tied the greasy arms of the oilskin coat around it for support and hoped he was being gentle enough not to rip the rest of the roo’s loose skin off.

  Putting it on the passenger’s side floor he again wondered if he was doing the right thing. The roo’s breathing was laboured and uneven. Squish looked confused, but seemed to Damien to know this was not the time to demand attention.

  Back at the burnt scrub Damien squatted over the tiny joey and paused. It wasn’t much bigger than Squish. He knew it would probably be best to dong it, but couldn’t make himself. Perhaps he was being too selfish, but he thought since it had survived this long it deserved a chance.

  The
blackened earth underneath the joey was still warm, and probably felt like a pouch to the tiny marsupial. The soft, delicate baby fur around its ears and feet was singed and it was generally pretty filthy, but apart from that Damien didn’t think it looked too bad.

  He pulled his orange CFS overalls off and tucked the joey amongst the folds and rushed back to the ute. Squish moved aside when he laid the packaged creature carefully on the seat.

  It was then Damien realised he had no idea how to care for injured wild animals. But he did know shock was one of the most dangerous injuries. These guys need urgent help. He slowly scanned the area around the ute to check if there were any more from the mob, his face sweating in the mask and his eyes stinging from the heat and toxicity.

  Back in the ute the sight of Squish curled up next to the tiny joey bundle made him smile. It was like the little dog knew how precious it was. But there was no time for admiring the scene, he had to get them … Home! He had no bloody home. Shit, what was he going to do with them?

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ he reassured his patients. If he had to be honest, he was pretty doubtful either would make it. His chest tightened and his heart sank as he watched the larger roo on the floor, his heaving form fighting to survive.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Ethel said, her gaze on the road ahead. ‘Everything won’t seem so bad when you’ve got changed and had a nice hot cuppa.’

  Jacqueline wanted to tell Ethel that it wasn’t her she should be worried about and that she didn’t care about the car, but remained silent. She’d desperately wanted to stay with Damien. Who knew when the shock of what happened would knock the stuffing out of him and he’d be the same shy, confused fellow she’d been seeing only a week before? But he hadn’t asked her to stay and deep down Jacqueline knew it was best to allow him his space.

  She sighed. The fact of it was she hated not being needed. There she was, right on hand and he’d scarcely even acknowledged her presence. But then, of course, she’d been the one who’d fallen apart like jelly in the sun. She was mortified. What nobody seemed to understand was that her reaction was out of fear and concern for Damien, not for herself or her bloody car.

  As she was leaving, Jacqueline heard some of the men nearby commenting on how well he’d taken it. She had wanted to tell them they had no bloody idea.

  Tina Anderson, obviously still in denial about her son having any sort of problem, had said, ‘Yes, he’ll be fine. All the insurance is paid up.’

  As if that’s all that matters, Jacqueline had silently snorted.

  Ethel had offered her profound apologies to Tina for her loss, after all it had been her home before she’d left it to remarry. A curt reply was given, but Jacqueline noticed Tina looking past Ethel’s shoulder at the sodden, smouldering mess, a look of longing or regret in her eyes. Perhaps it was a bit of both, but Jacqueline was too focused on her concern for Damien and simmering with anger and frustration at Tina for her apparent lack of caring.

  ‘Well, I’d better be off,’ Tina had suddenly said, as if snapping herself back from her memories. ‘Geoff will be home from work soon,’ she’d added.

  ‘How cold can you get?’ Jacqueline had said, more to herself, while she and Ethel stared after Tina’s car for a few moments.

  ‘She’s alright,’ Ethel had said thoughtfully. ‘It’s just her way,’ she’d added.

  Jacqueline felt a flush of hurt at being reprimanded. Shaking her head she scolded herself for being oversensitive. But she couldn’t shake the heaviness that the world was against her. And God knows why Tina thought I was here, she thought.

  One by one the CFS crews had offered their shrugged apologies and said their goodbyes. They’d driven off in a convoy and were now out of sight. Jacqueline had noticed how still it suddenly was, almost eerie, with the stench of loss and the deep watermelon pink sunset signifying the end of a terrible day. Suddenly she realised how famished she felt. She’d missed lunch and hadn’t realised she’d been staring at the blackened remains for so long.

  ‘Damien’ll be starving,’ she’d said, thinking aloud.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Ethel had replied. ‘He knows where his mother lives and he knows he can always come to me. He’s no fool.’

  There it was again; the stab below her ribs that reminded Jacqueline she was being told off. She wanted to tell Ethel there was no way she thought he was a fool, but was too exhausted and annoyed to enter into a sparring match. And anyway, Ethel had been good enough to come out and collect her as soon as she’d heard the news. Jacqueline wondered if she looked like the sullen, chastised child she felt.

  Ethel suddenly broke the silence between them and Jacqueline realised she’d been deep in thought rather than annoyed as she had, wrongly, assumed.

  ‘There was a lot more than what were replaceable, insurable objects in that house,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘Hm,’ Jacqueline agreed.

  ‘You know, his father built that house with his bare hands on weekends with the help of a mate,’ Ethel continued. ‘Took him years because he salvaged most of the materials from ruins around the district. A very resourceful man was Dean McAllister.

  ‘And that’s why Damien will be okay,’ she added, wagging a knowing finger at Jacqueline. ‘I’m not going to say this fire is the best thing that ever happened to him, because it’s a tragedy, nothing surer. But I reckon it’s going to give him the out he needs.’

  ‘How’s that?’ Jacqueline asked, amazed at Ethel’s reading of Damien’s situation.

  ‘Well, I think Damien has been living in Dean’s shadow, not intentionally mind you, but just there. You know, not happy, not unhappy. Just sort of lost – no direction. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t know they need it.

  ‘Tina sure as hell hasn’t been much help. Damien needed support, not more pressure. And she’s so damn competent at everything, she’ll have you believe, how could he ever measure up? Especially when he’s so much like his father.

  ‘Very warm, loving fellow Dean was, but was too in touch with nature to make much of a go with farming. Would rather be out planting rows of native trees than spraying chemicals around the place. Not that he didn’t toe the line – Tina saw to that, before he got sick.

  ‘When I heard Damien had sought help I was thrilled. I thought you could get him to understand himself and find his way. I just hope he sees today for what it really is – the beginning, not the end. And I hope to hell Tina doesn’t damn well interfere.’

  ‘Jeez Ethel, you’ll be after my job next,’ Jacqueline joked. She smiled warmly at her new friend. She really was a wise, perceptive old stick.

  Damien had only needed a little prodding from her and had done all the hard work himself. She couldn’t take much of the credit. But then that’s not what you’re doing counselling for, is it? she silently reminded herself.

  ‘Judging by his attitude today,’ Ethel continued, ‘I think you’ve done a great job.’

  When she got home, Jacqueline phoned her parents to ask them to fish out the car’s insurance details. She’d never got around to taking out her own policy and it had always been cheaper to have it in her father’s name.

  After patiently answering their frenzied, concerned questions over and over and eventually convincing them she was fine, Jacqueline was free to go across the road for tea with Ethel who had assured her it was no trouble. But putting the phone down she realised she didn’t feel fine. She longed for the comfort and security of her parents, which she hadn’t felt for a long time, not since becoming a teenager.

  If only they weren’t so far away. But they are, she told herself sternly, and you’re a grown woman who can take care of herself.

  Freshly showered and changed, Jacqueline paused at her open door before stepping outside. She was a little surprised to see Damien’s ute with his two dogs aboard parked at Ethel’s kerb. She thought he would have gone to stay with his mother. Interesting, she thought, and pulled the door closed behind her and s
trode down her path.

  Jacqueline could hear the mutter of voices coming through the screen door from somewhere near the kitchen. There was a hint of urgency to them so, not wanting to interrupt whatever they were doing, she tried the handle and found the door unlocked.

  ‘Hello. Ethel,’ she called loudly.

  ‘In the kitchen, love.’ Ethel’s voice sounded strained.

  Jacqueline surveyed the scene from the doorway. Both Damien and Ethel were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, Damien trying to hold a squirming largish kangaroo and Ethel bent over a tiny joey.

  ‘Eh, can you give us a hand?’ Ethel called breathlessly.

  Jacqueline thought the sight before her quite funny, but one look at Damien’s grim face told her what she was witnessing was far from comedy.

  ‘Hold this,’ Ethel ordered, as Jacqueline squatted next to them, handing her the joey.

  ‘Ooh, aren’t you gorgeous?’ Jacqueline cooed. She’d never seen a baby kangaroo up close before, let alone held one, and this one was trying to bury its head in her chest.

  Looking at Damien, who now had the larger animal spread-eagled on the floor and was spraying it with a plastic spray bottle, Jacqueline noticed how smooth and gentle his movements were and the soothing, clucking tones he was using to reassure the frightened creature. With the liquid flattening the soft downy grey fur, she could see the animal was badly burnt, mostly around its legs. Tears appeared in her eyes without warning. The animal looked in a bad way and she couldn’t bear to see Damien go through any more loss.

  ‘Here, do you mind feeding that one?’ Ethel asked, turning from the sink holding a small plastic bottle with long thin teat waving about on top.

  Carefully shifting the fragile body Jacqueline realised it had fallen asleep; the tiny head tangled in the folds of her oversized blue and white striped T-shirt. Returning Ethel’s warm smile, she accepted the bottle and gently poked the teat between the lips of the joey.

  Two paws began pulling frantically at the bottle and a tiny mouth was sucking like it thought this might be its last meal. Gazing down, Jacqueline felt warmth and hope surging through her veins for the first time that day. She couldn’t believe how rewarding such a simple, natural act could be.