Wattle Creek

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘You can’t start the day with a badly made cuppa. It sets the tone for everything that follows, I reckon,’ Philip said.

  ‘I wasn’t going to poison him, Dad,’ Jacqueline protested.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Philip said, rolling his eyes at her.

  ‘Now I really have to get going,’ she said. ‘Are you going to look after these old fogies for me?’ she said, looking at Damien.

  ‘No worries,’ he said. He loved how well they got on together. There was a pang in his stomach and he thought that if only his dad hadn’t got sick his family might have been the same.

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’ Philip asked when Jacqueline had left.

  ‘Well, I’ll take you over and see the roos, then since I still have the ute I can offer you that drive around I promised. No coffee at my place though, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Okay. But I really meant your long-term plans.’ Damien noticed his kind, fatherly tone.

  ‘Oh. Well, I’m not too sure. Going to take a week or so to think things through. I don’t want to rush it and make any stupid decisions.’ Damien had a few ideas, but wasn’t prepared to share them yet. He needed to put more thought into them and make some enquiries first.

  ‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ Philip said, nodding approvingly. ‘If there’s anything Eileen and I can do to help, you only have to ask.’

  ‘Yes, if there’s anything at all we can do,’ Eileen echoed. Damien could tell their offer was genuine. He suddenly found himself wishing they lived closer to Wattle Creek.

  ‘Thank you, that’s really nice,’ he said. He knew nothing else would cover how he felt without sounding like a blubbering idiot.

  ‘So, shall we go?’ Philip asked, thumping the table.

  ‘Yep, but I’m happy to wait if you’ve got stuff to do first.’

  ‘I just want to clean my teeth and then I’m ready when you are,’ Eileen said brightly.

  ‘I’ll grab my bag from the car on the way past,’ Philip said as he stood up.

  Damien hoped Jacqueline appreciated her parents like they deserved. But we don’t while they’re here, do we? he mused, as he led them across the road to his auntie Ethel’s. Auntie Ethel had already left to do some grocery shopping.

  Bob and Cara, tied to the verandah post, looked at him with distain for daring to interrupt their newfound luxurious living arrangements and warned him not to even think about expecting them to work. He gave them a pat and told them not to worry, that after yesterday’s efforts they deserved the whole week off.

  Philip Havelock instinctively ran a hand over them and muttered something about them being in good nick. Damien reckoned Bob and Cara had detected the scent of vet because they tried to move away from him.

  Squish bounded up to the door and Damien felt certain he was yelling, ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ When Damien had left, Squish had refused to leave his place in the kitchen beside the joey where he’d spent the whole night.

  ‘Here he is,’ Philip said, scooping up the puppy. ‘Glad you kept him.’

  ‘Me too,’ Damien said, ruffling Squish’s silky ears.

  ‘They suck you in pretty quick, don’t they?’ Philip continued.

  ‘Damn right. I couldn’t give him up now if I wanted to. Shhh,’ he warned Philip and Eileen, as they went through the kitchen to where the sack containing the joey hung from the back of a chair. He held the bag open slightly so they could take turns peeking inside.

  ‘Wow,’ Eileen breathed, ‘it’s so tiny. I knew your auntie was talented, but she’s amazing,’ she added, running a finger down the hessian bag.

  ‘Yeah, she’s amazing alright. Wait till you really get to know her. She spent years out on the farm helping raise wildlife.’ Damien ushered them towards the back door.

  Having given the larger kangaroo a quick once-over, Philip said what a great job Damien and Ethel had done with the young buck. Damien swelled a little with pride at hearing the words, especially as they were coming from a vet. It gave him more hope for what he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing.

  He didn’t say anything though. It was quite possibly a ridiculous idea and he still had more to think through before he got too carried away. But he was excited. It was like putting the last pieces into a puzzle that hadn’t made any sense until then.

  Damien wondered if perhaps everything that had happened during his life had been preparing him for this. He wanted to share his revelation with the world, but didn’t want his idea squashed before being able to defend it. He decided he’d talk things over with his auntie Ethel that night. She was bound to have all the answers.

  He told them Ethel was applying for a permit so they wouldn’t get into any trouble caring for the injured roos. Apparently if you rescued animals and only had them for forty-eight hours, National Parks and Wildlife wouldn’t prosecute you for keeping them without a permit. But for any longer, and for multiple animals, you’d need a permit.

  The young buck was wary of the visitors, but seemed relatively content munching on the lawn under the shade of the large weeping willow. Damien thought the setting was one of those picture perfect moments.

  Philip said he thought the kangaroo would need about a week’s monitoring in case the blisters got infected. Damien really hoped he could still be released, but knew the longer he was in captivity and dependent on humans, the less chance he had of ever being able to go back to the wild.

  The thought of seeing him bound back into the scrub was exhilarating to Damien. But it was bad news for the little orphan sleeping soundly in his bundle back in the kitchen. Because he was being hand-reared he’d never be able to be released. Still, he’d surely have a better life than if I’d left him out there to die, Damien mused.

  Damien only realised he’d driven the last ten kilometres in total silence when Eileen asked, ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll understand if you don’t want to see everything so soon,’ Philip offered kindly.

  ‘Oh no, it’s not that. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. Didn’t sleep so well.’ He reluctantly refocused his attention on giving a tour, complete with commentary. As they drove he explained what crops were grown where, which soils were which, and who owned what.

  At the last paddock before his boundary Eileen suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh, it’s gorgeous!’

  He slowed the ute, unsure what she was referring to, and looked about frowning. She was pointing to the little limestone cottage to their left. Damien had driven past the place so many times he’d stopped noticing its rustic, falling-down presence ages ago.

  ‘Do you own it and can we go in there?’ Eileen sounded like a kid wanting to open her Christmas presents early.

  ‘No, I don’t own it and yes, we can go in there,’ he said, and pulled the ute to the side of the road where a wire gate was overgrown with weeds and grasses. Apologising, he explained they’d have to walk in because he didn’t want to risk a tyre on the spiky spinifex.

  Up close Damien realised the cottage was bigger than he’d remembered. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed its charm before, but, still, it was pretty well past salvaging.

  As they walked through the building, Damien was surprised to find the majority of the floorboards were intact – weathered silvery grey but still relatively sound. He thought it amazing given the cottage hadn’t been lived in for over thirty years. It could only mean one thing – jarrah.

  The roof was still on, but pinholes allowed tiny specks of morning sun to dot the dusty timber below. The ceilings had fallen in long ago and plaster lay in raised piles in the centre of each room.

  Eileen wandered about, gaping in awe. ‘Wow, look at this,’ she called from the next room.

  Philip and Damien went in to find her crouching by the fireplace, where she’d pushed aside a pile of dust. Revealed below was what looked to Damien like a solid slab of raw chalky slate edged in fancy old tiles. Living in a modern hou
se, he’d forgotten how ornate things as simple as hearths had once been.

  Back outside, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Philip waiting for Eileen to finish her excited rushing about taking in every single detail.

  ‘So, who owns it?’ Philip asked while he pushed dirt around with the toe of an immaculate deep tan RM Williams’ square-toe boot.

  ‘Old Ted Turner. Well, he used to,’ Damien corrected himself. ‘He died donkey’s years ago. The family always let Dad use the land for grazing – more to keep the grass down than anything else. I haven’t spoken to them for years. There’s only about twenty acres and I’ve got enough land of my own. That line of scrub,’ he said, sweeping a hand around, ‘that’s the boundary.’

  They made their way back to the ute and waited for Eileen. After what seemed hours, she finally bounded back, face flushed and looking excited.

  ‘I think it would make a wonderful B&B,’ she stated, clambering back into the centre of the vehicle while Philip held the door open. ‘What do you think, Philip?’ she asked when seated.

  ‘Wow, where’s this coming from?’ Philip laughed.

  ‘Can’t you just imagine it?’ She put her hands up to the window in a framing gesture.

  ‘It’s pretty run-down,’ Philip warned.

  ‘Of course I’m no builder, but maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. But you haven’t said what you think?’ Eileen continued.

  ‘I think if you’re this excited, we’ll look into it,’ he said as he smiled warmly and patted her knee. ‘Damien says there’s twenty acres here, so perhaps we could have a couple of cottages. Wait and see if the Turners want to sell first.’

  Damien was amazed at how supportive Philip was being. The place was almost a ruin, yet he’d said he was willing to look into it. He reversed back a bit so they could see the full picture. He decided it was actually a really nice setting.

  He imagined a nice white-gravelled driveway, a cottage garden all rambling and multicoloured, and the bull-nosed verandah with shiny white lacework all around it. They could even put a nice house with all the mod cons up behind it on the hill if they wanted. The sea was only fifteen kilometres away and the patchwork of farmland was a pretty cool view if you liked that sort of thing.

  Hang on a second, Damien thought, that would mean they’d have to move out here to Wattle Creek. And Philip was agreeing when it meant leaving everything behind? He wondered if there was more to this. But then he was just some local they’d met while visiting their daughter, so why would they tell him anything?

  He looked out his window, smiling. How excellent would it be to have Philip and Eileen as neighbours? Please let this be real, he silently prayed, to no one in particular.

  ‘Um, there’s something we want to share with you,’ Philip said after clearing his throat. ‘We were going to wait until we’d told Jacqueline, but we haven’t done that yet because there hasn’t been a right time. Well anyway, we’re considering retiring to the country and have decided Wattle Creek is the place for us.’

  You bloody beauty. Damien added a silent thank you to whomever it was he’d addressed before.

  ‘Wow, that’s great,’ he said. He felt like hugging them.

  ‘Thing is – and this is the bit that’s difficult to tell Jacqueline – my arthritis is playing up and I’m having trouble doing surgery these days. I’ve got a lad, Jeffrey, gradually taking over the practice. I want to be able to enjoy my retirement.

  ‘It’s all rather sudden. We’ve only just decided if we’re going to do it, it has to be sooner rather than later. But we’re a little concerned how Jacqueline will take it,’ he added.

  ‘She’d love you living closer,’ Damien blurted. Well he would. He had no idea what she’d want. He could hardly believe he’d only recently met them.

  ‘So if you could keep this to yourself until we tell her, we’d really appreciate it.’

  ‘No worries,’ he said. There was silence for a few moments until Damien broke it with a cheery, ‘Shall we continue our tour?’

  ‘Yes, drive on James,’ Philip said in a faked toffy accent. Remaining silent, Eileen stared at the little cottage until it was out of sight, gnawing at her lower lip.

  Damien slowed the ute to a crawl as they approached the remains of his house and nearby sheds. Philip asked him if he wanted to stop and have a look through, but Damien shook his head and drove on.

  Watching people on TV pick through the ashes of burnt-out homes had always made Damien feel awkward and he was sure it would be the same for Eileen and Philip. None of them needed it. Maybe I’ll forget the guns, Damien thought. He’d prefer the whole lot was just bulldozed into a heap and carted away. There was really no point in looking back through the past. The future was all that mattered now, and he reckoned he had that sorted.

  Apart from showing the Havelocks around, there were two things he did want to check: his dad’s stash of clearing sale finds hidden in the old shed out by the back road. He also needed to know if the wedge-tailed eagle nest his father had first shown him eighteen years before had survived the fire. There wouldn’t be any young until around next September, but he wanted to make sure the nest they’d added to over the years was still here for them.

  Damien was pleased to find it was, just at the edge of the burnt patch but looked intact. The trio sat with the ute idling at a safe distance while Damien pointed out the nest to Eileen and Philip and explained how the eagles mated for life and kept adding sticks to the same nest year after year. He knew Philip would already know all that, but couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. They seemed genuinely interested and amazed when he told them how long he’d been watching this pair.

  If the house hadn’t burned down he could have shown them the fantastic photos of the eagles’ babies all those years ago. His dad had come by every few days to take shots with the zoom, careful not to disturb the birds, and had captured a visual record of their growth over a number of months. It had taken Damien a while to appreciate his dad’s dedication, but reckoned this year he’d take some photos of his own.

  Great, the fire had gone nowhere near the old shed full of the hoarded stuff. If his plan came off he’d probably need all of it.

  Parked, Eileen and Philip looked at Damien like he was mad as he oohed and aahed over what to them probably looked like nothing but a pile of rusty corrugated iron, misshapen rolls of second-hand fencing wire, and stacks of wood in all shapes and sizes.

  ‘Surely you’re not going to use this to build a house?’ Philip said.

  ‘No, I’ve got something else in mind.’

  ‘But they’re just piles of old junk,’ Eileen said, looking about doubtfully.

  ‘You know, that’s what people are going to say about that old house you want to do up.’ Damien wasn’t offended, but he couldn’t help raising his eyebrows knowingly.

  ‘Oh,’ Eileen said, a bit deflated.

  ‘No, I’m not putting your idea down. It’s just that … you know … that saying, “Someone’s trash is someone else’s treasure”. Well, all this, as bad as it looks, can be put to use.’ And it would. He could see it now.

  ‘I’m sure it can,’ Philip said, sounding less than convinced.

  ‘Well, see those lumps of four-by-four? They’re just the thing for uprights. I’ll cut the rusty patches out of the iron, I don’t need the sheets to be that long. And I’ll use the longer four-by-twos for extra-long posts and staple two rows of that fence wire one on top of the other. Perfect.’

  Wow, this is brilliant, Damien thought, but he could see Philip and Eileen still weren’t getting it. So, he’d just have to prove it. Anyway, he had to tell someone else he reckoned he might burst. He could see his mum rolling her eyes and telling him he was being ridiculous, when he told her, but somehow he knew the Havelocks would never do the same.

  ‘I’ve decided I’m going to … um … er …’ This was proving way harder than he’d thought.

  ‘Yes?’ Philip urged.

  ‘Well, you know how …’ Shi
t, he couldn’t do it. What if it was ridiculous?

  ‘What?’ they screeched in unison, and then laughed.

  ‘Come on, you’ve obviously decided something,’ Eileen urged.

  ‘Yes, don’t keep us in suspense,’ Philip said, his excitement evident.

  ‘Okay, I’m …’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Jacqueline walked home weighed down with homemade cakes, biscuits and slices that sympathetic townsfolk had popped in with while making sure she was really okay and offering their condolences on the loss of her car. She smiled inwardly at their apparently innocent enquiries after Damien’s health and state of mind, which were really a way of trying to ascertain if the news of a romance was correct. It wouldn’t matter what her answer was anyway because the town had already made up their mind, and that, in her limited experience, was that. Secretly she wished she had something positive to say on that front.

  Jacqueline thought her parents would have dropped by to give her a lift, and she became increasingly annoyed as she trudged home with her arms full of the goodies that seemed heavier every step she took. She told herself not to be so selfish – they were probably still with Damien and she knew he needed them.

  Jacqueline was almost disappointed to see Damien’s ute across the street and her parents’ car in the driveway. She was exhausted and was craving a lazy few moments in front of the television before having to be sociable again and tackling dinner. Instead, there was a hum of voices coming from the kitchen.