Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘You’ll get your chance,’ said Mel. ‘But you can forget about the wildlife corridor. I’ve got to be honest, Kim, I hate dingoes.’ Dusty put his paw on her knee and she stroked his soft ears. ‘I won’t be party to building them a direct highway to my sheep.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be like that —’

  ‘Stop it!’ It was almost a shout. Dusty whined, and lay down in the corner. ‘You have no idea how it will be, Kim. This is just an interesting experiment for you.’ Mel’s tone was taut. ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you? You only said something because I mentioned the baits.’

  The silence yawned between them – Kim unable to meet Mel’s eyes – then Kim’s phone rang from under a pile of papers on the table. The theme song from Lambert, the Sheepish Lion. The caller’s timing couldn’t have been worse.

  Mel dragged a hand over her face. ‘You’d better answer it, and I’d better go.’

  Kim turned off the phone. ‘Whoever it is, they can ring back.’

  But Mel was already leaving. She turned at the door. ‘We were never partners, were we? Not really. Maybe not even friends.’

  And before Kim could think of a response, she was gone.

  Kim felt hollow, empty. Mel had become an important part of her life. Had she betrayed her? The thought was unbearable.

  CHAPTER 29

  Kim put the little quoll back in its log with a few meal worms, refilled the water bowl and shut the gate. They were doing so well. Louie had put on a record amount of weight. Mel would be pleased . . . if she knew, that was. Two days since she’d told Mel about the dingoes, and Kim hadn’t seen her since.

  The rhythmic sound of an axe on wood rang out. Jake’s enthusiasm for chopping firewood was really paying off now it was winter. Kim went back to the house, passing the woodshed on the way. She found Abbey trying to teach Dusty to collect kindling. He had the hang of finding and picking up sticks okay. Bringing them back was another matter, and involved a vigorous game of chasey.

  Jake was piling evenly-sized logs into the wheelbarrow. He’d become an expert at using the splitter wedge that Ben had given him. Kim watched her son unawares for a while – so strong and sure of himself. What a difference Tingo had made to Jake, and much of it was due to Ben. Kim was becoming more and more open to the possibility of Ben. Handsome, charming, reliable. He made sense in so many ways. He helped fill the gap left in her life since Taj had pulled away.

  Better get a move on. Ben was coming round tonight for dinner. Time to chop the vegetables, get the roast on, have a shower.

  When Kim got back to the house, she rang Mel, but the call went to voicemail. It was funny. How many times had she wished her neighbour wasn’t quite so eager to be friends? And yet now, when Mel was staying away? Kim missed her terribly. She toyed with the idea of dropping by unannounced, but decided against it. Mel needed some time to adjust. She’d come round. As long as she didn’t tell anybody else, there was no harm done.

  ‘Dingoes?’ Ben said, when she opened the door. ‘What sort of crazy idea is that? Taj should know better.’ He put down the loaf of bread he was carrying on the bench. ‘I’m running steers, not cows and calves, so I should be right. Wouldn’t want to be Mel, though. Her sheep will be like sitting ducks.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Kim.

  Ben smiled. ‘So now the Sydney girl’s an expert on sheep, is she?’

  ‘I’m serious. A maremma dog guards Mel’s weaners, and Taj has trained the dingoes to avoid sheep by lacing carcasses with a chemical that makes them sick. There’s plenty of natural prey, so there’s nothing to make them turn into stock killers.’

  ‘It’s instinct.’ Ben put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Steer clear of Taj from now on, will you?’ His voice brimmed with concern. ‘You’d best be ready to cop some flak. Tingo’s a tiny town full of big opinions. Everybody’s going to want their two bob’s worth on this one.’

  How right he was.

  The next morning Kim went to the store to collect the mail. ‘Mel told me what you’re doing,’ said Winnie. ‘Bringing back the dingoes. I saw a Landline program about it. The cattle station up north – Evelyn Downs – they’re leaving the dingoes alone to keep the roos and foxes down. Cats too. It’s working apparently.’ She turned to her husband. ‘You should have seen the puppies, Des. Cutest things ever.’

  ‘Cute?’ said Des. ‘Bloodthirsty killers, more like. Kill for fun, they do. I’m sorry to say it, Kim, but it’s a crime, what you’re doing. Bad enough the government lets the mongrels breed up in Tarringtops, without letting them wreak havoc in farmland as well. Just wait until Mel Masters starts losing sheep. You’ll soon change your tune.’

  Kim refused to engage in the argument and went home. She needed to stay positive. It had been weeks since their release and the dingoes hadn’t caused any trouble yet, unless you counted wild talk as trouble. So long as they continued to behave there was every chance that the interest in them would blow over.

  As she pulled into her drive, her phone sounded in her pocket. She sprinted up the hill to a spot near the dam that sometimes had reception. ‘Hello.’ The caller hung on the line without speaking. ‘Hello? Who is this?’

  ‘It’s me, Kim. Daisy.’ A hesitation. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Daisy? Oh my god!’ Kim felt a loosening of something within her that she hadn’t known was wound tight. ‘I’ve never been happier to hear anybody’s voice in my life.’

  She and Daisy launched into exhaustive accounts of their lives since they’d last met. Sometimes taking turns. Sometimes talking over each other in a jumble of words, eager to make up for lost time. Neither of them mentioned the fight that had torn them apart. There would be time for that later.

  When Kim came up for air, an hour had passed, but she was loath to end the conversation.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Daisy said, ‘school holidays start next week, and Steve’s away. Do you have room for visitors at your country hideaway?’

  ‘Do I ever.’

  A wave of relief and joy washed over her. She would see her best friend again; for that’s what Daisy was, in spite of their differences, in spite of the ugliness that had marred their last morning together. There would never be a substitute for Daisy. Old friends, shared histories, common understandings. She walked back to the house, past the firewheel tree, now empty of its whorled flowers, and thoughts of Taj flickered into her mind. How sad for him to never know these things again.

  Dusty sensed her excitement. He gambolled about, acting the clown, stealing Kim’s hat and making her laugh. She couldn’t wait for Daisy and her children to meet him – and the joeys and quolls and the rest of the menagerie. Couldn’t wait to show them round Journey’s End – Cedar Creek, the rainforest, Devil Falls. Couldn’t wait till after school to tell Abbey and Jake about the coming visit. She wished already that the week would fly by.

  It didn’t. The days dragged. Mel stayed away. Kim made overtures of friendship, inviting her round for lunch one day and on a shopping trip to Taree the next. Both times Mel declined. Todd and Nikki stayed away too. Fortunately the kids were so excited by the prospect of Daisy’s visit, they didn’t take much notice. Abbey chattered away to Grace on the landline for what seemed like hours each night, making plans and seamlessly picking up their friendship.

  Taj came by mid-week. So far it had been a particularly warm, dry winter and they spent the morning carting water to the regeneration sites. Since reintroducing the dingoes, the improvement in the plants’ growth and survival was staggering. They could almost see the seedlings grow.

  They went about their work in silence, each in their own private world. If Taj knew that their secret was out he didn’t say. She needed to explain why she’d told Mel, but kept putting it off. Only when they came across a freshly killed wallaby above Cedar Creek did she pluck up the courage.

  Taj listened in silence to her story, his face grave. ‘So Ben saw a dingo?’

  ‘That’s what Mel
said. Down on the road. She was going to put down baits. I had to tell her.’

  ‘How did she take it?’

  ‘She thinks we betrayed her and don’t care about her sheep. Then she told Winnie and Ben. Word’s getting around.’

  Taj frowned. ‘Let me talk to her. I hoped the dingoes would stay up near Tarringtops, where we released them. They’re far too visible down here by the creek.’ He inspected the earth around the wallaby carcass, and then knelt down for a closer look. ‘See here?’ He pointed to a large paw-print. ‘This is not one of our dingoes. They have been joined by a wild one.’

  Taj was an expert tracker. She’d seen him track wombats to their burrows, and foxes to their dens. She’d seen him follow the trail of a deer injured by hunters, so he could put it out of its misery. And he had an uncanny ability to recognise the spoor of each member of the dingo pack.

  ‘A wild one. Is that good or bad?’

  ‘Good, I think. Right now, our dingoes are babes in the woods. A wild adult will show them how to stay out of sight, how to hunt more effectively as a team. Teach them the way of the pack.’

  ‘Did this ever happen in Nuristan?’ asked Kim. ‘Did wild wolves ever join the cubs you released?’

  But he would not be drawn. They got back in the ute, and drove to the next site in silence. He’d shut down again.

  Kim gazed out the window, arms crossed over her chest. Taj wouldn’t talk to her. Mel wouldn’t talk to her. The dingoes weren’t a safe subject to bring up with Ben or any of the townsfolk. Daisy on the other hand? She was an outsider, with no stake in any of this. What a relief it would be to have her there.

  CHAPTER 30

  Kim yawned and scratched her nose. She might be half-asleep, but she still knew what day it was. Daisy day.

  Jake poked his head in. ‘I can’t find Dusty. He wasn’t in my room when I woke up.’

  Kim rubbed sleep from her eyes and checked the time. Eight o’clock. ‘He probably got sick of waiting, and took himself for a walk. You should get up earlier.’ It had been an unseasonably warm night for late June, and she’d left the back door open to catch the breeze. Dusty had long since learned to open the screen door for himself.

  She fell back on the pillow, still tired. It had been a late night: cooking, cleaning, making sure everything was perfect for Daisy’s arrival at lunchtime. There was still plenty to do. Sweep. Make up mattresses on the floor for Grace and Stuart. Put clean sheets on the bed in the side verandah room for Daisy.

  Abbey came in, sleepy-eyed and clutching Percy, something she didn’t do so much anymore. She climbed into bed with Kim and snuggled close. ‘I want to go back to sleep, so when I wake up, Grace will already be here.’

  How very Abbey. On Christmas Eve she always wanted to go to bed at lunchtime, to make Santa come more quickly.

  ‘None of that.’ Kim wrapped her arms around her daughter, inhaling the sweet scent of her silky curls. ‘You’ve got to help me get things ready.’

  ‘Can we make chocolate crackles? They’re Grace’s favourite.’

  ‘Of course we can,’ said Kim, tickling Abbey into peals of musical laughter.

  ‘Does this mean you and Daisy are friends again?’

  ‘We were always friends,’ said Kim.

  ‘Grace says you weren’t. Grace says you and her mum had a fight.’

  Kim sat up, facing Abbey, who hugged her knees to her chest. ‘Remember that time when Grace stayed the night and hid Percy in the laundry cupboard when it was time to go to bed?’

  Abbey nodded solemnly, and snatched Percy up from the pillow. ‘She thought it was funny.’

  ‘But you’re still friends, right, even though she made you sad by hiding something that meant a lot to you? Even though you were mad at her for a while?’

  Abbey twirled a finger in her hair. ‘Did Daisy hide your wine?’

  Kim smiled. The sheer enormity of her love for Abbey threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Never mind. Let’s get chocolate crackling.’

  It was past two o’clock when Daisy’s silver Tarago bumped its way up the long driveway. Abbey, who’d been waiting down by the gate, had hitched a ride to the house. She and Grace tumbled from the car, laughing and talking over each other.

  ‘Those two have certainly taken up where they left off,’ said Daisy.

  Kim stepped forward and gave her a long, heartfelt hug. ‘Remind me to never argue with you again.’

  Jake and Stu were more circumspect. They greeted one other with grunts, then stood around, eyeing each other off as Daisy unloaded an unnecessary number of bags.

  Stu looked around. ‘Where’s your dog?’

  Kim looked up. ‘Hasn’t Dusty come home yet?’ Jake shook his head. A worm of concern turned in her stomach. It wasn’t like the pup to wander away for so long. ‘Why don’t you take Stu and go have a look for him?’

  Jake nodded. ‘There’s an old tractor,’ he told Stu. ‘And a grader. Want to see?’ The boys went off, side by side. Kim felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched them go.

  Daisy touched her arm. ‘Now that’s a sight for sore eyes. Stu’s really missed Jake, although he’d never admit it. He could hardly sleep last night.’

  ‘Jake was the same.’ Kim laughed. ‘To tell you the truth, so was I.’ She gave Daisy another hug. ‘Come on. Let’s get your stuff inside.’

  Kim showed Daisy where to put the bags, and gave her a tour of the house.

  ‘Oh, look at this wallpaper,’ Daisy said as they moved through the hallway with the silver banksia print. The two women stood in front of Connor’s mural in Abbey’s room for a long time, Daisy with a soft hand on Kim’s arm.

  ‘Kim, this place is so very you.’

  It didn’t hurt to look at the mural anymore; it hadn’t for a long time. As they went back to the kitchen, Kim felt light and free. Ben would be here soon, and she was looking forward to showing him off. She could hear a car slowing on Bangalow Road, and then making the turn.

  But when she went outside to see, it wasn’t Ben. An ancient Dodge truck was parked in the drive. Kim’s stomach lurched. The body of a black and tan dog was strung up to the back of the tray by its hind legs. Its plumed tail hung down, hiding its face. Half-a-dozen foxes and three huge tabby cats dangled beside it. A foul odour wafted towards her.

  A man in a blue singlet leaned out of the driver’s window, smoking a cigarette. Lean face, pockmarked with scars, eyes almost hidden by a grimy bush hat. ‘Afternoon, love. Just shot this dingo down by the creek. Better keep an eye out. Where there’s one of these buggers, there’s bound to be more.’ He flicked his ash onto the ground. ‘I could do a bit of shooting on your place, if you like.’

  Ben’s car came into sight. He parked behind the pick-up, and got out, taking in Kim’s ashen face and the bloody bodies in the truck. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘I was telling your missus . . .’

  ‘Mum?’ Jake and Stu came round the corner of the house, and stopped dead. Dusty trotted at their heels, and Kim’s legs went wobbly with relief.

  ‘Take Dusty inside and give him a feed,’ she said.

  Jake frowned and pointed to the truck. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Just take him inside, quickly.’

  Jake hesitated. He set his jaw as if he was ready to argue, but the urgency in her voice finally had the desired effect. Dusty and the boys left.

  Ben went over and leaned on the tray of the truck. ‘Where’d you shoot that feller?’

  The driver managed to talk without letting the cigarette fall from his lips. ‘About a hundred metres from your front gate, mate.’

  Kim tried to avert her eyes from the dingo, but couldn’t. It looked like Dusty. Larger and heavier, true, but nobody seeing the two of them together would miss the resemblance. ‘We have young children here. I don’t want them upset, so . . .’

  The pick-up driver flipped his butt out the window. ‘Just trying to be neighbourly, love. A “thank you” wouldn’t go astray.’

  Kim st
epped forward. If he wanted thanks for killing the dingo, quite possibly trespassing to do so, he had another thing coming. Ben moved to diffuse the situation. ‘Better go, mate. A house full of city kids – you know how it is.’

  The man cast her a last baleful glance, grunted something incomprehensible, and wound up the window. The truck rattled and swayed off down the drive.

  ‘Who on earth was he?’

  ‘A fox scalper. Professional shooter. He’ll make a few bucks selling those skins.’

  Kim shuddered. ‘What sort of person does that?’

  Ben wrapped strong, comforting arms around her. ‘It takes all kinds. You said yourself that foxes and cats are wiping out the wildlife. He’s doing you a favour.’

  ‘If you’d thanked him, I would have slapped you.’

  Ben laughed. ‘I guessed as much.’ The clean, fresh smell of his aftershave cut through the stink lingering in her nostrils. ‘He thought we were hitched, you know,’ said Ben. ‘Called you my missus.’ He kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘Perks of marriage.’

  ‘Oh really,’ she said.

  Neither of them moved. She could easily have leaned in, touched his lip with her fingers. Did she want to kiss him back? Yes and no. She wished she could figure out her feelings. An image of Taj flickered into her mind, unbidden. She chased it away, and then took a step backwards. Had Daisy been watching through the window? The kiss could take some explaining.

  ‘Thanks for getting rid of him.’ Her voice was deliberately casual. ‘I owe you. Now come and meet my friend.’

  Ben was a hit with Daisy and her kids, as Kim knew he would be. Grace, unlike Abbey, was endlessly amused by him. He pulled a dollar from behind her ear, did a clever card trick, and knew what colour crayon she picked from a box, just by feeling it behind his back.

  ‘I run my finger along the wax to get a bit of colour under my nail,’ he confessed to Kim in a whisper.

  ‘Do that trick again with Abbey,’ demanded Grace, ‘to prove it wasn’t a fluke.’