by Jennie Jones
She turned and headed back to the dogs, hoping the raucous yaps were nothing more than an irate indication that she was late in feeding them, and that she wasn’t about to find one of the dogs hurt or injured. She’d discovered the Baxter boys teasing them, which was the main reason she’d sacked them five days after hiring them.
Fifteen minutes later, with the dogs fed and all of them looking well, she made her way across the paddock and towards the house.
Who would want to hurt her or destroy her property? Or was it just young people messing about, bored senseless and having what they referred to as ‘fun’? That was a better thought. But it had to be the Baxters. They’d be upset with her for firing them and running them off her property. Neither had held down a full-time job in their lives. Both had more or less left the family farm for good a few months back, leaving Mr and Mrs Baxter to work it alone. Their grandfather, old Hugh, was no use to anyone either. He liked his bottle too much. How could Mrs Baxter bear it? Maybe Jax ought to drive out and speak to her. Mrs Baxter hardly ever came into town. Too busy labouring on the land and in the kitchen. Jax could bake a cake and take it out as a peace offering.
She halted, pulled a penknife from her back jeans pocket and cut off a small, low-hanging branch from a shady-green mulga tree and some light-grey stems from a bluebush acacia. She needed something pretty to look at, and if she picked some rosemary and lavender from her front garden, this desert-bouquet would look gorgeous in a giant glass jug, sitting on the coffee table in the living room.
She slipped the penknife into her back pocket and reminded herself that from now on she’d have to take her mobile with her everywhere she went. She hadn’t had much need to remember it before now because she was always at the café, and if someone rescued an animal and needed her, they knew where to find her. Mostly, if there were lost or injured animals, the animal welfare volunteers would take first charge. If for some reason a volunteer couldn’t keep the animal, or if it was a bird, then they’d bring it to the café. Everybody knew where to find Jax, and all the volunteers had keys to the caged area behind the café and to the shed where the feed and other equipment was stored. But with Frances living with her now, she wanted to be available for her daughter at a second’s notice.
Inside the kitchen, the house was quiet but all her senses told her there was another soul in her home. How could that sensory perception work so quickly? She’d only been with Frances a couple of days and already she was sensing the child’s presence in the house. It was Frances’s house now, too, she reminded herself. Of course the girl would make an impression and leave her scent between the walls. It was a strawberry scent, if Jax was correct. Frances must have been in the shower. Jax had bought her three kinds of shower gel and shampoo. She had been stunned for a moment when she’d had to choose the shampoo, because she hadn’t known if her daughter’s hair was fine and frizzy, or thick and dry. She’d chosen Normal, which is the one she used, and pushed to the back of her mind the knowledge that she was a mother who didn’t know.
She pulled off her Wellingtons, slipped her feet into her sandals then washed her hands and gathered the glass jug and the bouquet and headed for the living area.
Time to push the getting-acquainted button again. She was determined to get a relationship going with Frances, even if it was a bit low-key, or even if she continued to face belligerence; she was not giving up.
‘There’s a bull at the police station,’ she said as she walked into the living room, noting her daughter was sunk on the sofa, iPhone in hand.
‘So?’
‘No, really. There’s a bull at the police station.’
Frances looked up, her face set in a mask of boredom. She had her feet on the coffee table Jax had meticulously worked on, taking the shiny varnish off and leaving it bare, waxed pine. Not that she minded Frances having her feet on it; Jax was wont to put her feet on it in the evenings when she had a bit of time to relax and read. It’s just that she felt sure Frances was doing it on purpose—to show her disinterest. Or maybe she was waiting for a reaction. Jax wasn’t going to give her one.
‘Donna—my friend who’s a police officer—might show you around the station if you’re interested. They sometimes give a tour to the older kids in town.’
‘Not interested.’ Frances pulled her feet off the coffee table and curled them under her, flushing as she did it and not meeting Jax’s eye.
Maybe she was more aware of her behaviour than Jax had first thought. ‘What did you think of Rosie? She’s not the only character in town. We—’
‘I said I’m not interested.’
Jax halted, but only for a moment. Keep going. Keep pushing the boundary. ‘Well you’d better watch that attitude around Rosita. She won’t let you get away with it.’
‘Who cares?’
‘I do.’ Jax put the cut branches and plant stems onto the dining table. ‘Want a ham sandwich for afternoon tea? It’s roast beef tonight but it won’t be ready until about seven. Gets a bit busy around here in the afternoons, with all the animals.’
Frances shrugged. ‘Whatever you’re making. Don’t do it just for me. I can make my own food.’
‘Do you like cooking? Or baking?’
‘No.’
She’d paused momentarily before speaking and Jax thought that perhaps she did like cooking. Then wondered if it was a talent she’d inherited from Jax, or if Linda had been a good cook and Frances had learned the skill from her.
Jax shoved her fingertips into the pockets of her jeans. She was hanging around, trying to make something work, and it felt like she was pushing too hard. Or in the wrong manner. But what would Frances like to talk about?
She noticed her mobile on the table and picked it up.
‘Is that a good one?’ she asked, indicating Frances’s iPhone, which must be red hot since it was never out of her hands. As far as Jax could tell, she mostly played games on it or listened to music.
‘It’s not the latest. It’s the one before.’
‘I need a new mobile.’ Jax held hers out. ‘I’ve more or less killed the battery on this one.’ She’d need to replace it soon. ‘Do you think mine’s working too slowly? I’m sure it’s the battery.’
Frances took it off her and turned it in her hands as though looking at a fossil. ‘Have you had it since you had me?’
Jax couldn’t help a laugh. ‘Not quite that long.’
‘You can’t even get Facebook on this.’
‘I’m not on Facebook.’
‘Why not?’
‘No time.’
‘Not even the café?’
Jax shook her head. They were having a conversation! It made her heart soar. ‘I doubt anyone would follow it. Take my number down.’ She had to make sure Frances had her number. ‘And Rosita’s. And Rachel’s—take that too. They’re all there, in my contacts. Send them to yourself then you’ll have them on your phone.’ She wanted to give her Donna’s number too, and the direct number for the police station, plus the station’s mobile. But Frances would think it odd that she was plying her with so many numbers to begin with, let alone those of the law. ‘By the way, any number you might need for whatever reason—the vet, the police station, the café, the police mobile—are all on the blackboard in the kitchen. Did you notice the blackboard? It’s a proper schoolroom one from nearly seventy years ago. I got it from a junk shop in Kalgirri.’
Frances shrugged, but Jax had watched her and was happy that Frances had sent the contact numbers from Jax’s phone to her own.
‘I don’t actually like Facebook,’ Frances said. ‘I’ve just got nothing to do out here.’
Jax returned to the cut branches and the glass jug and plopped the branches into the water, then added the lavender and rosemary, arranging them in a natural-looking way, but her thoughts were on something Rosie had said—that Frances only had nineteen Facebook friends. Maybe it was time to broach the schooling thing, and maybe find out why her daughter didn’t have many social media
friends. Not that Jax believed in going overboard with this stuff, but it was worrying, as though perhaps Frances had kept herself apart on purpose. Or worse, that her friends had deserted her because of what Michael had done.
The social worker had said Frances had definitely become a bit reclusive, removing herself from school activity groups she’d previously appeared to enjoy and been good at. She’d apparently cut off her two best friends too, not wanting to keep in touch with them after officials had taken her out of Linda’s house a week before she’d been driven up to Mt Maria. Poor darling Frances—thrown out of her home without a backwards glance from either of her parents. Michael had run off, leaving his wife and daughter at the first whiff of scandal against him, and Linda hadn’t been able to cope. The first thing she’d done was to turn on Frances, saying she was making her life hell. Damn Michael forever. But in this instance—damn Linda. How could anyone take it out on a child?
‘How’d you get stuff like this out here, anyway?’ Frances asked, staring at Jax’s prehistoric mobile.
She didn’t remove the frown from her face, let alone look up, but it had been Frances who had kept the conversation going—and it really warmed Jax’s heart. She was getting it right. Just keep talking. ‘Online. Or I drive to Kalgirri sometimes.’
‘The place I had to stay overnight before Wendy drove me out here?’
Jax nodded. ‘It’s a good city. You can get everything you need. We can go to Kalgirri if you’d like to. I might even buy you the latest iPhone when I buy mine.’ She’d be creating a Facebook profile, and a Twitter account and the Instagram thing too. That way she could monitor Rosie and Frances—and maybe have a bit of fun. Perhaps she would open a Facebook page for the café.
‘No thanks,’ Frances said sulkily. ‘I saved up my pocket money for nearly a year to buy this one. I’d prefer to do things for myself.’
Jax didn’t know whether to linger over the pride she felt that her daughter was prepared to do all this for herself—much like Jax had done at her age—or whether she ought to remind her that Jax was now paying all the bills, including the monthly mobile bill. Best not say anything. It might make her feel like she was being reminded that she had little choice in any matter these days.
But it was time to broach the subject of school. The counsellors had agreed to let Jax inform Frances but had said she must do it soon.
‘Frances, I’d like to tell you about how you’ll be doing high school.’
‘Doing?’ Frances asked, her maudlin frown turning puzzled.
Jax placed a smile on her face. ‘It’s a bit different out here. It’ll be quite exciting though, and a challenge for both of us to begin with, but we’ll work it out.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Frances asked, sinking back into the sofa in trepidation, as though Jax had pulled a gun on her.
Jax headed in. She had to ensure Frances had a clear idea of what was happening, and why. ‘I’ve enrolled you in SIDE—School of Isolated and Distance Education.’
‘You’ve done what?’
‘It sounds long-winded but you’ve been enrolled because of geographical isolation.’ It sounded harsh, not long-winded. It sounded as though it was a punishment. Guilt rose fast. Rosie had finished Year 10 just before they moved to Mt Maria and had refused outright to do any more schooling, so Jax had no experience of handling remote education. Maybe she ought to have taken those lottery winnings and moved them back to Victoria after all. It would have been so much easier for Frances. ‘It’s all the stuff you’re already used to doing. You can learn a language—and I haven’t chosen for you,’ she added.
‘No!’ She said it harshly, distress creasing her face.
Jax ploughed on. ‘We’ll have to determine how to do the health and physical fitness elements, but you’re not alone in being schooled this way, Frances, I promise, and I’ll be helping, coaching, whatever it takes—I’ll help you.’
‘You’re joking!’ She jumped from the sofa, dropping her mobile phone onto the seat as she stood. ‘I’ve got to do it here—in this house—with you?’
Jax nodded, fear creeping up her spine in case this got out of hand. ‘It’s not unusual—’
‘There’s a school here. I saw it when you drove into town this morning.’
There was desperation in her eyes and Jax’s heart smarted for her. ‘It’s a primary school, Frances. You’re heading into Year 7. We have no high school here.’
‘There’s got to be one somewhere!’
‘There is. In Lake Laura, but that’s a hundred and twenty kilometres away.’
‘So I’ll go live there. I’ll do the boarding school thing. Or send me to Perth or somewhere.’ She blinked hard and fast and her thin shoulders were now hunched around her ears as though she was trying to protect herself, physically and mentally.
Jax crossed the room. ‘Franca—Frances—it’s going to be okay. I promise.’
‘No it’s not! You hate me. Everybody hates me.’
‘That’s not true—I love you.’
‘How can you? You didn’t care.’
‘I did. I always cared and I do now—more than ever.’
‘So why give me up? Why didn’t you keep me?’
Had this question always been in her young head? Had it tormented her? ‘Because I was young and I was under pressure from my mother …’ It sounded pathetic. It sounded like an excuse. ‘I didn’t want to give you up but your father suggested it. He told Linda about—’ What had Michael told his wife? Not the truth. ‘He told Linda about the—’ Affair wasn’t the right word.
‘About the night you had sex with him. It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. Just like the other one.’
Jax had a flash of understanding. This was the issue. It wasn’t only about being turfed out of her own home by her step-mother, it wasn’t even about having to live with Jax or about being home schooled. It was about what happened with the other girl.
‘Please sit down,’ she said, indicating the sofa Franca had jumped up from a minute ago.
‘No.’
‘Sit down.’ She didn’t use any confrontation in her tone. She waited out the glare Franca gave her. Then Franca threw herself onto the sofa, arms crossed, making such a deep imprint in the seat cushion that a few feathers flew out of the seam where the zip on the cover hadn’t been done up properly.
Jax sat on the edge of the armchair opposite. ‘We should talk about Linda. We should talk about everything that’s happened to you.’
The child crossed her arms and turned her head to one side.
‘She’s hurt you,’ Jax continued. ‘Your father has hurt you too—more than Linda.’
Jax held her breath and waited out the bitter silence. Perhaps she ought to simply head straight in, the way Rosie would. But Jax didn’t have the same relationship with Franca that her sister had—a bit unconventional though that aunt–niece relationship was at the moment. Rosie would be more of an older friend or sister to Franca. Jax would always be her mother. Even though the roles were completely new to both of them. It was always going to be a difficult conversation, but Jax persisted, knowing it was the right time.
‘It’s possible that the parents of the young woman will continue to investigate, or at least keep asking questions of the authorities.’
‘He didn’t do what they’re saying,’ Frances said at last, eyes down, features taut. ‘He was just being kind to that girl.’
‘She’s sixteen, and your father is forty-nine.’ He’d been grooming her; it’s what he’d done to Jax.
‘The police aren’t accusing him,’ Jax said. They couldn’t press charges because there wasn’t enough evidence. But it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Jax wasn’t sure it was only the second time he’d done it—who knew what he’d been hiding over the years?
There was no pregnancy. Not even sex. Unlike with Jax. But there would have been, if the girl’s parents hadn’t stepped in to query Michael about his interest in their daughter.
&nbs
p; ‘Her parents are lying,’ Franca said sullenly.
‘After they found the text messages from your father, of course they were concerned. Any parent would be.’ Oh, he’d done it. Enticed his way into the girl’s life by being a helpful boss, a friend she could turn to. It would have just been a matter of time before things got sexual, and Michael knew how to persuade. He knew how to wait.
‘But they were just ordinary work messages.’
It looked that way, but Michael was clever. The text messages were ambiguous; a kind word about the girl’s work ethics, another about how welcoming her smile was each morning. A few words of encouragement about how the company liked to reward committed employees. But he shouldn’t have been texting her at all. He held what the police said was a supervisory role as one of the managers in the accounting firm.
Jax knew the messages were only the start. Given time, Michael would have suggested a coffee catch-up outside of work hours. By the end of the morning, he’d be holding her arm as he walked her to the train station or the bus stop. Then he’d suggest another meet-up. A different café. After a few more seemingly innocuous meetings outside work, he’d suggest they have lunch one weekend. Eventually, he’d play his trump card. He’d advise her, sadly, that it might be best if they didn’t meet up again, knowing that the girl would resist, saying it wasn’t fair, saying she was old enough to make her own decisions …
‘Her parents have got it wrong,’ Frances proclaimed, with a look in her eye that said she was praying they’d got it wrong.
‘I think they know their daughter, and were worried for her and that’s why they stepped in. It’s possible she was being coerced into a relationship,’ Jax explained, as patiently and gently as she could. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened, Frances. I understand how hurt and shocked you must be.’ She had to be careful what she said because she didn’t know what might happen next. As it stood, the police couldn’t do anything, due to the uncertain nature of the text messages. The young girl herself was refusing to say anything derogatory about Michael, possibly because of fear of what she’d nearly done. Jax hadn’t known Michael was married, she hadn’t a clue, but this young girl knew and she was probably feeling ashamed. Plus, she was only sixteen and no matter that she was at the age of legal consent, what knowledge of the real world did she have? Thank God her parents had stepped in. Their daughter wouldn’t have enough worldliness to deter a predator with an air of dejection about him; a man who was so obviously put-upon at home, and whose whole world got rosier and lighter of heart when he sat and talked with a young girl who seemed to understand him.