Ah well, she needed to get the animals out of the dam before they contaminated the water any further. Fixing the rope around one of the dead sheep’s legs, she rode slowly away, dragging the animal behind the bike. She steered towards a cluster of trees which would become the ewe’s final resting place. Breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench, she unhooked the rope and rode back to the dam to remove the other dead animal.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Amanda made her way back to the house. She knew her father would be in his office, listening to the radio and drinking beer. Avoiding her.
As a child, the house had been bright and cheerful, full of laughter and fun. Her mother, Helena, had been a wonderful cook and gardener, as well as working alongside her father and keeping up with her original profession, journalism,by writing an occasional article for the rural papers. Since her death, the garden had grown wild and the house had lost its cosiness. It seemed to understand the occupants were slowly self-destructing.
Pushing open the door of her mother’s study, Amanda was hit by the smell. Finally the room smelled fresh and clean. It was like someone loved it again. When Amanda had first summonsed the courage to open the door, not long after the accident, it had still smelled like her mum. The moisturiser she used, her shampoo and soap. The book she was reading had been on the coffee table and the latest editorial she’d been working on sat unfinished on her desk.
The fragrance had faded over the months and when it had started to smell musty and rank Amanda knew she had to do something. She couldn’t bear leaving her mother’s favourite room to become unloved, so two weeks ago she had moved her computer onto the desk and claimed the area for her own. Her father had watched grimly as she had flung open the curtains, brushed the dust away and set a vase of her Mum’s favourite lavender on the table. He wouldn’t set foot over the threshold, arguing that it was Helena’s space and should be left the way it was.
Amanda hadn’t heeded his wishes, and tonight she opened the window and sat on the soft couch where her mother used to curl up and read on rainy days with her feet tucked up under her, her long, dark, wavy hair tumbling over the couch’s arm.
There was a photo on the desk showing Helena, Brian and a young Amanda in the garden. Amanda could just recall the day it was taken. The drought-breaking rains arrived from nowhere. A fierce storm had swept through, cooling the sweltering day, but it hadn’t fazed her mum, who was clothed in a thin cotton dress. She had danced in the rain, her arms outstretched and face turned towards the heavens as she laughed with joy, with hope. Her dad had run from the shed and taken his wife in his arms and together they’d delighted in the downpour, while their only child had watched from the verandah in wonder.
Fifty-three was too young to die, thought Amanda, tears springing to her eyes. And twenty-two was too young to lose your mum. She buried her head in the cushion, hoping to catch a hint of the fading essence of her mother.
Later that night, Amanda woke from a restless sleep, thirsty. Stumbling out to the kitchen to get a drink of water, she was alarmed by odd noises coming from her dad’s room. She made for the door, but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of gut-wrenching sobs and muttered words. Quietly pushing the door open a crack, she peered in. Standing at the foot of the bed with his back to her was her dad, his shoulders heaving with sobs. He held a photograph of Helena, the silver frame reflecting in the moonlight that filtered through the open curtain.
‘Why, Helena, why? How could this happen after everything we’ve been through? After all we did to stay together? How could you leave me now?’
Chapter 3
A chill cut through the air early in the evening; winter was setting in. Amanda once again retreated to the study to work on the Kyleena production plan that she’d been formulating since coming home. Whenever she had time between finishing her work and returning to the house in the evening Amanda had been slowly rediscovering Kyleena.
In the past six months she’d driven every fence line and walked over every acre of land. She’d checked which dam catchments needed grading so there’d be sufficient water storage throughout the summer, which paddocks needed new fences or pasture renovation and what stock there was. She had ideas about new management strategies that would help increase income but how to get her dad to listen to her was an unanswered question.
Most nights she entered all the notes she’d made onto her computer in order to compile a farm business plan. Even if her father refused to look at it, it was something Amanda had wanted to do ever since she first returned from college. At first she’d updated it and changed it as she learned more about the farm; it had kept her skills fresh and given her work a purpose. But as time passed, her enthusiasm was eroding. She was losing hope.
Looking beyond the computer screen her eyes fell on the dead grass that used to be a lawn. Her mum would’ve been so disappointed to see the garden the way it was now. Jumping up, Amanda went into the garden and looked around. What could she do to make this place look like a home? Did she even want to? Would that make the niggling feeling of wanting to leave and not come back go away? Maybe.
The only things flowering were some red geraniums and a couple of lavender plants. Amanda kneeled down next to the flowerbed and started tugging at weeds that were knee high. After ten minutes she leaned back to survey her work. She’d only managed to clear a patch about a metre wide. Shaking her head at the futility of it all and feeling the need to escape, she jumped up, dusted off her jeans, grabbed her keys and headed over to the old Volkswagen beetle that she’d bought before going to college. She might as well go into town and check her post office box.
Smiling at the familiar VW engine noise, she remembered Hannah and Jonno laughing at her car the first day she had pulled up in the college car park. They had been standing admiring a new ute when Amanda crawled past, trying to find a park amid all the V8s covered in aerials, stickers and shiny hubs. She’d looked at Jonno – his long muscly frame and blond hair – and thought he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen. Finding a space, she parked and climbed out, smiling shyly at them.
Jonno had wolf-whistled and started walking over, with Hannah following behind. Amanda, thinking he was whistling at her, blushed when she realised he was intent on her car instead.
‘Hey, hey, we’ve got a seventies babe here, Han,’ Jonno had said, running his hand over the roof.
Amanda had taken a deep breath and stood up with fire in her eyes. ‘Got a problem with that?’ she asked, eyeing Jonno’s tall frame, dark eyes and handsome tanned face.
‘Nah, mate, excellent car. Add a few peace signs and it’ll be perfect. Love the colour. Purple. Did you paint it yourself?’ He grinned at her. Behind him, Hannah rolled her eyes, while making circles with her fingers to indicate Jonno was a bit barmy.
‘Uh-huh,’ Amanda said. ‘And which classy ride might yours be?’
‘Ah, well, if you want to see a ute that will win all the beaut ute comps around Western Australia, madam, come this way,’ he said, sweeping his arm towards the shiny black Holden ute they’d been admiring earlier. The tailgate and back window were covered in stickers and the bullbar was spray-painted a bright pink.
Amanda raised her eyebrows when she saw it – to think he had the balls to bag her car!
‘Is this thing alive?’ she grinned, gesturing at the bullbar. Hannah’s smothered laugh followed her as Amanda made a big deal of approaching with caution, musing,‘Mm, a couple of fluorescent green stripes here and a bright pink flower on the bonnet, in keeping with that bullbar . . .’ She straightened up and looked Jonno in the eye.‘What do you think?’
Hannah and Jonno had both laughed before Jonno leaned towards Amanda and whispered conspiratorially, ‘You know what’s worse? I have to share it with her,’ jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Hannah. ‘She’s the reason I have a pink bullbar on my ute.’
‘Yeah,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s a bastard having to share with your brother, hey?’
‘We’re twins actually,’ Hannah said, and stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Hannah Mardey and this is Jonno.’
From that first handshake with Jonno, Amanda’s insides had curled with desire; she’d wanted to grab him and hang on. But she and Hannah had quickly become best friends and soon after Amanda had decided she couldn’t make a play for her closest friend’s twin brother. She couldn’t stuff up a great relationship. She was also at college to learn and make the most of her opportunity. That didn’t involve having a distraction – no matter how much she desired him.
Amanda sighed as she slowed on the outskirts of Esperance. She should phone Hannah and have a debrief while she was out. That would cheer her up.
Brian opened another beer and watched the tail-lights of Amanda’s car until she hit the end of the drive and flicked her blinker on. He knew he was being harsh towards her, refusing to listen to her thoughts and ideas, but Helena’s death had robbed him of his interest in life. He didn’t want to hear any of Amanda’s plans. He didn’t want to farm. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to live.
He covered his face with his hands as that awful day replayed itself in his mind, yet again . . .
Brian and Helena had left Kyleena early the morning of Amanda’s graduation, Helena filling a thermos with coffee and making sandwiches for the seven-hour journey. Most of the trip had been spent discussing how they were going to save Kyleena from bankruptcy. Helena had been saying she didn’t think they could afford Amanda’s wages when Brian had suddenly felt so tired and weighed down that he didn’t think he could drive anymore.
He’d gently covered his wife’s mouth with his hand to silence her. Her eyes had been startled at first but he watched as mischief flickered through them and she licked his hand. He’d grinned, thinking how lucky he was to have such a wife and regretfully took his hand away. He’d asked for a cup of coffee from the thermos and she’d undone her seatbelt to reach into the back. He’d watched the curve of her behind as she’d leaned over the back seat and then reached up to smack her bum. He couldn’t remember anything more. Until he had woken up in hospital. Until the doctor had told him Helena was dead.
Brian held his clenched fist to his mouth. If only he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. If only Amanda had listened to him and not gone to college, they’d never have been on the road that day. If only . . .
Brian went to his filing cabinet and pulled out the mail that had been accumulating there for the last three months. He flicked through it, leaving the myriad bills and letters from the bank unopened. He’d had six letters in the past three months. Then there were the phone messages that the bank manager, Malcolm Mackay, had been leaving. Brian no longer answered the phone, letting all calls go through to the answering machine. And when it was something he couldn’t do anything about, he just deleted the message. He knew he couldn’t go on like this for much longer; the question was how to find the energy to make a decision. With Helena by his side, he could’ve worked out a plan, but now he just didn’t care anymore.
Heaving himself up from the desk, he moved over to the photo on the wall. His mother and father smiled at him and Brian wondered, not for the first time, what they would make of his life now. No wife, nearly bankrupt, with a daughter he had to keep at arm’s length because she kept pushing him, not knowing when to stop.
He knew that Amanda was champing at the bit to take over the farm, but it wasn’t that simple. He was of a generation that had had it instilled that it was the son who managed the farm. He had just about worked through all those feelings, with Helena’s help, when she was killed. Resentment and anger had brought them back. And then there was the fact that she thought she knew everything because she’d had three years of book learning! But where was the practical experience she needed? You couldn’t run a farm without that. Six thousand acres equated to a lot of sheep, cattle and cropping and all of that needed understanding to keep things running well. Even though he loved his daughter, Amanda hadn’t spent enough time at Kyleena to have gained the necessary experience. He knew Helena would have wanted him to encourage Amanda – Helena herself had had some very progressive ideas – but he just didn’t have the energy. It took all the strength he had just to get up every morning and face the day.
Rising, he gathered up the letters from the bank and hid them back in his filing cabinet.Then he locked the door of the office and went into the kitchen to see what Amanda had left him for tea.
Amanda looked at the envelope in her hand. She was pleased she’d come to town. Sitting on the hill just out of Esperance, where she could get mobile reception, she’d spoken with Hannah for half an hour. They’d caught up on all the gossip of college friends, discussed the pros and cons of Hannah’s job as a grain marketer, and talked about Amanda’s arguments with her father and her plans for Kyleena. Hearing her friend’s voice had made the day seem bearable, and she’d been in a much more cheerful frame of mind when she pulled up at the post office to collect her mail.
As well as the usual assortment of farming magazines and junk mail, there was a postcard from Katie, who was now on an agricultural exchange in Ireland and a thick, creamy envelope with a gold emblem on the top left-hand corner bearing a solicitor’s name. Her name was typed in bold black ink and above it, in red were the words Private & confidential. Tearing open the envelope she began to read, her eyes widening. Then she began to cry. Her mother had bequeathed Amanda her half of Kyleena.
Chapter 4
1934
Twenty-year-old Michael Greenfield swung out of his Dodge truck and landed with a soft thump on the ground. A puff of dust rose around his ankles and he brushed away the small bush flies that clustered around his eyes.
Standing stock-still, he listened. He’d been told there was a river running through this piece of land and he would find it by listening and then following the sound. This was where he would set up camp. But he heard nothing, except unfamiliar birdcalls. He glanced around at the low scrubby bush, which was also foreign, and took a couple of tentative steps. The land was covered with trees and small scrubby bushes – he was still to learn all the names – yet it was easy to walk through and the richness of the soil was plain to see. Yes, the potential was there.
To admit he felt apprehensive would be to admit weakness, but the mixed emotions of excitement, awe and anxiety gave way to a certain trepidation; his adviser had warned him of the harshness of the environment.
As he walked through the bush, stopping once in a while to listen for the river, he kept an eye open for Y-shaped branches and a long straight one. These would hold up the canvas for his humpy.
Stumbling over a tree root, he gasped as a long, thin black snake with a yellow belly reared up, its head flattened, ready to strike. Michael froze. A new-found friend had boasted that there was at least one snake to every acre in Esperance, a fact Michael hadn’t been pleased to hear. After what seemed like hours, the snake backed down and slithered on its way. His first lesson.
As his breathing and heart rate slowed, he finally heard the trickling water. Glancing around to be certain the snake had gone, he walked towards the noise.
Time had passed quickly since Michael had come ashore after landing at the docks in Esperance. He had been met by a Mr Frank O’Connor from the Agricultural Bank, as his father had promised, and this gentleman had proved to be most obliging. Mr O’Connor had not only provided all the supplies and equipment he would need over the coming months, he had introduced him to many other settlers. If he knew why Michael had left England, he gave no indication.
Michael’s flatbed Dodge was loaded with tea, flour and sugar, all in fifty-pound bags, two axes, saws and a wedge, along with a file to sharpen them. There was a canvas for his shelter, a wagga and palliasse – Michael had realised as Mr O’Connor listed what was on the back of the truck that it wasn’t just the names of the flora and fauna he needed to l
earn, there was a whole new language.
He had been told a drover would arrive with his livestock in the coming days. The sheep, cattle, pigs and chooks would provide meat, milk and eggs, and Mr O’Connor had even thought to find him a good dog, not only for work but for company.
After a week in Esperance, learning from the other settlers and Mr O’Connor, Michael had reluctantly left the homely setting of his boarding house room, the beer house and company to start his new life in the wilderness, far from his family and the comforts to which he was accustomed. He had even begun to miss England – but no, he would not think about home. He had come to forget misdemeanours caused by others and forge a new life for himself. He would not allow himself to have regrets.
He found a forked branch and, with unpractised hands, started to saw. To build his new home and what he hoped would be his empire.
Chapter 5
Amanda crouched down under the tractor, unscrewed the oil plug and watched as the thick, black oil poured from the hole. It didn’t look like it’d been changed in years! She shook her head, knowing that her father was perfectly capable of this job, but insisted on having a mechanic do it.Well, it was obvious the mechanic hadn’t been doing his job. She tucked the spanner under her arm and wiped her oily hands on a rag, thinking about her father.
At this moment, she’d take a bet that he was in the house changing from his work clothes into a fresh set. She didn’t know where he was going this time, but he was spending more and more time off the farm. And whenever he was home, he seemed lost in thought or locked in his office.
As the last few drips fell from the oil well, she thought about how lost in grief he was, but if she was able to continue on, surely he could too.
The click of boots on gravel sounded behind her and she turned and saw him appear around the corner of the shed.
Blue Skies Page 2