‘We’ve got no choice,’ said Heath.
‘No choice my arse!’ Ben shouted. ‘I know what this is about. You just want to prove you can save somebody. That’s all that matters to you. You’re not thinking straight.’
‘That’s crap.’
‘It’s not crap!’ Ben was adamant. ‘She’s not worth the risk.’
Nina kept her eyes firmly on the bandage she was unrolling, not game to speak.
‘Look at her. We can’t risk it,’ said Heath, standing up squarely.
‘So what if she carks it? Make the world a better place,’ said Ben.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘You’re an idiot, Heath.’
‘And you’re a stubborn little –’
‘Stop it, both of you!’ shouted Nina.
There was a silence.
‘I’ll get the keys to the ute,’ said Heath.
‘No. Jesus, if you’re going to crash something, make it hers,’ said Ben. ‘Besides, we can all fit in the Rover.’
‘All?’
‘Well, I’m not staying here,’ said Ben. ‘I know more about medical stuff than you do. Nina, we’ll need some more blankets and a torch. Don’t stand there gawking, Heath. Get moving.’
Heath pursed his lips and looked at the floor. ‘Thanks, Ben. Look, I –’
‘Save it. We have to get moving if we’re going to go,’ Ben said, gruffly.
Heath placed his brother in the back seat before collapsing the wheelchair and shoving it in the boot. Heath and Nina carried Hilary out again and, with some effort, managed to position her with her head on Ben’s lap and a blanket over her. She was still disturbingly floppy, and breathed noisily.
‘Well, hello there, sweetheart. Looks like I got lucky,’ said Ben sarcastically as he leaned over to observe her face.
‘Look out!’ shouted Nina, her heart hammering. A stray bit of roof iron narrowly missed Heath’s head as he straightened up. She jumped in the passenger’s seat and slammed the door.
‘All good.’ He climbed in and turned the key. But the engine coughed and died. Again he turned the key. The engine coughed and died again.
‘Oh, god, please, please, please,’ murmured Nina desperately. Beside her, she saw Heath’s face harden.
At the next try, the car lurched forward into what had become terrifying blackness. Nina gasped. The headlights made short tunnels in the dusty air.
Heath drove silently – his whole being concentrated on finding the road. Nina held her breath.
‘It’s okay, Neens,’ Ben said. ‘Heath knows this road like the back of his hand.’
And he did seem to miraculously avoid every object that whirled into their path. A couple of times he braked for fleeing roos, and once, an emu. They crawled along, buffeted by the wind, focusing all their energy on the need to stay on the road. Visibility shrank to a couple of metres.
‘How’s she doing?’ said Heath eventually.
‘The same,’ said Ben. ‘No worse.’ He held Hilary’s wrist in his fingertips, monitoring her pulse, and gave a little smile when he saw Nina looking.
Nina glanced at the dashboard. It was still only three o’clock, but it felt like three in the morning. Their whole world had narrowed to a tunnel of brown, a safe track through a nightmare. She was too tired even for tears. We’ll be on this road forever, she thought.
Finally they saw the Welcome to Wandalla sign. Five o’clock. It had taken them almost three hours to get into town.
As they entered the outskirts, the wind dropped at last. But they found a ghost town. Every surface was coated with orange dust, trees lying across fences, powerlines on the road. The only other vehicle they saw was an SES Land Cruiser carrying people in orange jump-suits and helmets. Nina recognised Hamish the funeral director driving, with Terence beside him. Heath lifted two fingers off the steering wheel, and Hamish returned the salute, ironically, Nina thought. Crunching on broken glass, they picked their way through the debris to the one set of traffic lights, now blinking orange.
‘No power,’ said Heath.
‘The hospital has a generator,’ said Ben.
Sure enough, the Casualty sign was illuminated. But under the sign, half-a-dozen cars were parked at random angles. Clearly, theirs was not the only emergency.
Nina and Heath hurried inside.
Within half an hour Hilary had been marked out as a priority by the overworked nurse and was receiving a blood transfusion. She would be airlifted to Dubbo for surgery as soon as the storm passed.
Heath tried to contact Deborah on the public phone. The waiting room was full. Nina flopped down on the back verandah by Ben’s chair, not caring about the coating of dust on everything. The ultra-cheap instant coffee in plastic cups tasted strangely delicious, she thought.
‘They’re on their way,’ said Heath, shutting the sliding door behind him. ‘They spent the storm in the cop shop. Barry Kemp tried to arrest Matty or something. Geez.’ He sat next to Nina. As they waited, they heard a bird chirp down by the river. And a chirp in answer. The storm was over.
‘Listen, ah … I shouldn’t have said that back there,’ Ben murmured to Heath.
Nina had not heard that chastened tone from him before. She wanted to give them privacy, but she was too tired to stand. She looked away towards the river.
Heath was silent.
‘I shouldn’t have said that about why you … the rescuing thing. That was shitty,’ said Ben.
‘Don’t worry about it, mate,’ said Heath, as if he didn’t want to talk about it.
‘No really. I … didn’t want it to happen again,’ said Ben, with an effort. ‘I mean, to you,’ he mumbled.
‘Oh,’ said Heath. There was a pause. ‘You were right, though.’ His voice was sombre.
‘Whatever. Anyway, you did the right thing,’ Ben said. He sipped his coffee.
Heath gave a brief nod, but his head was still down.
Nina took his hand and squeezed. After a moment, he squeezed back. She raised his dirty, hardened hand to her lips and kissed the palm softly. The three of them watched the sun sink, lighting the dusty sky in brilliant red, until it was time to go.
CHAPTER 23
The maroon stripe on the floor of the shiny hospital corridor had become familiar to Deborah over the past few days, guiding her through the maze of Dubbo Base Hospital. From her mother’s private room to the cafeteria, to the gift shop and out to the well-tended hospital grounds, her feet had followed the marker dutifully.
She smiled to herself. Matty had looked so awkward at Paramour yesterday morning when he’d come in for breakfast and found Dad sitting there.
‘Are you a bacon and eggs or a muesli bloke?’ Dad had asked.
‘A Vegemite toast man, Mr Flint.’
‘Righto. Call me Phillip,’ Dad had said, turning back to his paper. And that was it. If only Hilary could accept Matty the same way. But Deborah knew her mother too well to hope for that.
Deborah and her dad had gone to Paramour overnight to pick up supplies, and then taken the long drive back to Dubbo again. On the way they’d talked and talked – more than ever before, it seemed. Dad had promised his full support to her and Matty.
It was almost a physical pain to be separated from Matty, but in a couple of days, surely, they’d all be home again. In the meantime, Phillip trusted Matty to look after everything at Paramour, as if he was part of the family already.
Deborah stepped off the maroon stripe onto the expanse of creamy black-flecked lino tiles. Toeing the line wasn’t for her any longer.
Closing Hilary’s door gently behind her, she found Phillip nodding in his chair and Hilary staring at the ceiling as usual.
‘Dad.’ Deborah touched his shoulder and offered him a cup of tea.
‘Wha–?’ He jerked upright, his grey hair falling away from the bald patch that he spent so much time covering up. ‘Oh, thanks, love.’
‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want, Mum?’
Hilary
turned her face away. It was pale without make-up, the bruise on her cheek a delicate shade of yellow and blue.
‘Did you see the lovely carnations the Bannisters sent?’
Silence. Deborah and her father exchanged a look. Hilary’s bruised body was healing fast enough to satisfy the doctor, but the same could not be said for her spirits.
Deborah had never seen her mother look so vulnerable. When she’d seen her lying in hospital the night of the storm, it had been a shock. Deborah had thought she was dead, at first. Even now, Hilary hadn’t come back to herself, somehow. Her mother had always been driven hard by her ambition and needs, but Hilary’s vision for a new pastoral dynasty had blown away with the dust storm, scattered out across the plains she had longed to call her own. Deborah worried that the mother she knew might never return. If only she could find the words to make everything right again.
The still figure curled in the neat bed was so light, barely there. Deborah leaned forward, took her mother’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Hilary turned her head. Her thin, dry lips parted and she looked at her daughter puzzled, almost as if she didn’t recognise her.
‘Mum, how are you feeling? You can’t lie around in bed all day, you know. The cotton’s ready. Dad’s got that new contractor to come and look at the harvester. We need you back on deck to tell those boys what to do. We can’t do it without you, Mum.’
‘Leave her be, Deborah. She needs time,’ said Phillip. ‘You take all the time you need, Hilary. We’ll be waiting for you, boss. It’s been a bit too quiet without you.’
Hilary sketched a smile at him.
‘Hello? You in there, Hilary?’ Kathryn Blackett peeped around the door. She carried a bunch of pink roses. ‘Did you get my message, that we’d come this afternoon?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Hilary struggled further up the pillow, wincing. She mouthed at Deborah to get her handbag out of the drawer. Deborah fished out the gold upholstered bag, and found a lipstick and a diamante-encrusted compact, thinking how funny it was she knew what Hilary wanted without being told.
Kathryn laid the roses on the meal tray.
‘You and Deborah must need a break,’ said Mac to Phillip. ‘Why don’t you two go down to the pub and get yourselves some lunch and we’ll keep Hilary company for a bit.’
‘Thanks, Mac,’ said Phillip, looking to Hilary, who nodded at him over her compact.
Deborah felt a touch on her hand.
‘Could you show me where the Ladies is?’ said Kathryn.
Out in the corridor, Kathryn said confidentially, ‘How’s she getting along? Cerebral contusions, I believe.’
‘Well, it seems there’s no lasting brain damage. The surgery to siphon off the fluid went well. It’s so good to have her out of intensive care. Thank god Heath and the others got her to hospital when they did.’
‘Yes. We also heard she might have had some kind of breakdown?’
‘I think she’s just embarrassed. Ashamed,’ said Deborah. ‘She doesn’t want to see or talk to anyone. They’re thinking about putting her on antidepressants, but she won’t discuss it.’
‘Did you tell her Nina decided not to press charges over the bore?’
‘Yeah. She doesn’t seem to care, though. Is there some special reason you came?’ Deborah asked, studying Kathryn. The older woman seemed flustered, distracted, not herself.
‘We just want to spend some time alone with her.’ Kathryn kissed Deborah on the cheek. ‘We’ll see you in an hour or so.’
‘She gets tired easily,’ Deborah said, suddenly reluctant to go. She leaned around the door to glance at Hilary, who was frowning into her compact and fussing with her fringe.
‘See you soon, Mum,’ said Deborah.
No reply.
Phillip stood up and kissed Hilary. ‘Won’t be long, love.’ But Hilary looked over his shoulder at Kathryn and Mac. It was the most engaged she’d been all this time. At last, Deborah thought. And the Dubbo pub’s schnitzels were the best.
When they returned to Hilary’s room, refreshed by their counter lunch, Deborah and Phillip found her alone. Hilary was out of bed and fully dressed for the first time, with her face made up and her hair combed. Her cheeks had colour.
That’s a good sign, thought Deborah, but soon noticed Hilary was tense, distracted, like she’d drunk too much coffee. Hilary jabbed Kathryn’s roses into a vase. Then she tipped them out and started all over again, oblivious to the petals set flying by such rough treatment.
‘What is it, Hilary?’ asked Phillip, taking a step towards her and putting a hand on her arm.
Hilary shrugged him off. ‘Nothing at all,’ she said. ‘I’m fine, but I need to be alone.’ She jabbed the roses one by one into the vase, her lips pursed.
Deborah looked at Phillip. His eyes were on Hilary.
‘Shit!’ Hilary sucked one finger, spiked by a thorn.
‘Careful, Mum. Have Kathryn and Mac upset you in some way?’ she asked. Surely not?
‘No, not at all,’ said Hilary crisply. ‘I need some time alone now, so I’d be grateful if you’d both give me some space.’ She turned and fixed them with an expectant glare. Deborah noticed how Hilary’s chest rose and fell with her breathing. She’d never known her mother to ask for ‘time alone’.
‘Are you sure?’ Deborah asked. Kathryn and Mac had always supported Hilary. What had happened? It was good to see Mum up and about, but she was so agitated.
‘Off with you,’ Hilary said loudly. ‘I need to think things through. To rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘All right, love, till tomorrow.’ Phillip put his arm around her to kiss her.
Hilary dropped the rose and gave Phillip a hard body hug.
Phillip stepped back, astonished.
‘What is it, love?’ he said, as if they were alone in their bedroom. Hilary shook her head, but her hand went to her mouth.
‘Mum, you’re worrying me,’ said Deborah, feeling tears start.
Hilary took two quick steps, grasped Deborah’s face and kissed her forehead.
‘Off you go,’ Hilary whispered harshly.
Deborah saw her mother’s eyes were glassy with tears. ‘Mum, is everything really all right?’
‘Come back in the morning.’ Hilary turned away and shook the roses out of the vase once more.
Deborah looked back as they left the room, but Hilary stood grasping the empty vase to her belly, in her own world again.
Nina put the end of the paintbrush between her teeth and stepped back from the canvas. Heath had left at dawn to return to Kurrabar and see to the cattle. She had pretended to be asleep as he had moved around the room, trying and failing to keep his big feet silent.
Before leaving he had hovered by the bed and whispered almost inaudibly, ‘My god, you are beautiful,’ in a heartbreakingly gentle voice. She smiled at the thought. He rarely showed this tender side directly, and the sex was anything but tentative. She loved the feeling of those rough, hot hands gripping her body, the way his fingers seemed to know instinctively how to move in order to melt her into a hopeless, shapeless mass of desire.
She shook her head and focused on the painting; the figure faced the viewer now, the beginnings of an enigmatic smile on his face. But what was he thinking? She mixed a little more white into the blob of paint on her palette.
It was good to take a break from spreadsheets and business plans for a while. Over the past few weeks she’d talked endlessly with the bank, the chamber of commerce and the local tourist authority about the kinds of business that were possible out here.
Two weeks ago, she’d visited Mac and Kathryn’s granddaughter on her artists’ retreat outside Walgett and had come back full of ideas. Although Jane Blackett and her girlfriend made a couple of wry remarks about the business’s rocky finances, they seemed energised and excited. Before Nina left she had roughed out a joint marketing plan with their help.
The Springs already had a better set-up than Jane Blackett’s property, and she could see
in her mind’s eye exactly how it would look in five years. Once the water supply was sorted, the homestead could be the office and communal kitchen, the shearers’ quarters would become guest accommodation and the old machine sheds and stables would house a gallery and workshop. And with all her art-school contacts, it wouldn’t be difficult to set up the first couple of events. After that, word of mouth would make or break the enterprise.
And she could run cattle too. Heath and Ben had given her a crash course in holistic property management – how to make a marginal property sustainable and still keep time for her painting. She had already let the top paddock out for agistment, which was starting to create some desperately needed income. In the second stage, she would build up her own stock.
The shrill ring of her landline startled Nina. She still wasn’t used to it. ‘Hello.’
‘Nina?’
‘Hey, Deborah.’
‘Nina. Can you come over?’ Deborah sounded breathless.
‘Now?’
‘Yes. I mean, if you’re not busy.’
‘Is something wrong? Is it Hilary?’
‘Absolutely nothing is wrong. Nothing!’
‘You haven’t been drinking espressos again, have you?’ she joked. ‘You know what happened last time.’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. Go on, say you’ll come.’
Nina suppressed a sigh. ‘Sure.’
Deborah gave an excited shriek. ‘Excellent. Bring Heath too. See ya!’ And hung up.
Oh well. She’d swing by Kurrabar on the way. Maybe Heath could be distracted. She dropped her paintbrush into a jar, smiling to herself.
Parking beside Hilary’s heritage roses, Nina asked. ‘Is that Mac and Kathryn’s Land Rover?’
‘Yep,’ said Heath, stretching his shoulders.
Was that a sigh? wondered Nina. How must he feel coming to Paramour now, not as the son-in-law elect, but as the interloper’s partner?
She looked up at the windows, reflective as mirrors in the late morning sun. Hilary must have asked Deborah to invite her, otherwise Deborah would have come to The Springs. What was Hilary up to? There was no way she would be offering compensation for the business with the bore. So, what could it be?
The Painted Sky Page 33