“What a terrible waste.” Paula tossed the last of the packets into the almost full garbage bag and brushed her hands together.
“Stinking little rodents, shit and pee everywhere.” Rowena muttered. “Dan should have known better than to bother stocking up without mouse-proofing before he left.”
Paula looked at Rowena in surprise. Dan’s aunt had always appeared to be a proper, well-spoken woman. Where had that language come from? And how dare she criticise Dan? He had been so busy before the wedding, preparing for seeding and trying to make the house habitable. Where had Rowena been then?
“I suppose he ran out of time.”
“Hmph!” Rowena turned back to the pantry door and bent down to inspect it. “I could probably find something in the shed. We need something to put across the bottom of this. The walls and floor are in good condition but there’s a gap underneath the door. If we can close that off your food will be safe – as long as you keep the door shut.”
Rowena straightened and looked from the pantry to Paula who knew how the poor door felt, not measuring up to the job.
“I think I can manage that.” Paula snatched up the brush, turned back to the shelves and scrubbed harder. The scent of the pine disinfectant filled her nostrils until she could smell nothing else. She decided it had to be better than the sickening pong of mice.
Rowena returned from her search with a long rubber fitting for the bottom of the door and proceeded to attach it while Paula re-stacked the now sparkling shelves with the items that had not been contaminated. Finally the older woman was satisfied that the door would seal properly and they brought in the fresh food from the car.
Paula was dirty and tired and everything smelled of disinfectant. After dealing with the mouse-riddled pantry she had gone off the idea of food.
Rowena looked at her watch. “It’s after twelve. I’ll wash up and organise some lunch. Why don’t you go and have a shower?”
It was more of a command than a question but Paula didn’t argue. She dug out some clean clothes from the case, which lay where she’d left it in the middle of the unmade bed. She looked at the clock. Had it really only been three hours since she’d dreamily opened her eyes to the new day?
After an extensive search Paula deemed the bathroom to be mouse free. She studied the decor as she stripped off her clothes. Large black and white tiles covered the floor and smaller white tiles, crazed with age and sandwiched between greying mortar, went halfway up the wall where they met peeling white paint.
To Paula’s delight there was an old pink bath with a shower over it. The bath was big and deep and apart from a few rust stains it looked to be in good condition. They didn’t make them like this any more.
She stood in the bath and let the water pound down, washing the mouse grime from her skin. She imagined sharing the lovely deep bath with Dan. Then she remembered Rowena out in the kitchen. She would probably stay for lunch and Dan would eat and be off again. Paula wouldn’t have him to herself till whenever he came home tonight.
At least she felt refreshed and her hunger had returned as she stepped lightly back to the kitchen. Lunch with Rowena wouldn’t be so bad. She was a bit of a dragon but she was Dan’s aunt, almost his mother really. Paula wondered how her own mother would get on with Rowena. The two women were both in their mid-fifties but had only met briefly at the wedding. Rowena had flown back to the farm the next day.
Paula smiled and opened the kitchen door to reveal the table set with a cloth, plates, cutlery and a small vase of flowers but there was no sign of Rowena. The sink was clean and a chopping board and some cutlery drained alongside. The smell of disinfectant still lingered in the air.
The outside door banged followed by two thumps. Paula turned as Dan poked his head into the kitchen.
“Hello, Sweet Pea.” His smile lit up his face and Paula was ready to jump into his arms. He held his dirty brown hands up. “I’ll just wash up.”
She stood warmed in the afterglow of his presence. She loved it when he called her Sweet Pea. Normally she hated those cutesy names people called each other but Dan had called her ‘P’ instead of Paula right from the start. When they became lovers he had changed it to his ‘Sweet Pea’.
His head appeared around the door again. “Rowena was just heading off. She said to say she’d talk to you later about mouse-proofing the house. Sounds like you’ve had a busy morning.” He looked closely at her then at the table. “Are you going to daydream or get my lunch? Rowena said there was plenty in the fridge.”
Paula opened the fridge and discovered a plate of sandwiches and a small bowl of freshly cut fruit salad. Rowena had been busy while Paula had been de-mousing in the shower. Perhaps she had been hasty with her uncharitable thoughts about Dan’s aunt. The mice were being dealt with, Dan was home and they were alone. She felt refreshed and now here was lunch already prepared.
Paula hummed to herself. Married life down on the farm was wonderful.
* * *
Rowena Woodcroft brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes. The car slid sideways and she eased back on the accelerator to edge it around a large muddy puddle that had spread across the track. She knew every inch of the way along the race, a dirt track fenced on either side that ran through the property connecting the two houses. She’d lived on this piece of land all her life with the exception of a few years away at boarding school and some time at business college. Now it was her entire life.
She’d lived with her parents in the old house and stayed on there alone after they retired to a nearby seaside town. Then, when Dan’s mother, Amanda, had died, Rowena had given up her job in town and moved into the new house to care for her dear brother, Daniel, and young Dan. Now she was on her own again. She sighed. That puddle was getting worse and would be difficult to pass if they had more rain. It needed filling. She made a mental note to tell Dan. Not that he would have time to do it at present. He would be working flat out and would also have to do without Tom’s help for a few more days.
Trust young Tom to injure himself at this critical time of the year. Blasted football. Rowena loved the sport but injuries meant time and money on the land. Dan used to play too but had stopped after a knee reconstruction had kept him from farm work half of the winter four years back. That’s when they’d first employed Tom.
He had been just sixteen and most unhappy at school. His parents were decent people who barely scratched a living doing odd jobs in the district. They were pleased for Tom to get regular paid work. He’d turned out to be a hard worker with an intuitive feel for the tasks Dan gave him. He had developed good practical skills, useful on a farm, and Rowena had grown to like the lad.
With Dan lovesick over Paula, Rowena had recently come to rely on Tom more to do some of the tasks about the place she couldn’t tackle. The car bounced over a rut as she took the corner into her yard without slowing. Rowena cursed as she heard her shopping spill from one of those dratted plastic bags in the back seat. She’d left in such a hurry her sturdy hessian carry bags were at home on the bench. She longed for the old days when you brought your shopping home in boxes and brown paper bags supplied by the shop. Plastic shopping bags were the bane of modern life.
She had planned to be home much earlier. By the time she unpacked the shopping and grabbed a bite to eat she’d be late for the Children’s Hospital Auxiliary meeting. She hated lateness in others and was always on time herself. If she hadn’t stopped to help Paula clean up the kitchen she’d have had plenty of time. It really was too bad of Dan to take his new bride to live in that old house before he’d had a chance to make it liveable. Paula was a city girl and used to all the comforts and excitement of life in Sydney.
Rowena frowned and flicked at the wayward piece of hair again. This wedding had all happened far too quickly. Dan had hardly been out with a woman in more than a year and suddenly he’d come home from a holiday in Sydney saying he’d found the girl he wanted to marry.
Rowena sighed again as she pulled the car in under
the carport. She hoped it was not going to be history repeating itself. Paula was a wispy little thing. Certainly pretty, her straight fair hair bounced to a stop just under her chin and her hazel eyes sparkled. Rowena could see why Dan had been attracted, but she had a nervous quality that was a concern.
Rowena didn’t think she had what it took to be a farmer’s wife. Then there were a few loose ends Dan really should have sorted out before he committed to another relationship. But he had made his decision without consulting Rowena. She just prayed it wouldn’t cause him grief. Heaven knew they’d had enough of that in this family.
The two-way radio crackled and she paused to listen as a male voice spluttered into the car. It wasn’t Dan or a close neighbour so she tuned out and opened the car door. Look at the time, nearly one o’clock. She’d have to rush or she’d be very late for the meeting.
* * *
Paula turned on the light in the bedroom to hang the last of her clothes in the wardrobe. It had been late afternoon before she’d made it back to the bedroom to tidy up and now the day was grey and the air chilly. She paused. Had she heard a vehicle? She listened but all was quiet. A world without constant background sound would take some getting used to. She closed the wardrobe door and shoved her case under the bed, keeping a cautious eye out for mice.
She stopped again. There was definitely a vehicle nearby. This time she hadn’t imagined the sound. It was probably Rowena returning to show Paula how to mouse-proof the house. She said she’d call back after she’d been to her meeting.
Paula left the bedroom and crossed to the lounge, casting a quick eye over the sparse furnishings. Rowena was so officious. Paula wanted to make sure everything was in its place before Dan’s aunt returned.
She pushed open the door into the kitchen.
“Aggghh!” She clutched at her chest. There was an old man standing in her kitchen.
He turned towards her. “What did you do that for?” he squawked in an offended voice. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Paula’s heart rate slowed slightly and she looked at the old man. He was thin and frail and looked to be at least ninety. He was dressed in brown pinstriped trousers held up by suspenders over a white shirt. Somehow she didn’t think he was likely to be a deranged murderer.
The door from the passage flew open and Rowena walked in with an armload of gear.
Doesn’t anybody knock in the country? Paula thought.
“Hello, Uncle Gerald. Have you come to meet Paula?” Rowena put her bags on the kitchen table.
“What?”
“Have you met Paula?” Rowena repeated in a louder voice.
“Is that her name? Orla? She screamed at me. Gave me quite a start.”
He glared at Paula and she glared back. He was the one standing uninvited in her house.
“Paula.” Rowena shouted and turned to Paula. “This is Uncle Gerald. Perhaps you could put the kettle on.” She began to unpack her supplies.
Paula switched on the kettle, wishing she had her coffee machine and wondering if Dan had any more weird relatives tucked away.
Uncle Gerald settled himself at the table and stared out the window. “Chance of stormy weather.”
“Do you think?” Rowena cast a gaze towards the glass, shook her head and stepped back to survey the kitchen table. It was partly covered with steel wool, bits of wood, gap filler, mouse traps and bacon.
Paula picked up the bacon.
“Bacon rind is one of the best things I know for catching mice.” Rowena selected one of the boxes of mouse traps and began to open it. “Mice love it and it’s difficult to get off the trap without setting it off.”
“Peanut paste.”
Both women looked at Uncle Gerald.
“Peanut paste is all I use. Gets the little buggers every time.”
Paula shuddered and dropped the bacon packet back onto the table. She made a cup of tea for Uncle Gerald. After a bit of shouting she worked out he had a lot of sugar and no milk in his tea.
Rowena declined Paula’s offer of a cup. “We’d better get this done. I’ve got other jobs I should be doing.”
Paula felt every bit the nuisance she so obviously was and fell into step behind Rowena. They went over every room in the main part of the house closely followed by Uncle Gerald, who made all kinds of comments that had nothing to do with the job in hand.
Paula was amazed at the tiny gaps Rowena pointed out.
“Surely that’s too small a hole for a mouse.” Paula bent closer as Rowena used steel wool to plug a spot at the end of a piece of skirting that was the size of her little finger.
“Mice can squeeze through the smallest space. We’ll have to plug up everything we can find.” Rowena continued to give instructions and Paula followed them. She was alarmed to think how easily the little rodents could infiltrate her home. In the case of keeping out mice she had to concede that the country woman knew her stuff.
At least Paula now knew every inch of her new home and she was already conjuring up decorating ideas. There were three bedrooms, a laundry and bathroom down one side of a long passage and the large lounge and kitchen/dining down the other. The passage was divided from the back rooms of the house by a large wooden swing door. Paula loved the way it gave a soft groan as it opened then swung back into place with a gentle whoosh behind her. It felt solid beneath her fingers and she hoped one day to strip the white paint from it to reveal the wood underneath, which she was sure would gleam with a varnish.
A verandah ran from the front door around the lounge and met the kitchen door on the other side. The verandah across the back of the house was enclosed. It housed the toilet at one end and a sleep-out at the other.
“You won’t be able to keep the mice out of here as easily.” Rowena peered at the offending back room. “But if you don’t keep anything out here to attract them you should be all right.”
Paula wasn’t listening. She had been distracted by a collection of old furniture stacked in a corner of the sleep-out. There were a few possibilities there for her to explore. Uncle Gerald walked past and peered closely at the bric-a-brac.
“Whose things are these?” Paula asked.
Rowena glanced through the doorway. “Just cast-offs that no one wants. Dan should have cleared it out.”
“Can I use them?” Paula watched Uncle Gerald drag out an old wicker chair.
“I can’t imagine there’d be anything the slightest bit useful there, but help yourself.” Rowena dismissed the room and then Paula. “Now I really must get home. I’ve been out all day, what with one thing and another. I’ll leave you to get Dan’s evening meal.” She turned to the old man who was inspecting the chair closely. “Come on, Uncle Gerald, time you went home too.”
He left the furniture and followed Rowena, pausing in front of Paula to hand her his empty cup. “Thanks, Orla.”
“Hurry along, Uncle Gerald,” Rowena commanded from outside.
Paula watched the old man shuffle towards the back door where he turned and gave her a wink before he set off along the cement path towards the old green car pulled up by the gate. Rowena was already crossing to her own car.
Paula said a feeble goodbye then stood to attention and saluted Rowena’s departing back. She stifled a giggle. It was getting dark, perhaps it was time to investigate what she could whip up for dinner.
* * *
The pasta carbonara was gluggy and Paula was restlessly flicking television channels in front of a roaring fire when she heard the sound of Dan’s ute. Her first day on the farm had been a long one and she was desperate to talk to Dan and feel his arms around her.
Living here was a total change from her previous life but she was excited by her new world and determined to embrace it. Even though she was twenty-eight, Paula was the baby and had always felt smothered and stifled by her family. She had met Dan at a time when her life was crowding in on her. Work had become a string of temp jobs and she hadn’t been interested in relationships after the bre
akup with Marco. Dan had been a tall, rugged breath of fresh air and so different from the manipulative, smooth Marco.
She shook her head, physically trying to erase the memories of the past, and slipped into her jacket. The cold night air chilled her face as she walked across the yard towards the big shed. She could see Dan silhouetted by the interior lights of his ute parked just outside the huge doors. She hugged the jacket tightly to her body and wished she’d put on some trackpants as well.
She had nearly reached him when movement on the ground in front of the ute stopped her. A mass of little grey bodies swarmed around, caught in the glare of the headlights.
She clamped both hands over her mouth to strangle the scream of revulsion that erupted as a groan around her fingers. For a moment she stood, mesmerised by the sight. Then reality forced her to move. She was only wearing a skirt and slip-on shoes. The thought of the repulsive little creatures running up her bare legs propelled her into the ute beside Dan.
He looked up from the notebook he was writing in. “Hello, Sweet Pea. Where did you spring from?”
She flung her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder, too breathless to speak. His clothes smelled earthy and there was another oily type of odour.
“Well this is a nice homecoming.” He slipped his hands under her jacket. “We should have got married years ago.”
“Mice,” she mumbled into his shoulder.
He sat back a little and studied her in the dim light of the interior. “That wasn’t the response I expected.”
“They’re everywhere, in the headlights, I could see them.” She shuddered again. He put one arm around her and she nestled into his shoulder.
“They are certainly reaching nuisance proportions. Not a good sign for the season.”
“Can’t you get rid of them?”
“If only it was that easy.” He hugged her again and smiled that wonderful smile that made her heart flutter. “Bit of a rough start to farm life for you, Sweet Pea.”
A Chance of Stormy Weather Page 2