After a few minutes, she moved further into the scrub, shifting tiny branches out of her way as she went allowing herself to peek through the gap.
Daniel still sat in his vehicle giving the cottage his full attention. It was impossible to read his expression. Regardless of what held him there, Vivienne remained mesmerised, unable to move or close her open mouth until he gave up and drove away. One thing she knew, she’d help him any way she could. If it meant she bought out the entire market stall—whatever it sold-then she would—she’d attend each event and contribute and donate and do the right thing. For whom, she no longer knew.
Her legs gave way to cramps and she fell back onto the grass and gave in to belly laughs at her girl-like behaviour. She’d truly gone nuts since being in the country.
Chapter Ten
“It’s time for Australian trivia! Pens at the ready teams!”
“Remember, I will read out all the questions in this section and then we’ll discover who is a true-blue Aussie and count the highest score so far. Is everyone ready?”
The crowd erupted in cheers and catcalls.
“Number one. Which Australian Band has an album by the name of Odyssey number five? C’mon folks, gets your answer down.”
“Number two. How many countries are larger than Australia? Ooh, this is a tough one, need to know your geography. Any teachers in the house tonight?”
“Number three. Who is on the current hundred dollar note? If you’ve got one in your wallet to check, you’d better donate it to this real good cause pretty quick!”
“Number four. Australia has the largest sand island, what is its name? An easy one people, it’s located off Queensland.”
“And last one for this section before we move on to music trivia, Number five. How high is Uluru? Answer in metres, okay folks. Talk amongst yourselves, get your answers down, grab a quick drink and then we’ll be straight back into it to find out how who the champions are so far!”
Daniel laughed. Ahmed the MC for the night enjoyed being in the spotlight. On any other Saturday night, he stood behind a large pot cooking hot Indian curries in his little takeaway. Like most towns people tonight, he’d shut up shop to participate in the event. That explained why lots of unfamiliar faces were dotted around too, there wasn’t much available takeaway. Daniel’s mirth didn’t last no matter what antics Ahmed performed. His smile faded and he came back to reality. If he could disappear, evaporate and slip away, he’d have done it in a flash.
“Dad? Do you know the answer to any of these questions? Will there be kids’ ones soon?”
Colton waited on his father’s answer, bored.
“Don’t worry, just draw like me,” responded Sarina not fazed by the fuss and noise around her. She had her paper, felt pens and pencils scattered on top of her colouring book. Like an angel, she offered up a broad smile to her brother.
When Colton became engaged in drawing a two-headed mermaid drowning in the ocean, Daniel didn’t bother to answer.
A hand landed on his thigh.
Estelle occupied the seat next to him at the round table situated right bang in the middle of the town hall. A few tables splintered off from it filling the entire space.
Despite there being ample room to accommodate eight guests, Estelle’s chair sat so close her leg touched his and now, her hand had found his leg. Daniel’s other leg jiggled; he felt like a caged animal with no escape.
He cleared his throat hoping Estelle Winthrop would get the hint. He glanced at her. Tonight, she was resplendent. Her hair pulled back tighter than usual, her bright red jacket with a full, black, pleated skirt matched with stiletto heels to give her imagined height. Bright red lipstick finished the look making her appear like a Christmas bauble, and not in a pretty, decorative manner.
“Everyone is here tonight, Daniel,” she said leaning toward him. Her overpowering perfume made his nose itch. It was her success, that’s what she meant. “The town has turned out for you. Even the visitors, so many faces I don’t recognise. The couple renting my cottage, well, I told them they had to come because it would be the event of the year!” Her trembles of excitement vibrated through him as she shook in her seat. Daniel rolled his eyes.
“What do you think of the decorations?” she enquired, patting his knee. Her eyes twinkled in his direction.
Daniel hadn’t paid them any attention. He considered the long, drab hall with its shiny pine floors and heavy steel chairs. Tonight, it shone with fairy lights affixed to the cornicing, red and white paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, streamers and balloons in matching colours too. But for a mix of blue, it would have been appropriate for a fourth of July celebration. Estelle assimilated perfectly with her corresponding costume.
As he looked around he noticed people staring at him with sad faces and some averted their eyes. Like an animal exhibit at a zoo, everyone gawked at him. Daniel didn’t know where to look. Facing people head on bought out his embarrassment at asking their charity but shame at his predicament kept his head low.
He recalled when Estelle had explained her plan. He’d stomped down his foot and said there was no chance in hell he’d be participating in any event where he had to ask his friends, locals or anyone else to donate to save his land.
At the time, he’d wanted to rant and rave and jump up and down and scream and shout. But after his one stomp he went quiet, raging inside. He’d told her straight out she couldn’t do it.
But something about her quiet demeanour at the time unsettled him. A prickle of dread crept up his spine. Then it dawned.
“You’ve already done it, haven’t you?” his voice came out icy cold.
The answer had been plain on his trip to town that same day. Green flyer, one after the other, worked its way into his vision. Out of sight of anyone, he’d pulled down those in his close vicinity and screwed them up so tight his knuckles had turned white. He may then have stood on them for good measure. So immature, but it helped release his pent-up anger.
Now, the night had arrived and he longed for nothing more than to be in his barn with classical music playing for his girls, and to walk through and pat heads, nuzzle necks and be where he belonged.
“Hi, mate! Best of luck.” Slaps landed on his back but the men kept moving, embarrassed for him too, he’d bet.
Acute laughter caught his attention. He scanned the room. With more than one hundred people, their voices and laughter, chairs scraping, all noise fought to be heard and pounded in his ears.
He spotted her hair first. Her head bent over, laughing at a little girl who sat beside her.
Even across the width of the room, her hazel eyes shone, a perfect match for her hair that glowed cherry-red in the fluorescent lighting of the hall.
“Bloody hell.”
Estelle turned at his words. Daniel didn’t realise he’d said them out loud.
Due to his fixated stare, Estelle followed his gaze across the room. If Daniel had been paying attention to anyone but Vivienne Green, he would have caught the widow’s eyes square and her mouth tighten.
“Who’s that?”
Daniel didn’t hear her.
“Daniel, who is that woman?”
Amused, Ned ascertained the situation and leaned across Daniel to inform her.
“That’s her, the banker. She’s the one who delivered the default notice . . .” Ned loved to cause trouble and left his words hanging to gauge her reaction.
“What?” Estelle’s sharp intonation came with blade edges. “What does she think she’s doing here? The nerve!”
Daniel paid no heed to their bickering but released his breath when Estelle lifted her hand off his leg.
Who did Vivienne sit with?
She appeared to know them. Her arm sat draped across the seat of the lady to her left but she listened to what the child said to her right. Her face glowed and her eyes sang. She must be with people she loved. The child, younger than Sarina, knocked over her glass of lemonade. Vivienne rose and headed for the drinks
table. Within seconds she returned with paper towel and serviettes to mop up the mess. As she stood sideways a slit in her white dress crept to mid-thigh. It exposed unblemished pale skin and Daniel’s breath caught.
Leaning over the child, Vivienne cleaned up the residue of soft drink on her clothes and chair. Vivienne’s dress hung low, barely containing her cleavage.
With a dry mouth, Daniel gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His body moisture disappeared. He groped for his half-full beer on the table and took a large mouthful.
After she’d cleaned up the mess, Vivienne righted her dress. Daniel drained his beer and his pants tightened making him shift in his seat.
What was she doing here?
Unease climbed up within him. More disgust at himself, really. He cringed at their last encounter and questioned why she would want to see him? She knew he’d be here—as the star attraction—if she’d wanted to avoid him, this was not the place, right? Perhaps Vivienne Green didn’t want to avoid him?
He examined the other people at her table. The Lawrences sat across from Vivienne, all beaming smiles whilst patting their own childrens’ heads. The children laughed at whatever was said.
He realised at seeing her, that he would apologise to Vivienne for his behaviour, for frightening her. He couldn’t say sorry for being angry at his predicament. His feelings were natural, weren’t they?
Damn it. He hated that his heart raced and all his senses were heightened.
He wanted to hate her.
“Ladies and gents, grab your last drinks before the next round, we’ll be testing your music knowledge!” Ahmed launched into a rendition of Land Down Under and the crowd cheered and the room became electric.
Jostling back into their seats, people milled around, catching last minute conversations. A pizza delivery arrived and slices were distributed amongst the guests. Aromas of melted cheese, cooked pineapple and Tandoori chicken filled the hall.
He was distracted by the food, but didn’t forget that Vivienne sat just metres across the room. Daniel helped his children select slices of their favourite meat lovers. He grabbed a piece himself before turning back in to what was occurring across the room.
“What the hell . . .” He craned his head around people obstructing his view and bumped into Ned on his left.
“You okay, mate?”
“Ned, what’s going on over there?”
Both men lifted in their seats straining to get a better view.
Chomping on his salami pizza, Ned muffled, “It’s Jonesy.”
Daniel paid hawk-eye attention to the activity across the room. The more he watched, his body went rigid and his face set.
Unable to decipher what was happening, Daniel shot out of his chair. Caught unawares, Ned jumped up too, two paces behind, dumping his uneaten slice of pizza on his plate.
“Daniel, what’s going on . . .”
“I’m not sure, but what is Jonesy up too?”
Ned placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Calm down. Let’s find out.” He pushed Daniel behind him as they stood in amongst the crowd that had gathered.
Daniel caught the tail end of sentences.
“... you like avocados?” Jonesy said.
“I love avocado,” Vivienne responded. Daniel heard the hesitation in her voice.
“You do. Well that’s great. I’m sure you purchase your fair share. I am an avocado farmer and owner and operator of Jones Avocado Farm. What do you say to this?”
Hugh Jones thrust a sheaf of paper in her face and let it flutter out of his grip. Vivienne grappled to hold it before it floated to the ground.
As she read it, Vivienne’s face drained of colour and she immediately looked at the woman accompanying her.
“Bec, maybe you should take the kids home?” Her eyebrows rose in question.
The woman who had curly hair just like Vivienne, shook her head leaving no mistake that she wasn’t leaving. “No, Vivienne. What is it?”
Jonesy piped back in now. “What is it? What is it?” he hissed the words.
“Just like poor old Daniel here, I’ve received my warning from the bank. I’m falling behind in payments, too. Doesn’t seem like the bank cares much. Do they want us to fail, is that it, Ms Greene? Or, do they want to own Rosebrooke, take up all our land and become a conglomerate like Marchants?”
“What? No, that’s not true.” Vivienne’s eyes bulged and she shook her head, perhaps a little too vigorously. Daniel thought her response appeared believable.
“Are you happy with yourself, Ms Greene? You come here to our town and will slowly destroy it farm by farm, all on behalf of your bank. Does it feel good to make others suffer?”
Daniel couldn’t stand back anymore.
“C’mon Jonesy. This is not the time, hey. Why don’t you head home?” Daniel touched the man on the arm bhe flinched and shook Daniel’s hand away.
“Have you given up, Daniel? Are you on her side now?”
“It’s nothing like that, mate. You’re causing a scene and people are staring and tonight, we’re all just trying to have a good time.”
“A good time! They’re here to save your life, your farm. All these people are here because of her . . .” Jonesy sneered at Vivienne, spittle flying from his mouth.
She remained silent. All eyes were focused on her, people sitting on edges of seats waiting for a reaction.
Daniel moved around behind Vivienne’s chair and touched her neck alerting her to his presence and protection. She sat stunned but her round eyes locked with his.
Vivienne’s hands intertwined and fidgeted as she held them in her lap. Heat radiated from her neck and burned Daniel’s fingers.
“What’s this got to do with you, Ned?” Jonesy stepped forward, bridging the gap between the men.
Daniel hadn’t heard the words exchanged between Ned and Jonesy. This had gone on long enough. Daniel had lost his patience.
“Jonesy, this is ridiculous,” Daniel said. Jonesy didn’t like those words and moved towards Daniel, pushing Ned with his elbow en route to his target.
Ned acted first by placing a hard, flat palm to the man’s chest preventing him from moving any further.
“Aunty V, what do these men want?” The young girl sitting next to Vivienne piped up.
It was as if the child’s words cut the tension. Everyone nearby held their breaths as they turned toward Vivienne and all movement stalled. Vivienne sat rigid and appeared so pallid she might faint.
“Is that your niece?” Jonesy asked nodding his head toward Giselle.
Vivienne’s curls bounced and she used one hand to hitch up her neckline. “Yes.” She nodded.
“I have a granddaughter about that age. She loves visiting her grandpa on the farm. I don’t know what I’ll do if . . .” Jonesy broke down into sobs.
Various sets of arms surrounded him and led him away, outside into the dark night. His cries echoed back inside the hall.
Silence filled the gap of his cries.
Ahmed used this as his cue. His vociferous voice rang out over the microphone before Hugh had left the building. Ahmed encouraged everyone to have some pizza, get another drink and prepare for the scintillating end to the trivia quiz.
##
“Mr Beckett?” An arm grasped Daniel’s. “Mr Beckett. My name is Barbara Walsh, journalist with This Country on the ABC.” A woman thrust her hand out to Daniel for him to shake. She held a spiral notebook in her other hand with a pen straddled to the top. Loopy writing was scribbled across the page.
The trivia night had wound up. Soft music played while chairs were being stacked. Daniel had been making his way toward the exit; he’d had a clear shot and became annoyed to be held up again.
“Journalist?” Daniel said.
“Yes. I’m just in town for the weekend, on a personal break, but I’ve heard snippets of your story tonight and I wonder whether you’d be interested in participating in an episode on the show?”
“Of your show? Are you serio
us?”
“Yes, I am. I can have a crew here by morning. Your robotic milking sounds fascinating and modern and something I’m sure that the community at large is interested in, particularly now with the milk industry being deregulated and the fierce competition between the major retailers and the price of milk.”
Daniel stood thinking as he observed the journalist.
Crew here in the morning?
Had he heard right? First, he questioned whether it was legitimate. He couldn’t be taken for another ride. As the woman waited for him to answer, she pulled out her business card. An emblem representing the show adorned the front of the small cardboard. So, secondly, did he want to become involved? He wasn’t one to air his troubles in public, despite the antics of tonight. He’d been railroaded into that. But having the opportunity to give robotic milking an advertisement, now that was different. He could tell his story, he could explain why it is world-changing technology and is the way of the future. He’d longed to get the word out for a long time.
“Um, and it would be my tale, my version?”
“Yes. The life of Daniel Beckett and of his robots milking his cows. It will inevitably involve some personal history because that is important to telling a rounded story and letting our viewers know who you really are.”
Daniel nodded. “What would you need to do exactly?”
Barbara Walsh offered him a broad smile. She had attempted to fit into the country well—she wore a plaid long sleeve shirt with jeans and matching boots. It was only her made-up face and bright red lips with smooth coiffured hair that gave her away as an outsider.
“We would come out to your farm, interview you and film around your dairy and take shots of your cows being milked. It would take a day, two at most. Then there would be research behind the scenes to add depth to the story and put it all together. We‘re a national show and get a lot of coverage across the country. And now that you are at risk of losing your farm, this is a timely story because others are suffering just like you. Do you want to tell it?”
Something stirred within him. He knew he stood on a precipice and the risk was that he’d fall, but otherwise, what did he have to lose? Desperate times made him do things he would ordinarily not do. He just wanted to run his farm and keep his family safe and make good milk. If he had to fall, then perhaps his last call could be showing the world what he believed most passionately in—his milking process. If he couldn’t make it work, maybe, out there somewhere, would be a farmer who could make it a success, and that would be worthwhile.
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