Unexpected Delivery
Page 18
He’d had his one great love.
Ignoring his moist cheeks, Daniel kicked the tyre good and hard this time and kept going until his feet ached despite his sturdy boots. Crouching to his knees in despair, he remained there until the sun dipped behind the hills and the air grew cool.
***
A shroud of mysterious grey fog hung low over the mountains, clinging to the edges of the foothills and Rosebrooke disappeared.
The mist trapped in the wintry air, time-travelling the town back into the cooler weather. Invisible, the sun rested high in the sky providing no warmth and radiating no joy.
Townsfolk huddled into warm cafes and tucked their hands into their jumpers pulled from the back of cupboards where they were to be stored for the summer.
Farm animals bunched together providing vital body heat to each other while sheep bleated and cows bellowed and rabbits remained underground.
One man, not disturbed by the depressed mood, or oblivious to it, blustered through the township, bulldozing people out of his way and causing a scene wherever he chanced.
“What do you mean you don’t have any milk? Are you a café? Do you not sell coffee?” His roars of frustration could be heard in each corner reach of the main business precinct.
“I just want a coffee!” Zac Gardiner shrieked like a toddler having a tantrum. He could not be placated by smashed avo on toast and freshly squeezed juice from a local orchard; it was the liquid gold he sought. Slamming the door to the Rainforest Café, he trundled downtown with a scowling face and breath coming out in smoky gasps. Milk was low and the unexpected brutal turn of weather had frozen the cow’s udders—or so they told him—and the day’s delivery had been delayed.
It could also be the case that the replacement bank employee had become the most hated man in Rosebrooke and all thought it would be justice served to evoke payback on the face of McGuires Metropolitan Bank. Or just make Zac Gardiner as miserable as possible. That would be enough.
Having visited at least a quarter of the residents, Zac had warned them to avoid default if they weren’t yet behind in payments—but looked like the very people that would be next on his hit list for non-payment—and provoking and agitating the remainder for interest-free credit cards, managed terms deposits—who had money for that anyway, they told him—and any other such services offered by his loyal banking institution.
People lowered their chins or changed direction when they saw the bank man approaching. Lucky for him because most wanted to throw their litter in his face, push him to the ground and tread on him but, choosing avoidance kept it all civil.
Like a storm brewing, Zac traversed the sidewalk of Rosebrooke until a kindly spirit took pity on him—old Mr Appleby in the town hall. He’d brewed himself a steaming Moccona, the kettle still sat tepid. A recluse who only ventured to town for his weekly bridge club session on a Thursday, he had opened the broad, tall timber doors to the hall and had set out two or three chairs and tables whilst his coffee cooled, when Mr Gardiner arrived.
Ignorant to Zac’s reputation, he acquiesced when the short man in well-cut slacks, collared business shirt and casual jacket waltzed in declaring, “Do I smell coffee?”
Admittedly Mr Appleby expressed unashamed happiness as he incorrectly assumed he welcomed a new member to the group. Numbers had dwindled over the years: sickness, death and retirement villages that ran their own societies.
So, with unbridled enthusiasm he’d poured the man a cup.
Half an hour later as Fred, Jimmy and Gerard entered the space and provided cheery greetings, a shaken Mr Appleby rose from his chair with his face pale and eyes round as saucers. Zac left his dirty mug where it lay and slapped his new mate on the back. “I’m heading off to scourge up more work for the bank, or maybe, I’ll just raise the interest rates and that’ll mean I won’t have to do more work today and instead just sit and watch the money roll in.” His cackling echoed around the hall long after he left. Mr Appleby spent several minutes searching for the gold coin donation required for the cup of coffee he’d made for the visitor.
***
Daniel stoked the fire, disgruntled at having to chop wood and replenish the pile at this time of year.
Darkness pervaded and closed in the house as if it was midnight despite all the curtains being drawn as far as they could reach. Cold air seeped under doorways and through cracks in the hardwood boards.
Labouring to carry the wood, his limbs refused to co-operate when his fingers turned frosty. Suited Daniel perfectly fine today, the weather matched his mood.
“Give it to me! It’s mine!” His eyes watered at the piercing scream.
“It is not. I had it first! I’m using it.”
And on the arguing continued, as it had been since six a.m. Patience had given way as his fuse had grown short.
“Give me the remote!”
Both children stalled. Daniel rarely yelled so when he did, it carried optimum affect.
Silently, Colton handed it over.
“Now, get ready for school. The bus’ll be here soon so get a move on.”
Little feet scuttled away leaving behind only glorious silence.
Sitting close to the fire, Daniel warmed his hands and toes. If only the heat could repair all the ills in the world, he would be just fine.
Only a few days before he’d lain in the spring sun and life had been perfect. Daniel closed his eyes as he recalled each image. The stroke of her fingers upon his, her hair tickling him as it brushed against his skin, her smile.
Indulgently, he allowed himself to imagine her exposed bare skin. For some reason, he pictured red lacy underwear, probably to match Vivienne’s radiant hair tumbling down her naked back and those aqua-green eyes peering at him.
It’d been a long time and his pants tightened at the vision. A smile drew the corner of his mouth upwards, a moment of pleasure on his lips. She leaned in close to him and murmured.
“Dad?”
“Dad!”
Breath irritated his ear.
“Dad! Wake up!”
Opening his eyes, Sarina stood before him in her school attire and with a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“See ya, Dad.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. It was so different to the one he dreamed of and with an ache he realised he would not experience again.
##
Hours later and with the house motionless and deadly quiet, Daniel stared at the dying embers of the fire as the tea in his cup had grown cold.
A warm hand touched his shoulder. Not even startled, he turned slowly after hours of sitting in one position had stiffened his body.
“Hi ya, Ned.”
“Hey, Daniel. What ya doin’?” Ned spoke in a soft tone, words iced with trepidation. The tall man stood over his friend, concern etched into his features.
“Not much, mate, just keeping warm.”
“The fog’s lifted . . .”
“Hm, has it?”
“Yeah, you should get up and about. Have you been outside today?”
Daniel shook his head. “Nah, not today, chilled to the bone I was this morning and now, the hours just seem to have crept away.” Daniel sounded relaxed and a million miles away. If he’d glanced at Ned, he would have seen the alarm spreading across his face, his expression incredulous.
“How long since you’ve been out? You know to check the girls, the feeder, the animals and stuff, and been around the farm?”
This question did make Daniel start, sit up taller. He paused before answering. “You know what, I’m not sure, must have been yesterday, or no, maybe the day before.”
“I’ve had a look at the machine in the nearest shed and it’s not working. So, we had better get out there fast and fix it otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.”
Daniel hid his shame, his loathing, his hatred of himself at this moment and hung his head low, out of sight. He’d neglected his duties and Ned had to tell him to get up. Running hands through his hair, bridging time, he did rise, gra
bbed his hat and extra coat. “Let’s get out there then, no time to waste.”
With lead in his feet and his heart laden with fractures, Daniel dreaded what he might find because of his reticence. Unusually, the cows milled around the milking shed. Looking to their udders, he saw them full and tight. They moved gingerly and made quiet mutterings like the whimpers of a hurt dog.
“Damn it!” Daniel hit his fist against the barn wall when he observed one of the four Lely Robots, idle and still, not a hum to be heard.
Rushing faster than his feet wanted to take him, he raced to the machine and crawled around it. At the touch of buttons and turn of levers, he examined the controls on the machine. Without saying a word, Ned stood behind him, cursing under his breath as Daniel pulled out this bit and that.
“Ned, hold this for me, would ya?”
Silently, the pair worked until the purr of the robot kicked in. Daniel sat back on his haunches, head bowed.
“If I had come out here every day like I always do, I would have noticed this. It was only minor, and in fact, this little bit,” he pointed to the relevant part, “occasionally sticks and just needs a little bit of attention. If I had been on guard, I could have been onto it straight away.”
“How long do you think it’s been out?”
Daniel shook his head. “Who knows, I hope less than more.”
“Is everything okay, mate?” Ned leaned over and placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.
As if he hadn’t heard, Daniel responded, “It’s a trick, isn’t it? These machines are automatic, designed to avoid the need for human intervention and can run themselves. Even the production plant is all automated and it hardly needs our input, but when there’s an issue, we still need to fix it. She didn’t like being ignored, did she?”
Ned offered a smile, not sure what was going on.
Daniel rose, watching the first cow come through onto the scales and into the machine now it operated once more. He stood as the robot provided the statistics it always did. The milking commenced and the beast contentedly chewed, its head in the feed tray provided.
“Ned.”
“Ned! Get over here.”
Daniel pointed.
“Bugger.” Ned held his head in his hands.
“This milk is no good.” Daniel cursed loud enough to cause the nearby cows to scatter.
“Okay,” Ned stated businesslike. “She needs to get rid of her milk, but we can’t process it,” placing his hand on Daniel’s shoulders again, “it’s only one cow, Daniel, it’s okay.”
“We’d best get out to check the others.” Brushing Ned’s arm away, he stormed off.
If matters were grim in the solitude of his warm kitchen, it progressed to dire before the moon arrived in the afternoon sky.
“This one has mastitis, I’d say,” Daniel said after examining the first cow.
“This one, too,” yelled Ned from ten feet.
“There’s nasal discharge here. Can you check this, Ned? Is that what you think?”
“Yep. Definitely mucus in the nose and there’s a bit in the eye there, too, can you see it, here?”
Daniel nodded, solemn.
“Fuck!” he screamed so it was heard at the top of the mountain ranges.
“We’ll need the vet, Dan. Should I head back and make arrangements for tomorrow, bit late in the day now as it’s getting dark.”
Daniel stood staring into the distance and not responding.
“Dan?” Ned prodded.
“Yep, call the vet.”
Standing as a solitary figure on the peak of the farmyard, Daniel took stock of what the afternoon had delivered. He’d have to check first thing how much milk production he’d missed with the robot out of action. God, he hoped it wasn’t days.
He’d need to get all those androids serviced, that’s for sure. They must be overdue. He’d add it to his list.
And, on top of that his cows were sick. They never fell ill! This amazing, modern system he had installed was fail proof. But, nothing was, was it? He’d allowed this to happen. He’d taken his eye off the game for such a short period of time, again, and disaster had struck. As if he hadn’t already learned his lesson. He ran through it in his head.
Reduced milk production equals less produce for sale.
Unwell animals equals further reduced milk production.
Broken robot equals no milk to manufacture.
Service fees.
Vet bills.
It was a simple equation. Less available produce meant less income and no money to pay the vet or the mechanic.
The hills crashed down upon him, crushing him and his chest constricted. If he wasn’t as healthy as a bull, he’d be certain he was being struck down by a heart attack. He clutched at his torso, rubbing, trying to ease the pain.
It didn’t help that everywhere he looked, he saw destruction: a rundown old farmhouse in need of a lick of paint, a new gate and a garden crying out for weeds to be eradicated, toys strewn across the lawn, constructions pretending to be sheds turned a rusty red through decay and needing to be pulled down and taken out of their misery, debris ranging from old leather boots, tin cans, leather saddles, and all variety of shit dotted his path from where he stood to the house and beyond.
Despair, like he hadn’t even suffered when Sarah died, bore down on him so forcibly, his breath caught and joined the ache in his chest. It felt as if the crush of all events pressed upon him and refused to be placated.
He hadn’t yet received the money that Estelle held on his behalf, but if those sums were correct, it’d save the farm, but he needed a miracle to resurrect this place. When had it all slipped from his grasp? The wind delivered echoes of raised voices allowing him to make out singular words. Brushing his hand over his brow and scrunching his eyes for the briefest of moments to obtain relief, he knew the kids were at it again.
He prayed to the heavens for relief—for the smallest of reprieves. Again, it was his fault. Not only had he neglected his job; in any other position, he would have been sacked by now. But he’d neglected the kids, too. The routine had become clear to him by now. In the month preceding the anniversary of Sarah’s death, Colton and Sarina’s behaviour always deteriorated. Conversations about their mother filled each day and their fighting escalated. They behaved in the only way their little minds and bodies knew how.
But this year, the date had crept up upon him.
He cursed. He’d been distracted by long red hair, slim legs and a killer smile. Life had not run smoothly since the day she’d trespassed on his farm to help him birth that cow.
Bitterness inflamed his mouth, making his tastebuds sour.
Daniel didn’t know who to be angry at.
Vivienne—her and her bank for causing this mess?
Sarah—for dying?
His robots for not operating as they should?
His cows for being sick?
The world in general?
In conclusion, he contemplated blaming them all.
But he knew who to blame, really.
He knew; this disaster lay at his feet alone. The business had become a shambolic mess under his leadership with his crazy modern farming testing everyone’s limits; for allowing his wife to drive a quad bike when she shouldn’t have and not being able to save her, he’d live with that always and now for being an absent and frequently distant, parent.
A lightning bolt of electricity cracked inside his chest buckling him over, his temples throbbed and light flashed inside his eyes. He needed to get moving otherwise he feared he’d be stuck here. Trudging downhill to the illuminated house where kid’s screams escaped the confines, he went back to the life he’d created. Walking blindly, his head hurting, his body aching, his mind a mess, Daniel slipped, and scraped along the moist grass whilst his hands grappled to maintain any semblance of control.
Chapter Sixteen
Vivienne stifled a yawn; she’d slept poorly every night since her return home.
Home.
Feigning interest in the document in front of her, she swung on the office chair at the reception desk of the Women’s Advisory Service. As far as volunteer nights went, quiet had prevailed.
Checking her watch, she observed it had only just clocked over to 6.30 p.m., so anything could happen yet. Most nights women in need lined up outside the Centre door, jostling for prime position in the queue to avoid missing out, or suffering a late night. But if they had to, most would wait all night, if it meant getting free and valuable advice.
Turning back to the mortgage papers in front of her, she heard muffled cries from the next office.
“Viv?”
“Hmm?” She looked up uncertainly. No one called her Viv.
“Have you seen the most recent referral list? And the shelter one?” Sue asked. Sue was an experienced family lawyer who Vivienne barely knew other than passing in the halls of the Centre.
“Yeah. I saw it out front. I’ll bring it in. Want me to help, too? Your client sounds upset.”
“That would be great, thanks,” Sue said.
Vivienne sprang into action, glad to be of assistance.
“Okay, I’ve got the lawyer’s list here, it just depends on being privately funded or aided...” Vivienne had started rabbiting on the moment she entered the small cubicle room, but the words dropped away as the client peered up at her.
One perfectly round, yellow and black bruise circled the woman’s left eye that was swollen and half closed. She tried to stare up at Vivienne through the puffiness.
Then, in response to the look of horror that Vivienne failed to conceal, the woman commenced crying again, silent heaving sobs.
Why did her face have to be so expressive?
“I’m so sorry. You poor thing . . .” Crouching to her level, Vivienne placed her hand on the lady’s leg.
As the woman kept her head bowed and cried, Sue filled Vivienne in on the events.