The house Flynn Findlay had been building for Barb in the paddock behind the main complex was still there. It had obviously survived the fire—probably because it was surrounded by nothing but grass back then. Now some trees had been planted around the edges of the lawn and there were roses winding up the faded green posts of the veranda, making the bluestone veranda and front steps look darkly inviting.
The adult in her appreciated the necessity of the changes; the child inside mourned for the loss of what she’d known and loved. Nat sighed. Life was change. She didn’t know when she’d become the person who had such a hard time with that concept. She needed to take to heart the words she’d just spoken to her daughter.
As they walked further along, she looked down the gentle slope that led from the plateau the main buildings, corrals and home paddock were situated on, towards the rest of the property which was bordered by stands of thickening bush. A smile broke out on her face as she spied a glint of tin roof and a red brick chimney through the trees. Their old cottage had survived the fires! A part of her had been holding its breath, readying itself for the slash of grief she would have felt if it had been gone, but that breath gentled, settling inside her and for the first time in ages, she could breathe.
‘What’s that?’
She looked where Tilly was pointing and couldn’t help smiling. ‘The bunkhouses.’ Set in a U-shape around the pool, they were still the same rustic pine-log buildings that had so charmed her when she’d first moved here. Something glowed inside her, so many happy memories centred around times in those bunkhouses with other kids her age who were on camp. She’d stayed in contact with many of them for a few years after her marriage but when Andrew had joined the army and they moved so much, it had become all too difficult.
She wondered what had happened to them? Barb might know, and maybe, just maybe, she’d have the courage to ask after she was here for a little while. Yes, maybe she would. ‘That’s where the kids stay who come to camp.’
‘They sleep all together?’ Tilly screwed up her nose.
Nat laughed at her daughter’s expression. ‘Sure do. There’s usually around twenty kids and horse rides and activities every day. All the girls sleep in one bunk house and the boys in the other and you eat in the restaurant there.’ She nodded towards the long wooden structure set like a kind of cap on the ‘U’. ‘There’s a pool and also a lounge area with pool and tennis tables for relaxing at the end of the day.’
‘It sounds awful.’
Her lips twitched at her daughter’s expression. ‘It’s actually a huge amount of fun. I used to love going on camp, even though I lived here. It was always so much fun sharing a room and chatting until midnight. We used to grab a torch and snacks from the kitchen and tell ghost stories.’ She laughed again. ‘We’d frighten ourselves so much, we couldn’t sleep after.’
Tilly tossed her head. ‘That sounds boring.’
‘It was anything but.’
‘Yeah, well things were different in “olden times”.’
The second age reference in as many minutes. There was nothing like a slap up the side of the head from your daughter to put a downer on your day, but Nat didn’t have a chance to respond because just then, the door of the office they were approaching opened and an Australian Shepherd and a Blue Heeler burst out of the door, racing towards them, followed by an older woman, her rainbow-coloured—rainbow!—curls cut close to her head, sturdy frame encased in faded jeans and a floral short-sleeved shirt. Nat’s smile widened. The woman’s hair might be a crazy colour but apart from that she hadn’t changed.
‘Barb!’
‘Natalia!’
Nat was engulfed in a hug full of warmth. The familiar scent of freshly baked scones surrounded her, taking her back twenty years, bringing tears of happiness.
‘Oh, look at you! You haven’t changed a bit, except to get more beautiful.’
‘I was going to say the same about you.’
Barb Findlay let go of her arms to pat her hair. ‘That’s sweet of you to say, but a terrible lie. Charlie and Farrah, sit!’ The dogs who’d been circling them sat and looked up at her, ears perked. ‘Sorry about them,’ she said to Tilly who had backed up, her bag in front of her. ‘They’re too friendly for their own good. You can pat them.’ Tilly tentatively reached a hand out and patted one then the other on the head. Another older dog, his bloodlines in no way as certain as Charlie and Farrah’s, came lumbering up, mottled black with shabby hair and floppy ears and grey all around his mouth. He nudged Tilly’s hand so she patted him as well, then licked her hand as she pulled it away, making her giggle. ‘Bos takes longer to get around, but he won’t be left out.’
‘Tilly, this is Barb Findlay, owner and general magician with food, horses and kids. Barb, this is my daughter Matilda.’
Barb held out her hand, a smile as wide as the Cheshire cat lighting up her face. ‘Aren’t you beautiful? And such gorgeous hair. Sable, like Elizabeth Aaron’s in Black Beauty. Just like your mother was at your age.’
Tilly stood and took her hand, solemnly shaking it. ‘I prefer Tilly. I’m almost nine. Mum was twelve when she first came here. And who was Elizabeth Aaron and Black Beauty?’
Barb laughed. ‘I see I have some educating to do. Well, welcome. You’re going to have a wonderful time.’
‘That’s what Mum says.’ Tilly bent to pat the dogs again, her attention centred mostly on Bos. ‘Oh, Mum, his fur is so soft. Come pat him.’
Nat obeyed. ‘What is he?’
Barb shrugged. ‘Who knows. We’re not even sure how old he is. We found him on the side of the road just after the fires and he wasn’t a puppy then.’ She patted him on the head. ‘But he’s a dear old boy.’
He licked up the side of Tilly’s face as she bent to pat him again. Nat was expecting Tilly to shriek, but she laughed and gave him a hug, his huge head and tongue lolling over her shoulder.
‘If you keep that up, he’ll be yours for life.’
Tilly looked up at Nat. ‘Can he, Mum? Can he be ours?’
‘I think he’s a farm dog, Tilly, so he’s everyone’s dog. But he can come visit.’
Charlie and Farrah edged forward, still sitting, not breaking Barb’s previous command, but they were obviously wanting more pats too. Tilly obliged but kept returning to Bos.
‘If they annoy you, tell them to go home and they’ll leave you alone.’
Tilly looked up at her while she stroked Bos’ head, the biggest smile on her face, a smile bigger than Nat had seen for ages. ‘I wish they could be mine.’
Nat rolled her eyes at Barb. ‘Great. Here we go with the “why can’t we have a dog?” refrain.’
‘You were the same when you were her age.’
‘That was too long ago. I can’t remember.’
‘Sure you can’t. Speaking of which. Why has it taken you so long to come back?’ She crossed her arms over her ample bosoms, scowling at Nat, the same scowl that had struck terror in her heart and the hearts of all the kids she’d seen come through CoalCliff in her years living here if it was ever aimed at them.
But now, rather than creating dread, it made her smile. ‘I don’t know … life got in the way. But I’m back now.’
The scowl disappeared as Barb patted her hand. ‘Well, I’m glad. And I can’t wait for you to get started on all the Instabook, Facegram and Chirping stuff. I have no idea about any of it.’
Tilly’s mouth dropped open and she stopped patting the dogs. ‘Don’t you mean Instagram, Facebook and Twitter?’
‘Do I? I don’t know. That’s why I’ve got your mother here—to sort it all out for me.’
‘Why don’t you already have all that?’
‘Well, Tilly,’ Barb said, putting her arm around Tilly’s shoulders and guiding her forward. ‘Until recently our internet and phone reception were rather spotty. But now they’ve finally put the tower in the hill above Walhalla, our internet is brilliant—or so Flynn says. He said we can’t grow the business without bec
oming more social media savvy which is why I asked your mum here. I understand she’s a whiz at that stuff.’ She squeezed Nat’s hand, understanding clear in her eyes. But before Nat had a chance to get teary, Barb said, ‘How about we get a wriggle on and I’ll show you to your home?’ She turned to Nat. ‘The cottage is yours again although I think you’ll find there’s a few changes. It’s had a bit of a spruce up since you were last here.’ She looked at Nat questioningly and Nat smiled. She knew Barb was worried about bad memories.
‘That sounds wonderful. I saw it had survived the fires and was wondering about it on our way from the car. I thought maybe someone lived there.’
‘Well, one of the hands had been living there while Flynn’s house was getting repainted, but now that’s done, he’s moved out, so it’s all yours.’
‘Oh, who was it? Mac? Is he still here?’
‘We couldn’t get rid of Mac Permien if we tried. But no. He built his own house down the road a bit for him and his son Ben—do you remember Ben? Called it Permien House if you’ll believe it.’
‘Sounds exactly like the Mac I remember.’ She cocked her head on the side. ‘So, Flynn shares his place with the hands?’
‘No. He never ended up moving into the house he built for him and Anna. He and Aaron decided they preferred to live with me and I like it that way too. I got lonely just thinking about being in that big old place he built for me by myself. Here, give me that.’ She took the bag from Nat, hefted it. ‘Goodness, what did you put in here?’
‘Tilly thought she’d pack the kitchen sink. Thankfully, we drove here rather than flew because we would have been slugged for excess luggage when we got on the plane.’
‘Mum!’
Barb chuckled quietly. ‘I remember you when you were younger. Couldn’t go anywhere without a bag choc-a-block full of stuff you were never likely to use.’
Tilly turned to stare at her mother. ‘Is that true?’
‘Probably. Barb always did have the memory of an elephant.’
Barb chuckled, the sound as smoky as a bonfire built of green kindling and smoothed her hand over Tilly’s hair. ‘That I do. And I remember what it’s like to move home and not be able to bring everything immediately with you. You needed as much as you could carry, to make it feel like home.’
Tilly blinked, her chin wobbling. ‘Yes.’
‘And we’ll find a home for all if it. There’s plenty of room in the cottage.’
The adoring looks she gave the older woman made Nat’s heart clench in her chest.
They began to walk down the hill, past the first set of cabins, the dogs following, Bos right at Tilly’s heels which seemed to delight Tilly.
‘I was wondering, Tilly, if you’d like to join our next camp. We’ve got one starting next week, so you’ve got time to explore and settle in before that. There are some local girls coming on this one, so you can meet them, maybe make friends.’
Tilly started shaking her head before Barb had even finished. ‘I don’t know how to ride.’
‘You don’t? Well, we can easily fix that.’
‘I also don’t like being around lots of people. And I kind of wanted just to explore on my own. Spend some time with Mum.’
‘I understand.’ Barb sighed. ‘It’s a pity though. I could have used your help. I need feedback on how it is for the kids to see if we can improve things. I was kind of hoping you’d be like an official tester and report back to me after the week is up. It’s been a long time since one of my own was on a camp, so I’m not sure if we’re doing all we can to make it a positive experience for everyone.’
Tilly’s shoulders lifted, her hand on Bos’ head as he walked beside her. ‘Well, if it’s to help out, I think I could do that.’
Nat’s lips twitched, but she held back the laugh of triumph. Barb was truly the master, getting success in a minute where Nat could have been trying for months to get her daughter to agree to something she’d decided she didn’t want to do.
‘Good. Then after I’ve shown you to your home and you’ve settled in, I’ll take you over to have a look at the bunkhouse. Some of the girls will be arriving on Sunday night, the rest not until Monday morning, but you can take your pick of the bunks in there now.’ She shot Nat a look. ‘I know your mum’s favourite spot was the lower bunk on the left, furthest from the door.’
‘How do you remember that?’ Nat asked, astonished.
‘Oh, I remember many things.’ She looked down into Tilly’s face, her eyes full of mischief. ‘I could tell you a story or two about your mum, Tilly.’
‘You could?’
The glint in the girl’s eye made Barb chuckle, a low rasp of sound. ‘I could. But I won’t.’ She bent over, her lips near Tilly’s ear. ‘At least, not right now.’ She leaned back, giving Tilly a wink and smiling over her head at Nat, who mugged a horrified expression.
‘So, you can choose a bunk, see where everything gets stored away and be one up on all the other girls come Monday. Sound good?’ She looked between them but didn’t wait for their assent, turning to lead them on. ‘Maureen should be pulling my last batch of scones out of the oven in about fifteen minutes. If we hurry, they’ll still be hot when we get back.’
‘That sounds wonderful, doesn’t it, Tilly?’
‘I suppose.’
Nat exchanged looks with Barb over Tilly’s head. If anyone would understand, it was Barb. She’d brought up two girls and four boys and had—as far as Nat could remember—ten grandchildren and two step-grandchildren. She’d taken the burden of caring for one of her grandsons when his mum, Erin, Barb’s eldest daughter, was killed in a car accident and his dad couldn’t cope. And there were always other kids, like Nat, underfoot.
Barb laughed, put a hand on Tilly’s shoulder and pulled her in close. ‘Your mother used to think my scones were the best thing since sliced bread. But if you don’t like scones I have some other treats that might take your fancy. Come and let’s get you settled and then we’ll see if I can tempt you.’
She didn’t give Tilly a chance to answer, sweeping her away and down the path towards the cottage. Lips curled in a smile, Nat followed. She’d made the right decision. She was certain now she was here the nightmares of the past were far behind her.
Chapter 3
‘How come the Christmas tree’s not decorated yet?’ Nat asked as they passed the big pine tree that stood ten metres past the main building, set back from the path that led down to the cottage. It was usually strung with lights and decorations at the beginning of December and they were already a week into it.
‘We started a tradition a few years ago, after the fires, of decorating it on the mid-December camp. It takes the place of the bonfire we do on the autumn, winter and spring camps. The kids love it and some of the farmers and their families and workers come to join in the fun as well. If the CFA gives the all clear, we have a BBQ out here too and make it a whole big night of eating and carols and tree lighting.’
‘That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Tilly?’
She shrugged, but there was a light of longing in her eyes. A stab pierced Nat’s heart as she realised the full impact of Andrew’s illness on Tilly over the last few years. He hadn’t been able to deal with Christmas, the decorations, the fuss, the music, so over the last few years, they’d really had nothing at all, only a few gifts left for Tilly in her bedroom on Christmas Eve for her to wake up and unwrap with Nat sitting beside her quietly. Always quietly. That wasn’t Christmas. Christmas was supposed to be big and boisterous and colourful. She had to make this one better. ‘Have you decorated the lounge or dining room yet?’
‘No. I was waiting for you and Tilly to get here to help me with that,’ Barb said, smile wide, eyes knowing. ‘Mac brought in a big pine tree for the corner and pulled out all the boxes of decorations, so there’s lots to do. I thought we could get stuck into decorating the tree tonight and then tomorrow we can do the rest, what do you think?’
‘You really celebrate Christmas here?’<
br />
‘Of course. It’s a big day for my family, always has been. Hasn’t your mum told you about Christmas here?’
Tilly shook her head, eyes wide.
‘Well —’ Barb slung her arm around Tilly’s shoulder, ‘—that’s even better. Everything’s going to be a wonderful surprise. I love surprises, don’t you?’
Tilly smiled again. Nat could have hugged Barb.
‘Here we are,’ Barb said.
The cottage looked almost the same, except it had had a coat of paint at some stage, the once dirty cream weatherboards above the bluestone base, now a ghost gum grey with dark gunmetal grey highlights around the windows. The dark cherry red door and red corrugated iron roof should have looked wrong, but nestled in the bush the way it was, the splash of colour was just right. Her heart thumped hard and her eyes burned as she fought a sudden rush of tears. She was home. She hadn’t realised until now just how much she needed to feel that.
‘Can the dogs come in?’ Tilly asked Barb as they walked up the front steps.
‘That’s up to your mum. They’re mostly outside dogs, although they do come and sit with me in the office and Bos has arthritis so he’s allowed to sleep inside now rather than in the barn with the others.’
Tilly turned to Nat, her brow raised, eyes hopeful.
Nat ran her hand over Tilly’s hair. She was going to say no but couldn’t with Tilly looking at her like that. ‘All right, they can come in, but if they make messes, we’ll have to rethink their invitation.’
‘Yay. Thanks, Mum.’ She ran in as Barb pushed the door open, the dogs at her heels.
Nat followed, pulling the bags, and stopped just inside the door. ‘Oh, it’s lovely.’
Rather than the scratched floorboards in bad need of a polish, the floorboards, burnished a deep honey, gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The old floral sofa covered in an ancient throw rug to hide all the worn patches had been replaced with a soft leather sofa the colour of deep forest ferns, matching armchairs sitting at angles either side of it, separated from the sofa by red wood side tables, an Indian red, gold and topaz throw and matching cushions brightening the space with bursts of colour. The sofa and armchairs all faced the new stone fireplace and the flat screen TV that hung over the mantel.
Climbing Fear Page 3