Wildflower Ridge

by Maya Linnell

  ‘Here, let me help with that,’ he said, striding across the kitchen.

  She stood quietly as he reached across the island bench and lifted a lock of hair from her face.

  ‘Sorry Mac, wind caught the door before I could stop it. Windy enough to blow a dog off the chain.’ He stepped away, pulling the wringing wet shirt from his shoulders and slicking his own hair away from his forehead.

  Penny washed her hands and threw a tea towel over her schnitzel production line.

  ‘No worries. You look like you could do with warming up. There’s soup on the wood-fire if you’re keen for an early lunch?’

  Tim nodded and headed back to the laundry to wash up. He didn’t need soup to warm up—being so close to her again was the equivalent of eating a bowl of chilli. He called out over the running water.

  ‘Might grab a takeaway mug, ta? Bit of baking therapy underway?’

  He strolled back into the kitchen. Penny stood there, a puzzled look on her face as she assessed the mixing bowls and measuring cups spread across the counter. Annabel’s recipe book was propped open to the desserts section and she grabbed one of the yo-yo biscuits piled up on a wire cooling rack.

  ‘I was only going to make soup and schnitzels but you’re right, it seems to have morphed into a full-blown baking session. I’ve invited everyone to dinner tonight. I think we could all do with a nice meal. You and Eddie are welcome to join us.’ She turned to retrieve the pot of soup from the top of the fire.

  Tim watched her with a smile, his thoughts scattering in all directions. Mac cooking for him in just the apron, no clothes between her skin and the thin floral fabric. Mac the same age as Nanna Pearl, her need to nurture continuing until soft tissue rounded her angular hips and padded out her slim build. He pictured himself standing by her side, after fifty or so years of companionship. A memory jumped out at him, snatching his fanciful notions away: a vision of Penny in a blue-and-white school uniform, shiny shoes and braided hair; the smile that had been reserved just for him morphing into a frown a few months into their relationship, the corners of her mouth turned down with distaste as her friends, and then finally Penny too, whispered about him in the schoolyard. He remembered her sickly pallor, her fragile body as he’d carried her upstairs on her return to McIntyre Park. Then the citrus-scented woman who had invaded his thoughts ever since that cooking disaster in the community hall. Which is the real deal? He shook his head, trying to clear the many faces of Penny McIntyre from his mind.

  Penny was unnerved by Tim’s silence. She felt like shoving the soup ladle in her mouth. First, I’ve ignored the farm accounts and put off a phone call to Georgie in favour of slaving over a hot stove. Second, I’ve come up with the ridiculous idea of an impromptu family dinner including Lara—the last person I feel like being civil to—and third, I’ve invited Eddie and Tim, a man who could rival Colin Firth in a wet T-shirt competition. Maybe Diana isn’t the only one losing the plot around here.

  Tim cleared his throat.

  ‘We wouldn’t want to impose.’

  ‘Well, the invitation’s there. I know we haven’t always been on the best of terms, but I’m thankful for your help, Tim.’ She turned to face him again, proffering a mug of steaming soup, and he bit back a smile at the trail of biscuit crumbs down her chest.

  ‘And I know Dad would be grateful too.’

  The corner of Tim’s mouth turned up, followed by a flash of conflict that raced across his features so quickly Penny thought she’d imagined it.

  ‘Thanks, we’ll come. Routine will probably do Eddie some good. He was freaked out by the whole accident and hospital thing.’

  He opened his mouth to say more, but the shrill ring of the telephone stopped him.

  ‘Might be the hospital,’ said Penny, reaching for the phone. She hoped it wasn’t Georgie. It would take another few batches of biscuits before she worked out how to handle that call.

  Vince’s enthusiastic greeting boomed into the kitchen and Tim waved a silent goodbye, retreating from the house with the mug in hand. Penny listened to Vince’s animated account of the presentation he had just finished, but her focus was on the navy Holden heading down the driveway, Bones the kelpie bracing against the wind in the back. The maple trees whipped from side to side as he passed them, the very last red and yellow leaves floating from the branches and flying into the paddocks.

  She forced herself back to the phone call, her boyfriend’s voice bringing her back to the topic at hand.

  ‘… apartment’s all shipshape like you wanted. Everything’s out of storage and back in its place. The only thing missing is you, babe, and then it will all be back to normal.’ She heard the eagerness in his voice, his contrite effort to please her.

  Penny thought of Angus lying paralysed in hospital, Lara’s flippant idea of selling the farm, Angie’s and Diana’s uncharacteristic behaviour in the last few days and her flickers of unwanted attraction to Tim, of all people. How could things possibly go back to normal now?

  Thirty-six

  Penny wandered away from the saleyard canteen, freeing the bacon and egg roll from its wrapper. She took a generous bite of the warm, salty concoction, determined to ignore the number of calories and hoped it wouldn’t smudge her lipstick. Rolls for Eddie and Tim were tucked under her left arm; they would have to share the last bottle of orange juice. She headed back towards the market where all the action was—a chorus of auctioneers, keen bidders and noisy livestock, dozens of small groups lingering to discuss their purchases, others bustling ahead to inspect upcoming pens of sheep.

  ‘Hup a bid, hup a bid. Who’s gonna give me a bid?’ the auctioneer called from his walkway high above the pens of sheep, at least six feet above the crowd. His hands waved as furiously as his rapid-fire voice, taking bids higher as the auction got underway.

  Penny had always enjoyed the markets as a child, relishing the opportunity to weave in and out of the crowd with other farm kids, occasionally stopping to eavesdrop on adult conversations or beg her parents for some spending money. Tim had been right: the markets were a good idea in a week that had been fraught with tension. He had changed her mind about cancelling their pre-arranged load, explaining their market ewes were in perfect sale condition. She was glad she’d accompanied them to the sale. At least I’ll have something positive to report back to Dad this afternoon, she thought, scanning the crowd.

  Tim’s yellow-and-navy-striped rugby jumper made it easy to spot him at the back of the bidders, where he was gesturing with his hands as he spoke to another man. Eddie stood beside him, enjoying the spectacle of the frenzied auctioneer trying to get the best money for a mob of motley-looking ewes. Their sale pen had fetched twice as much as this lot.

  Penny approached Tim and Eddie, only recognising their east-boundary neighbour, William Cleary, when it was too late to walk away.

  ‘Ah, here she is. Penelope, you must have felt your ears burning.’

  ‘William, nice to see you again,’ she said, nodding to the rake-thin older man as she handed out the rolls. She had never warmed to William or his family, even though Angus seemed to get along with him just fine. And Tim too, from the look of things. Her mother’s comments about their gossipy neighbour had stayed with her long after Annabel had passed away, and she knew that any snippets of news spread faster than a bushfire when William Cleary was within earshot.

  ‘Sad business with Angus. Lucky it didn’t finish him off altogether.’

  Penny gaped at the comment. Distracted by the bidding action, William didn’t even notice the impact of his words. She shot Tim a glance. He had stopped mid-mouthful, egg yolk running down his chin, a pained look on his face.

  ‘Anyway, I was just saying to Timmy here that I’ll lend a hand whenever you need. Or get the old girl to bake you a cake or two. Give her something to do with all her spare time.’ His dry laugh turned into a splutter.

  Penny walked away before her temper got the better of her. She felt sorry for his wife, who probably had as muc
h spare time as the next overworked and under-recognised farming woman. There’s no way we’ll be accepting any help from him, she thought, stalking towards the bidding arena.

  ‘Penny McIntyre, you haven’t changed a whisker,’ said a familiar voice. Penny turned and recognised the face beneath the chubby jowls and tent-like shirt of the woman next to her.

  ‘Rachel Harvey? I haven’t seen you in what, fifteen years? Are these all yours?’

  Penny gestured to the tribe of children huddled around her school pal’s legs, each decked out in peaked hats, polo shirts and a rainbow of rugby jumpers.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m happy to loan them out if you need a new form of contraception. Dad said he called round last week. I’m sorry about Angus. Is he on the mend?’

  Penny was pleased to see her high school friend’s humour was still the same, albeit buried under the weight of motherhood. She watched Rachel ruffle her children’s hair fondly, the tender gesture overriding her words.

  ‘Dad’s pretty banged up, won’t be much use on the farm when he gets out of the hospital.’

  ‘So, are you going to have a crack at running it?’

  ‘Not likely. I’m heading back to Melbourne as soon as we get Dad sorted.’

  ‘Rushing back to the rat race, eh? Your mum pegged you as a high-flyer from the start, didn’t she? You always did have the gift of the gab, I suppose. Well, for what it’s worth, I reckon you can take the girl outta the country, but you can’t take the country outta the girl. I can just picture you back on the land.’

  Penny shook her head and steered the conversation in a different direction.

  ‘Are you still with …’ Penny paused, trying to remember the name of the farmer her friend had married straight out of high school. The name slipped into her mind as a short man wearing a baseball cap sauntered towards them. ‘Andrew?’

  ‘Yep, same old, same old,’ Rachel said, turning as her husband’s hand snaked around her waist. ‘Not much has changed around here, has it, Andy? You remember Penny?’

  He lifted one of the little girls onto his shoulders, the resemblance between father and daughter unmistakable.

  ‘G’day, Penny, you’re a blast from the past. The father-in-law mentioned you were home. I hear you’ve hooked up with Tim Patterson too? Better late than never.’

  Penny spluttered her orange juice. ‘He’s working for my father, but that’s about it.’ Penny looked behind her at Tim, who was still cornered by William. As if he felt her gaze, Tim looked up, a small smile lightening the pained expression on his face. She shook her head. Tim’s a big boy; if he can’t extricate himself from a conversation with someone who calls him Timmy, then he deserves the ear bashing.

  Rachel elbowed her husband in the ribs. ‘You’ve been hanging around that post office too long,’ she scolded. ‘Don’t mind Andy, he gets the local gossip all mixed up. She’s got a city boyfriend—remember the postcard story? Though that might be off now, given the whole Facebook saga.’

  Penny grimaced, wondering if there was anything about her life that wasn’t public news.

  ‘Well, I’d heard Tim had something going with one of the McIntyre girls. Sorry, Penny, I must have got the wrong end of the stick,’ he said, tickling his daughter’s toes.

  ‘Nope, not me. Anyway, I’d better check our next mob. They’ll be under the hammer any minute now. Nice to see you both,’ Penny said, wondering whether the town’s rumour mill had somehow got wind of their near-kiss in the hall. Not that I care, she reminded herself, edging her way into the bidding circle.

  Penny caught sight of the photographer just as he lowered his gigantic lens. She dropped her hand from Tim’s arm, wondering whether the camera had been trained on her when the auctioneer called out the final bid, or if the photographer had been busy capturing the shocked reaction from the rest of the crowd as their final pen of McIntyre Park ewes topped the sale. She stepped away and slipped into the fold as congratulations floated around her. What had made her fling her arms around the six-foot sandy-haired man standing beside her? And what would everyone in Bridgefield think if the newspaper printed the photo of her and Tim in next week’s Stock & Land?

  ‘Bloody great price, Timmy. Angus will be proud.’ William Cleary clapped Tim on the shoulder like a proud father. ‘Might smuggle a few through the boundary fence, cheaper than buying ’em.’

  She watched people who had lost money to Roger Patterson crowding around Tim. She wondered how long it had taken them to get over the sting of Roger’s betrayal, how long until they had spoken the Patterson name without bitterness. She turned and walked out of the bidding arena. Life had been a lot easier when she still thought Tim Patterson was tarred with the same brush as his father.

  Thirty-seven

  ‘I think Lara’s avoiding me,’ said Penny, scooping a prawn into her mouth. Another counter meal seemed decadent while Angus continued to lie in the hospital, sleeping more than he was awake, but Penny had eaten all the casseroles she could handle for one week and the hospital cafeteria left a lot to be desired. It hadn’t taken Angie and Diana much convincing to meet her at the hotel for lunch, though the open invitation to all three sisters was met with radio silence from Lara’s end, just like Penny’s invitation to the family dinner at the farmhouse earlier in the week.

  ‘She could just be busy—you know the way they change up night shifts with on-call stuff and then throw in a few early shifts?’ said Angie, fork dangling next to her mouth thoughtfully. Her ability to see the best in everyone was humbling, and Penny sighed resignedly.

  ‘Well, she still manages to run for an hour or so every day; I don’t think anything gets in the way of that. She’s going to campaign hard for the farm sale, whether we like it or not,’ said Penny, shifting the salad around on her plate.

  ‘I think Dad’s accident just flustered her. I’m sure she’s not serious—she loves the farm as much as we all do, doesn’t she?’

  Diana leaned forward, quickly scanning the hotel playroom where the twins were burning off energy, before responding.

  ‘Well, I hate to say it, but I agree with Penny about the sale. Pete said the succession planning team at his stock agency deals with family farming conflicts all the time, and it usually boils down to money. She might be angling for an early inheritance?’

  ‘Get out of here.’ Angie shook her head doubtfully as Penny nodded.

  ‘Think about it,’ said Diana, warming to her subject. ‘You’ve got good money coming through with your beauty salon, Angie. Penny’s investments have set her up financially, and Pete and I have a solid income and savings plan. So solid, he’s tucked our nest egg away, out of reach,’ she said, an edge to her voice. ‘There’s only one of us without that type of financial security.’

  ‘What’s the deal with Sam? Won’t he pay child support?’

  ‘Pfft, he was even worse with money than Lara. The best thing he did was crawl under a rock somewhere, never to be seen again,’ said Diana.

  ‘She’ll never find another guy who’s willing to put up with all her hostility. She should have begged him to stay,’ said Penny.

  Diana shook her head, unconvinced.

  ‘You were in the city when it all went belly-up the first time. You didn’t see how she was. And when I asked her about the recent split, she told me she never wanted to see him again.’

  Angie shrugged. ‘Well, that didn’t last long. Mrs Beggs at the shop said he was back in Bridgefield this morning. Filling up at the servo.’

  Diana’s response was immediate, her eyes growing wide.

  ‘Really? Does Lara know?’

  ‘I forgot to ask. Things have been crazy this week. I haven’t seen Lara since the weekend. She isn’t answering my calls either.’

  Diana swore under her breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialling as she strode across the hotel dining room.

  ‘What was that all about?’ said Penny.

  Angie shrugged again. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, but Diana’s no
t happy.’

  ‘Bugger. Don’t look now, but William Cleary is walking our way. Saw him at the saleyard earlier this week—I’d forgotten how much he can talk.’

  ‘He’s more of a gossip than Mrs Beggs. Is he drunk?’ Angie spoke under her breath.

  Penny watched the way he slopped the beer over the edge of his glass as he staggered towards them, took in his flushed cheeks.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘If it isn’t the McIntyre girlies, out to lunch. Fancy seein’ you twice in a week … P’nelopeee. And little Angela.’Cept you’re not so little anymore, are you?’ He laughed, spraying beery breath across the table.

  Penny pushed the remains of her prawn salad away, her appetite disappearing.

  ‘We’d love to stay and chat, William, but hospital visiting hours have just started,’ said Penny. She gathered her handbag from under the table. Angie tossed a napkin over her plate and followed Penny’s lead, equally keen to get moving before he launched into a long-winded story.

  ‘Don’t get your knickers in a knot, girlie. Say g’day to old Angus from me. Tell him he’s done a good deed selling the farm to Timmy. Needs a good break, that boy.’

  Penny grabbed William’s arm as he lurched directly into their table, and spun him around with a little more force than necessary.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Other diners turned in their seats as William stumbled again, slopping more beer down his chest.