by Maya Linnell
Tim pulled the shearing shed door open, squinting into the bright sunshine. Goosebumps prickled his skin as he scanned the laneway. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to return the sheep to their paddock. He’d counted out the runs himself, filled in the tally books and set Penny’s trays of slice and fruit salad onto the battered tearoom table, where the shearers had started devouring them at a rapid rate. But it wasn’t like her to dilly-dally. A pang of concern lodged itself in his chest and he shook away far-fetched reasons to explain her tardiness. Don’t be ridiculous, Patterson. Fat chance of two serious accidents in two months at the same farm. And she was on foot anyway, numb-nut. He took the steps two at a time and an unexpected sense of relief washed over him at the sight of Penny jogging across from the farmhouse. He looked beyond her, to the trio of cars parked in the driveway.
Sweat sucked Penny’s work shirt to her body, showcasing a figure that had been haunting his restless dreams and attracting covert glances from the team of shearers. He felt his irritation rising as he realised just how much their interest irked him, as if they wanted to discover whether she was as sweet as the chocolate slice and cakes she baked.
Tim shoved his shoulders back, burying the unwanted twinge of possessiveness, and walked towards her. One look at her tightly knitted brow and the thunder in her eyes, and he knew the driveway traffic jam wasn’t just a pleasant social visit. Though from what he’d seen recently, the McIntyre sisters didn’t seem to do pleasant social anymore.
‘What’s up, Mac? Smoko’s almost over. Thought I was going to have to send out the search party.’
‘Dad’s home.’
Tim whistled low. He hadn’t expected to see Angus at the farm for another month or so. Admittedly, it would make crosschecking farm arrangements a little easier, but Penny didn’t look like she saw it that way.
‘He’d be pleased about that,’ he said cautiously.
Penny blew out an exasperated breath, rolling her eyes to the blue sky.
‘He might be, but I’m not. I’m not a nurse and I’ve got enough on my plate without this. I don’t know the first thing about rehab or physio. He’d better be able to wash himself. There are some things a daughter shouldn’t have to see.’
Tim turned back to the shed, hiding the grin that threatened to expose just how sexy he found her anger. The fiery scowl and wrinkled-up nose were easier to appreciate when they weren’t directed at him.
‘I’m sure the others will pitch in. Best boss I’ve ever worked for. At least you know he’ll be a good patient.’
‘He’d better be.’
The UTV engine idled as Eddie swung the gate open. Penny drove through, collecting him after the gate was firmly latched. Eddie loved the new side-by-side bike and he rushed to help shift mobs of sheep, check water troughs and return the freshly shorn animals to the far paddocks. The expression on his face when he climbed aboard was priceless, and she saw how he yearned for the open air, relished being useful and treated each day on the farm as a new adventure.
Tim was waiting for them as she pulled up outside the shearing shed, Bones lying by his side.
‘Got a minute, Mac? Might need to review our final week of shearing. New alert just came in from the BOM website,’ he said, leaning an arm against the UTV’s roof.
Penny groaned. Eddie mimicked her reaction.
‘Just my luck, when we’re so close to finishing. And with lambing starting next week. What are they tipping?’
Tim pulled his phone from his back pocket, angling the cracked screen away from the sun. Like his scuffed boots, grease-stained shirts and ripped jeans, the phone had been put through its paces. And if the duct tape holding the back cover together was any indication, he expected it to last a lot longer. She reached into her pocket for her own phone and opened the bureau’s website from her ‘favourites’ list.
‘There’s a massive front with hail, thunder and lightning expected mid-next-week. Looking like fifty to seventy-five mills on the worst day, with howling westerlies. Not pretty.’
‘Do you think we can get the shearing finished by then?’
‘We’ll have a red-hot crack. Otherwise, we can push through this weekend, then pen up the last few mobs in the shed while the worst is coming down, and we’ll be able to work through next weekend.’
Penny leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Georgie was counting on her to lead the client meeting that weekend, and she knew it was a prime opportunity to assert some control over the project. Pulling out was the last thing she wanted to do.
She looked up at the sky, the fluffy white clouds against a brilliant blue offering no hint of the looming forecast. Please hold off another week, she begged silently.
Forty-nine
‘Welcome home, Dad,’ said Diana, placing a rogue raspberry back on top of the black forest cake. Angus looked up from his seat at the head of the table and raised his glass of orange juice.
They toasted his homecoming. The children giggled as they clinked glasses of juice, pleased to be included in the celebrations.
‘I’m chockers, but I’ll still have a shot at that cake. Stunning, love. You’ve outdone yourself.’
Diana flushed with pride.
‘Better late than never, Dad. Hopefully, it tastes all right,’ said Lara, passing the knife down the table, oblivious to the dirty look from Diana.
Angie cut and served the cake, hesitating as she reached Penny’s side.
‘Hey, Pen. How’s things?’
Penny weighed up the pros and cons of being light and breezy, or answering honestly. She looked at her sister’s freshly painted nails and pushed her ragged fingernails into her lap. Angie’s sudden support of Lara defied logic. She rebuffed her younger sister’s first attempt at reconnection.
‘Rushed off my feet with shearing. Working my guts out at night trying to keep on top of marketing,’ said Penny. She jerked her head in Angus’s direction and lowered her voice. ‘And my patient over there is an added challenge I could’ve done without. But apart from that, just peachy.’
Angie looked at Angus, her tone defensive. ‘He seems pretty good to me.’
They both looked up as Diana’s husband leaned in between the two of them, little pieces of cake clinging to his beard.
‘What’s all the whispering, you two?’
‘Nothing, Pete. You might want to keep an eye on the boys though. Elliot looks like he’s had too much sugar.’
They turned their attention to the end of the table. Evie and Cameron were perched on the dining room floor, rolling a soft ball back and forth underneath the table, as the twins scurried between adults’ legs and table legs trying to intercept it.
Pete laughed. ‘They’re just playing. Time for another slice of cake, methinks.’ He drifted across to the dessert platter, leaving the sisters to their conversation.
‘You try helping him get dressed, Angie, or reminding him to do his physio exercises. You haven’t seen him in a mood yet. I’ll send him around to your place, then you’ll see.’
At that moment, just as Angie rolled her eyes, Angus let out a shriek.
‘Arghh, little bugger nearly ran into my ankle! Friggin’ hell. Watch where you’re going, mate.’
There was a gasp from Diana as she pushed out her chair and rushed to Angus’s side. Pete scooped Elliot up and took the sobbing child into the lounge room.
Angie’s mouth dropped open at the outburst.
‘I’ve never heard him speak like that. Except when the ram charged him last summer,’ she said.
‘Exactly. Dad’s losing his temper more and more. If he’s that angry with the kids, imagine how grumpy he is with me. It’s not fun.’
‘Give him a break, Penny. The poor guy, he said they’ve cut his pain medication. It must be hard adjusting to his new normal, seeing you working in the paddocks, doing all the things he loved.’
‘I hope that’s all it is, Angie. Something tells me there’s more to it than that.’
Penny sign
alled to the truck driver with her hands, calling out to swing further left as his flat-top tray inched closer to the loading ramp. It was the first load since shearing began, and she got inordinate satisfaction from seeing the heavy bales lined up on the small truck.
‘Woah up. That’ll do it,’ Penny yelled, raising both palms to him.
Penny waited for the truck driver to tie down the bales, looking to the horizon. The sky remained blue, the clouds nonthreatening. Hopefully, next week’s storm was an exaggeration. She took her phone out of her pocket to check the weather once again.
The bureau website flashed away to an incoming call. Penny smiled as Vince’s name appeared and stepped down from the ramp to take the call.
‘Vince, how are you going? You should see all these wool bales. It’s a pretty impressive load.’
‘Hey, babe. That’s why I’m calling. I’d love to. How’s this weekend sound?’
She laughed, walking away from the action above her. ‘That’s keen. How good are you on the end of a broom? The shearing shed roustabout is off with gastro—she threw up all over the tearoom this morning, so I could use an extra set of hands.’
‘You make it sound so sexy.’ He laughed dryly. ‘I’ll give it a shot, as long as you promise to wear your tightest jeans. I’ve missed that hot body of yours. We can get cosy in your old bedroom. Maybe take a detour out in the fields, a little lust in the dust?’
She could hear the smile in his voice and felt her body respond with a sizzle. It had been a long time. Vince wasn’t the only one missing their physical contact, and she was on the verge of agreeing when Tim’s whistle cut through the air. She turned to see him hunting another mob into the shed. The movement brought her back to her senses. As a complete rookie, Vince would be more hindrance than help in the shearing shed. Her single bed creaked each time she rolled over. It was never going to be an ideal setting. And with Angus’s mood swings, he wasn’t likely to be the most accommodating host while she was busy working.
‘You know what, maybe it’s not a good idea, Vince. I’ve got another huge weekend of shearing, trying to get them finished off before the big storm next week. But all going well, I’ll be back in Melbourne Saturday for a client meeting. Then we can make up for lost time.’
‘Penny, my angel. You’re killing me. You say that now, but I bet you’ll cancel, like last time.’
Tim whistled again as he moved directly underneath the loading ramp, shielding his face against the glare. He waved as she spotted him below, pointing to his watch. She covered the phone with her hand as she nodded at Tim.
‘Only twenty minutes till lunchtime, Mac. Want me to flick the oven on?’
‘Thanks, Tim.’
She watched Tim head back inside and returned the phone to her ear. Vince was still protesting.
‘Babe? Who’s that?’
‘No one just … just our farmhand. I’ve gotta go, Vince. Next weekend, I promise.’
‘Penny, c’mon. I miss you.’
‘Me too. But honestly, Vince, it won’t work this weekend. I’ll be in the shed all day and fall into bed, completely knackered, at 8 p.m. That is if I’ve got all the catering done beforehand.’ She started walking up the steps, her mind now focused on the task of preparing lunch for four shearers, two shedhands, a wool classer and a wool presser, plus Angus, Tim and herself.
Vince sighed, his playful pleading turning to frustration. ‘I can see why Georgie is getting nervous about your commitment, Penny. I’m wondering the same thing myself. I’ll talk to you later when you’ve got a spare minute.’
Penny paused mid-step and the phone went silent. She stomped up the steps and shoved open the tearoom door. How dare he question my commitment? And what the hell has Georgie been saying? She squared her shoulders and tried to convince herself that living this double life was worth all the drama.
Fifty
Penny opened the oven door, the rush of heat making her necklace sizzle against her neck. Instead of the golden-brown mounds of pastry she’d been expecting, the sausage rolls were flaccid on top, oozing out the sides and burned underneath. What a bloody mess.
‘For Pete’s sake,’ she muttered tipping them into the bin.
It was her fifth late-night baking session of the week, and feeding the team of hungry shearers had become a chore. She now wished she had offered the shearing team a lunch allowance, instead of supplying it herself as her mother had always done.
‘It’s enough to put you off cooking altogether,’ she said to Rusty, whose indoor visits were more frequent than her father approved of.
‘Dogs are supposed to live outside. You’ll ruin them as good workers if you let them inside and treat them like pets,’ he had growled yesterday, when Rusty came in to clear up crumbs under the table.
The bee in his bonnet about the dog was one of several divisions that had opened up after his much-anticipated return home, including complaints about her cooking, snappy remarks about the new UTV and unsolicited criticism of her farm-management skills.
She turned down the oven temperature with a sharp flick of her wrist and began setting up another slab of puff pastry on the bench. As she mixed minced lamb with crushed garlic and fresh rosemary, she puzzled over her father’s behaviour.
How can he be so cranky when I’m only trying to help? If anyone can sympathise, it’s me, she thought, rolling the pastry over the meat filling and setting it on the baking tray. I know what it’s like to feel useless, when you can’t do a darn thing to fast-track recovery. Why won’t he take my advice and help himself?
She shook her head while forking an air vent into the top of each sausage roll, and slipped the new batch into the oven. Her laptop pinged, the bright screen lighting up the dining table.
The email from Georgie made the burned sausage rolls pale into insignificance. She scrolled through urgently.
Did you reread that press alert before you hit send yesterday? Three of the Melbourne journos have called to clarify. These blunders are becoming way too regular for my liking, Penny. Call me.
Penny’s pulse quickened and despite the late hour, she reached for the phone.
The clinking of glass against porcelain floated through the laundry window. Penny stripped off her jacket, beanie and boots and discovered Diana bustling around the kitchen.
‘A cleaning fairy, direct from the heavens. You’re an angel, Diana.’ Penny’s voice was groggy, and she felt grit underfoot as she headed straight to the kettle. She heaped two teaspoons of coffee into a semi-clean mug and added milk and sugar before remembering her manners.
‘Want one?’
‘No, I’m good. I knew things were busy, Penny, but I’ve never seen the kitchen in this state.’
Penny looked around. Newspapers competed for bench space among media releases and marketing reports. Crumb-covered plates sat between an open jar of vegemite and the toaster. Empty Tupperware and casserole containers lay abandoned and homeless at the far end of the bench, awaiting their mystery owners. She nodded, pouring the boiling water. The mug warmed her cold hands as she took a sip.
‘I was up until 2 a.m. last night trying to fix a work stuff-up, then the alarm smashed me at 5 a.m. The kitchen is in a pretty good state, considering. Don’t look in the bathroom,’ she said, resting her head against the wall cabinets, hoping she had at least kicked her underwear to the bottom of the heap on the tiled floor.
‘You know I don’t like to interfere,’ said Diana, setting the dishcloth down.
Penny quirked an eyebrow.
‘Really, I don’t. But as your big sister, I have to tell you when things are spiralling. And this is definitely spiralling down.’ Diana surveyed the room, her lips pursed.
‘I was going to tidy this afternoon.’
‘Didn’t you learn anything from the Ross River fever thing? I know you’re trying to do it all, but you don’t want to risk a relapse.’
‘I’m going okay. It’s just a rough patch with shearing and a cantankerous patient. It’s
not like you can talk, Diana. You’re stretched as thin as Glad Wrap with all the kids’ stuff, school council, weekend sports and dance rehearsals. And you still manage to get home-cooked meals on the table every night.’
Diana gripped Penny’s forearm and squeezed it lightly.
‘Don’t make an example of me. Half the time I’m a prime example of how not to do things. But I do all of it for love. You reap what you sow with kids, so I’ve got a vested interest in my madness.
‘Can you honestly say the money you earn at Boutique Media, and the hours doing your hair and make-up—despite being ridiculously strapped for time—are worth the effort? How many hours have you spent worrying about Vince this week? Would the shearers even care if you gave them a thirty-dollar meal allowance instead of providing food?’
‘At least I’m having a go, Diana. I’m trying my best.’ Penny shook Diana’s hand off and clunked the mug down on the bench, smoothing her hair defensively.
‘But are you working for the love of it? Or for the money? Or the image? I hope it’s all worth it, Pen.’
Penny blew out a furious breath as Diana’s words cut close to the bone. Her voice was loud as she replied, any concern about interrupting Angus’s afternoon nap evaporating in anger.
‘I thought families were supposed to support each other? I’ve got Lara and Angie in cahoots, Dad’s lost the plot, I still don’t know if I trust Tim, and now you’re on my back. What do you expect me to do? Magic up a clone who can keep my career running smoothly while I try to keep the farm afloat? All these things I’m juggling are important to me. I can’t drop the ball now.’
Diana closed her eyes. Her lips moved as if she were counting silently.
Despite her irritation, Penny could see the startling likeness between Diana and their mother. A pang of sadness rolled over her and she took a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry for yelling.’
‘Penny, I’m worried about you. You’ve got to prioritise or lighten your load somehow. Otherwise, you’ll be heading straight back to the hospital at this rate. I’ll come back and help later if you’re ready to accept it.’