Prodigal Daughter

by Jane Carter

  Tom should be finished the planting soon. Then they just had to wait for some more rain. The thirty points they had a few weeks ago was enough to wet the soil, get things going, but they needed follow-up rain, badly. Like they’d needed rain badly these last ten years.

  Tom came in filthy, reddened eyes and covered in dust. He went to wash up and came and sat down at the table. Stella didn’t think he was terribly impressed by the spread before him either and he got up to get the jam out of the refrigerator.

  ‘Fancy Diana asking for puftaloons,’ she said. ‘Remember we used to cook them on picnics when the girls were little?’

  By the look on his face he was obviously thinking puftaloons would be good right now.

  ‘Well, I’m finished the planting. Tractor’s back in the shed,’ he said. ‘That’s it, now we need rain. Is this all?’ He looked at the food on the table. ‘I’m quite hungry.’

  That was a surprise. He hadn’t been hungry lately. He’d hardly been eating anything.

  ‘There’s a tin of baked beans in the pantry. I’ll get it.’

  ‘I think I’ll give Milo some lessons on the bike when they get back. He’s ten, plenty old enough.’

  ‘You’d better ask Diana first.’

  He smiled at her. ‘It’s good having them here, isn’t it?’

  She smiled back. ‘Yes.’ She was afraid to say how much she loved having them. ‘I’m glad Diana’s taken them out on a picnic. I’m so worried about her, you know she won’t talk about Charlie at all to me. It’s not good for her, is it?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t worried about someone or something,’ said Tom. ‘She’ll talk when she’s ready. Thing is, Stell, how about we go down and join them? At the creek. I’ve finished for the day, there’s no reason we couldn’t go, is there?’

  Stella jumped up. ‘Great idea. Oh, I don’t know, should we invade their space? Do you think Diana wants to be alone with the kids? They’ve got plenty of food.’

  ‘It’s a great day out there. Couldn’t get a better one. Come on, we’ll go on the bike.’

  Stella swallowed her surprise. Tom hadn’t suggested something like this for ages. But she wasn’t going to demur. ‘I’ll just find a hat.’

  * * *

  ‘So how do you like the arty world, Diana? Charlie would have fitted right in with it, wouldn’t he?’

  Mal was turning the sausages over.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. I think he enjoyed it more than I did. It’s very different to here. Just looking around makes me sad though, it’s so beautiful. I’ve missed all this.’ Diana waved her arm around. ‘I wanted to be a farmer. You never know where life is going to lead you.’

  ‘But you’ve done so well, been very successful, from all reports. You wouldn’t have done that here.’

  Diana was about to answer when they heard shouts from above.

  ‘Hi, there, any one home?’

  They looked up. Two bodies were scrambling down the steep bank.

  ‘Tom, Stella!’ The children yelled in delight and rushed over to greet them.

  ‘How did you get here?’ Diana asked.

  ‘We came on the bike.’ Stella laughed. ‘Tom finished early so we thought, that is, can we—’

  ‘Of course,’ said Diana. ‘That’s wonderful. Look who’s here? Mal found us, too.’

  ‘Um, I could have been responsible for that.’ Stella looked a little guilty. Diana laughed and gave her a hug.

  This was something they should have done before. Everyone relaxed, and the kids were being normal. Diana felt so happy. Mal was throwing stones into the water with Milo to see who could make the biggest splash, and Stella and the girls were looking for fairies—a game she remembered from long ago, with Rosie and Cody. She turned to the sausages.

  ‘Help! They’re burning.’

  The sausages were only a little charred and they ate them in a slice of bread. No sauce—the sauce had been forgotten, but no one minded.

  Diana filled the saucepan with the oil to cook the puftaloons. ‘Just you wait, kids! These will be fantastic. Mum, thank God you’re here to show me how to do it.’

  ‘Oh no, you’ll do a much better job than me.’ Stella shook her head.

  ‘Hey, give it to me, I haven’t forgotten.’ Mal reached for the dish that held the dough and dropped three spoonfuls into the hot oil.

  ‘Wow,’ said Milo. The children were fascinated. They all watched the little puftaloons magically expand and begin to colour as they rolled slowly in the oil.

  ‘I didn’t bring any sugar. Oh, I know.’ Diana went to the basket and found the packet of marshmallows. ‘Look what I’ve got.’ She was jubilant and sent the kids looking for sharp sticks. Milo came back and showed her the stick he’d found

  ‘Perfect,’ said Diana and handed him a marshmallow. ‘Right, now put the marshmallow on the end and hold it over the fire. Not right in. Just a little closer, that’s right.’

  They all agreed that melted marshmallows on top of puftaloons, served on a plate of folded newspaper, were just the best thing that any of them had ever tasted.

  After lunch, just Diana and Stella were left sitting beside the dying fire. Tom had taken Milo back with him on the bike and Mal had left soon after. Diana sat propped against a tree trunk and Stella was sitting on a rock where she could keep an eye on the two girls who were playing near the water.

  ‘This has been so good for them, Mum, thank you.’

  ‘The picnic, or us joining you? I hope you didn’t mind.’

  ‘Absolutely both. Look at them.’ Diana looked in the direction of the girls, heads together, engrossed in some game.

  ‘What do you think about Patrick?’

  ‘Mmm. He said he’d been married before but that was a while ago. Does he bring a lot of women down to Lost Valley?’

  ‘Not that I’ve noticed. He seems to keep the farm a private place, I think. Sean and Marnie and the kids seem to come a lot.’

  Diana yawned.

  ‘If you want to close your eyes for a moment, I can watch the girls.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, really, I think I’m finally beginning to relax a bit.’

  There was silence for a minute or two.

  ‘I got to know Charlie so much better in London, when I came over,’ said Stella. ‘He was a fun person, wasn’t he? It was tragic to lose him so suddenly. But the hurt, missing him like you must be, it gets better. You mightn’t believe me, but it does.’

  Diana looked down where the girls were, fighting the tears. Why now? What could she say? Well, actually, Mum, he wasn’t that much fun that night. And what if it wasn’t an accident that killed Charlie? That would go down a treat.

  They got back to the house without saying any more to each other. A little white Honda was parked at the back steps.

  ‘Rosie’s here,’ Stella said.

  Saskia was out first, having sat on Stella’s lap on the way home. ‘Hello, Rosie,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been on a picnic.’

  ‘So I’ve been hearing.’ Rosie turned furious eyes on Diana as she got out of the ute. ‘I hope you’ve all had a lovely time. It’s been ages since we’ve all been on a picnic. In fact I can’t remember when the last one was. And Mal was there, too. What a treat for you all.’

  ‘Your father and I crashed it, and Mal, well, I asked him to check on Diana … If we only knew you were here … It just evolved, Rosie.’ Stella looked worriedly at Rosie as she came round the back of the ute. ‘Sorry, darling.’

  ‘Things don’t change, do they?’ Rosie stormed off, got in her car and drove away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It had been over twenty years since Diana had been to a clearing sale and it looked exactly as it had when she was a child. The same red sign was fixed to the gate: Auction.

  Forty or fifty cars were parked in straggly lines over the paddock; there must be over a hundred people here. Mal had brought her and the children. He wanted to look at a couple of tractors. Rosie and her mother pla
nned to come over later.

  To Diana’s eyes, the rows and rows of heaped items for sale looked a little more decrepit and a little more useless. Maybe that was because they were the same items she remembered from her childhood. They sure looked the same. Cleverly, each lot held maybe one piece you might conceivably want, lumped together with at least ten you would never, ever have any use for. Milo had set off and thoroughly inspected every single lot and was now playing on the tractors with Sienna and Saskia. There were kids everywhere—running around underfoot, in strollers and prams, and strapped to tummies. If there was any worry about the population numbers in Australia, Diana smiled to herself, all anyone need do was come to a clearing sale to be reassured.

  Wandering over to the tent, where lukewarm coffee in foam cups could be bought for one dollar and a glad-wrapped ham sandwich for just two dollars more, Diana was surprised to hear her name.

  ‘Diana Crawford!’

  A tall, elderly man with a great silver mane of hair emerged through the crowd. He was dressed in an old green corduroy jacket and sported a silk paisley scarf wound around his neck. He was balancing two cups of coffee and two sandwiches in his hands.

  ‘Mr Herschel!’ Diana cried.

  Her old art teacher was smiling widely at her, and the fact that he had his arms full was the only thing stopping her from throwing her arms round him. ‘It’s so good to see you!’

  ‘It’s been too many years, Diana. When did you get back?’

  ‘A month or so.’

  He hesitated. ‘I am so sorry for your loss.’

  When Diana looked blankly at him, he nodded, ‘Rosie told me.’

  Just then, a tiny round woman with white hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head, popped up beside Mr Herschel and rescued one of the coffees from him.

  ‘You haven’t met my wife Una. This is Diana Crawford, one of my best students.’

  Una positively beamed at her and offered her hand. ‘Of course. I’ve heard you’re now a very famous potter.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Diana shook her head. ‘But I am a potter, and that is largely thanks to Mr Herschel.’

  In the distance, Diana caught sight of Patrick. He was talking to Mal. Mal hadn’t said anything about him coming. Not that she’d asked. The conversation in the car this morning had been pretty mundane. Rosie had not been happy about the picnic and Diana couldn’t really blame her. She’d have felt the same way.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She’d missed Una’s last comment.

  ‘Have you anything you’ve got your eye on?’ Una repeated patiently.

  ‘Um, no, I’ve just come to have a look. These are incredible affairs, aren’t they?’

  ‘We wouldn’t miss them for the world,’ said Una. ‘I am a collector of just about anything. Sid didn’t know that when we married, but they say “for better or worse”.’ She smiled mischievously at her husband.

  ‘Diana, I was hoping to see you,’ said Mr Herschel. ‘Have you brought any of your work with you? Would you come to the school to show the children, give some tips and talk to the art class?’

  ‘You are not still teaching!’ Diana couldn’t help her amazement. It was rude, she knew.

  Mr Herschel laughed at her. ‘Goodness, no. But I know the art teacher, very well. I could organise it.’

  ‘Mummy, Mummy!’ Milo ran up and tried to pull her by the hand. ‘Mummy, I’ve found something for Stella. Can I buy it, please?’

  Diana grimaced. ‘Oh no, Milo, we don’t need any of this junk.’

  ‘It’s not junk, Mummy. It’s really beautiful. Please, come quickly.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I must go. I’d be happy to come to the art class, Mr Herschel. I have a couple of things. Ring me. So nice to meet you, Una,’ she added over her shoulder, as she was literally pulled away by a very determined Milo.

  The lot was indistinguishable from all the others. A pile of junk: two faded old Arnott’s Biscuit tins with the signature rosella on the lid; three Fowlers preserving jars without lids; a handful of mismatched cutlery and a double-sided toaster with a very frayed cord. And then she saw it. A large white enamel pitcher with a wide lip, chipped, and with a rusty stain down one side.

  ‘See, Mummy, Stella would love it. She can water her plants with it.’ Milo looked anxiously up at her ‘Can I buy it for her?’

  Diana felt weak. ‘You’ve got to buy the whole lot with it, Milo.’ It was such a lovely thought. Milo had an uncanny ability to hit on the perfect present. He would have worked out Stella could use it for watering the garden, as she spent a huge amount of time recycling water out of the wash tub and the kitchen sink onto the garden. Diana bit her lip and looked around. The small crowd surrounding the auctioneer was still a long way off. It would probably be some hours. Now what was she going to do?

  ‘Hello, Diana.’ Patrick had come up behind them. ‘Hello, Milo.’

  Milo ignored him. He hadn’t taken his eyes from Diana and she knew he wouldn’t until she’d given him an answer.

  ‘Say hello, Milo. All right, you can buy it for Stella. But it will be ages before the auctioneer gets to this lot.’ She turned to Patrick. ‘Hi. I didn’t know you were coming.’ Or why she felt so pleased to see him.

  He was wearing a sleeveless vest, jeans and boots—all spotless. City farmer fashionista. He looked good though.

  ‘I wanted Mal to have a look at a tractor.’

  ‘Have you heard the news?’ Mal was striding up to them. He looked shocked, horrified even. ‘Pete Summers is dead.’

  The Summers were friends of Diana’s parents. Pete was much the same age as her father. They had four boys, and Alan had been the closest in age to her.

  ‘Has he been ill?’ Diana asked.

  ‘No,’ Mal said. ‘It was a shooting accident.’ He paused. ‘He didn’t come in last night and Shelley went out looking for him, found him near a fence. The gun must have gone off when he was getting through the fence, they think.’

  ‘A bit odd,’ said Patrick. ‘Usually you put the safety catch on when you’re climbing through a fence.’

  ‘I know. Not the sort of thing you forget to do, is it?’

  Diana remembered Mal had been a good friend of Alan Summers when they were growing up. ‘How are the boys, and Shelley? She must be devastated. Does Mum know?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Mal. ‘Diana, I’m going to have to go. Alan rang me and asked me to come over. I’m sorry, Patrick, I’ll have to leave. Diana, could you gather the kids?’ He turned to go, not waiting for answers, making his way through the lines of sale items, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets.

  ‘Mum?’ said Milo. ‘I can’t go yet!’ His stubborn little face was set in a look Diana knew only too well.

  ‘We have to go, sweetheart. Mal has to leave right now.’

  ‘Why don’t you stay and I’ll take you all home,’ Patrick interrupted. ‘There’ll be nothing much for you to do about all this. Your parents might want to go with Mal when they hear.’

  Diana thought that might be all too probable. She wished she had a car.

  ‘Mum, please can we stay?’

  She looked at Milo, weighing up her chances of getting him to leave. They weren’t good. ‘Thank you, Patrick, if you’re sure?’

  ‘Certainly, it won’t be a problem.’

  ‘I’ll go tell Mal.’ It would be better if Mal didn’t have to worry about them. ‘Are you coming, Milo?’ Again, a stubborn shake of the head. He was staying put.

  Diana hurried after Mal.

  The news had shot around the sale like wildfire. It seemed everyone knew within minutes. Not long after Mal had left, other cars were winding their way slowly towards the gate, trailed by puffs of dust. Faces were saddened and shocked. Everyone knew and liked Pete Summers.

  ‘Did you know him?’ Diana asked Patrick as they stood beside Milo, who wasn’t moving from his intended purchase.

  ‘Yes, I met him at the saleyards, drafting and counting out. He used to help Tim Spelling.’


  ‘He was such a quiet, nice man. I don’t remember him ever saying anything horrible about anyone. He adored his boys, used to go and watch them play football. My father used to enjoy going with him; he didn’t have any sons to watch.’

  By this time, Sienna had heard Milo was buying the enamel pitcher and she wanted to buy something for Stella, too. Diana rolled her eyes but had to go to inspect all the piles again. Sienna pounced on a faded bunch of artificial flowers.

  ‘Stella would really love these, Mummy, wouldn’t she? We could put them in one of Milo’s jars.’

  ‘But you’ve got to buy all the other things too,’ Diana remonstrated, looking at the broken picture frames and the sad bunch of flowers she was sure her mother would hate. There’d never been artificial flowers in the house, ever.

  ‘We could put pictures of us in the frames for her and she could hang them in the hall too.’

  ‘Oh dear. I don’t think Patrick will have room for us and all this, too.’ One last throw of the dice.

  ‘No, Patrick has a really big car, Mummy.’

  ‘No problem, Diana, there’s plenty of room.’ Patrick had come up behind them. She had a feeling he was enjoying this.

  ‘I wish you would stop saying there’s no problem. What am I going to do with all this?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I certainly wouldn’t be game to tell them no. They’re a determined lot, aren’t they?’ Patrick was smiling. He hunkered down to talk to Sienna. ‘I think Stella will like those very much, Sienna.’ He was rewarded with one of her rare smiles.

  ‘Stella doesn’t have many flowers at the moment,’ she told him shyly, ‘because of the drought.’

  All Diana needed was Saskia wanting a pile too. She didn’t take long. Her offering was a little more obscure. A pile of broken toys that included an under-stuffed, spotted dog lacking an eye.

  ‘No, Saskia.’

  ‘But Mummy, he doesn’t have a home!’ Saskia’s eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in Diana’s stomach.