by Maya Linnell
You can’t get anything right, can you, Jones? You stuffed up the house budget, you made a mess of the business accounts, you can’t even grow a crop without it going pear-shaped, you’ve kept secrets and pushed Angie away. What type of man are you? Until you’ve fixed this mess, you don’t deserve to answer to ‘Dad’.
The old engine took several kicks to turn over, but the sound when it finally caught was a balm for his nerves. He went wide around Ange, unable to look at their daughter stretching her little arms towards him. He took the driveway recklessly and pulled out onto Enderby Lane. Face it, Jones: you’re a stuff-up. Being taken out by a stock truck would be the best outcome for everyone. They’d be better off without you.
Thirty-eight
A chill settled over Angie as Rob tore off down the lane.
She squeezed Claudia a little closer. It was bad enough their daughter had seen them yelling at each other, but for her to go and shove him?
Silent shudders wracked her body as she pondered questions she didn’t want to know the answers to. Where is he going? When will he be back? Surely he’ll come back? Is Alex really mixed up with the feral pigs? Imagine if the roles were reversed, and Rob had shoved me … would I go back to a partner like that?
She heaved Claudia onto her hip and walked towards the garden, craving the comfort of the weeping cherry tree she’d planted in her mother’s memory. The huge weeping cherry at McIntyre Park had always been her safe place, and even though the pigs had damaged the new one, it was still budding with fresh growth. Claudia wriggled down to the ground and Angie found herself following suit. Sprawled on the cool grass for a beat, she wondered if anything would be the same again.
How did we get to this?
‘Cuppa tea, Mummy?’
Angie nodded as she blinked away tears and hauled herself up. She glared at the tractor as they walked back to the cottage, dodging the forks that seemed to clip her shins every time she walked by.
I’ll darn well move the weatherboards myself then, seeing as I’m doing everything around here.
‘Tractor ride, Mummy?’
‘Not you, Claud. Stay with Violet.’
She made sure Claudia was sitting by the dog kennel before starting the tractor. The old Massey Ferguson clunked into gear and she dipped the forks under the pile of weatherboards. A rabbit dashed out from beneath the heap. Violet gave chase, clearing the pond fence in a seamless jump.
Stupid dog, huffed Angie. She swivelled to ensure Claudia hadn’t followed her dog, and spotted Rosa dashing across the yard. Just. Frigging. Perfect.
Had Rosa heard their argument? Was she here to offer advice, or maybe some more cash? ‘For God’s sake,’ Angie muttered under her breath. ‘What’s she after, the accounts so she can take over the whole place?’
Angie pushed her foot on the tractor accelerator, not trusting herself to speak to Rosa in this mood. She bit her bottom lip as she drove between the chook house and the ruined garden beds, ignoring Rosa’s waving arms.
When will this woman stop meddling?
A screech sounded and Angie gasped as the forkful of weatherboards clipped the chimney.
As if in slow motion, the brick chimney wobbled one way, then the other, before crumbling like a stack of Jenga blocks.
Rosa’s screams filled the air. Her legs and hips had been swallowed by the chimney rubble. Angie flew off the tractor and raced across to the pile of bricks, flinging pieces of the chimney over her shoulder to take the weight off Rosa’s half-buried body. Angie heard sobbing behind her and a teary Claudia tried to slip into her arms.
‘Stay there, Claud. I need to help Granny.’
She tossed the rubble across the chook yard, desperate to shift the pile. So many bricks. Claudia’s wails escalated and the chickens rushed out through the broken fences.
It felt like an eternity until she could see all of Rosa’s body again, and the sight of her pained face was enough to make Angie toss the last few bricks twice as fast. She pushed Rosa’s long dark hair away from her face.
Angie murmured urgently. ‘Rosa? Rosa, are you okay?’
Act fast, Angie. Hurry.
‘Stay here, Claud. I’ll get help.’
As if sensing her mother’s distress, Claudia quickly complied with the order to stay with her granny until Angie returned.
Angie cast one last anxious look at the pair before racing across the paddock. A rustling came from the long grass in front of her. A feral pig? She darted to the left, landing heavily on one leg as a familiar black-and-tan head popped up. Violet took a few steps towards her, dragging her back leg, before collapsing.
Had she been hit by the bricks too? Angie’s guilt compounded as she ran past the injured pup. I’m coming back, Violet, I promise.
Guilt, urgency, adrenaline, panic and pain fuelled her mad dash for help. Angie’s breath came hard and fast as she clambered over the fence. Her skirt caught on the barbed wire. She tugged the fabric hard and with a rip was free to keep sprinting towards the dairy.
Max and John turned in surprise as she raced in.
She cried out to be heard over the sound of the radio and milking machinery.
‘John … Rosa … help … hurry.’
Thirty-nine
Rob tossed tiny red rocks into the volcano crater, wishing it hadn’t been dormant for the last 6500 years. Throwing himself into a seething mass of molten lava didn’t sound any more appealing than being skittled by a stock truck, but at least Claudia would have a better story about why her father had bombed out of her life.
Claudia. He’d rather drink engine oil than miss another day with her, but he was no good to them. How had he messed up so badly?
Rob picked up a stick and ditched it into the void.
Man up, Jones. You can’t give Ange and Claudia half of what they need.
He coughed, trying to unclog his throat, and his thoughts. Had he been so hell-bent on proving he could handle it all—the renos, the bookwork, the business—that he’d lost perspective?
What’s more important, Jones? Getting a tick of approval from your dad—or at the very least proving him wrong about the cottage, showing Alex Richardson up as the scumbag he is, or making it up to Angie?
He turned at a noise in the bushes and saw a family of emus emerge from the scrub. The adult emu fixed him with her beady brown eyes, snapping her beak as the cream-and-brown-striped chicks skittered across the walking track.
It’s a him, not a her, Rob corrected himself as the two-metre-tall bird steered his young in the opposite direction. Rob thought of Claudia, how he loved every inch of her, from her glittery gumboots and sharp choppers to her curly hair.
He watched the emu walk away, the sole carer for the brood of chicks, and knew he didn’t want that for his family. If he didn’t pull his head out of his arse and fix things, he realised he’d regret it with every day that dawned.
Forty
Rosa lay on her side, with a cut on her chin that wouldn’t stop bleeding no matter how much pressure Angie applied. Gone were her enthusiasm, her quick smile, her determination, her vitality.
‘What’s taking the ambos so long? It’s only five kilometres to the hospital. Surely it’s not rush hour in Port Fairview?’ said Angie.
John clutched his wife’s hand. His brow furrowed as Rosa winced again.
‘Should’ve driven her in myself. Woulda been quicker,’ John said, scanning Enderby Lane again.
‘We only just called, give them a second or two.’ Max pulled the blanket up higher around his mother’s shoulders.
‘I’m fine,’ whispered Rosa. Her eyes were still squeezed shut but she couldn’t hide the pain in her voice. ‘Don’t get any blood on that blanket. I spent hours hand-quilting it.’
Angie stared numbly at the embroidered birds and sheep on the blanket that normally lived in Claudia’s pram. Claudia must have pulled it over her grandmother when Angie went to fetch help. The pale fabrics against Rosa’s wan complexion made her look more vulnerable
.
‘I’ll soak the blanket, I promise,’ said Angie, turning her attention to Claudia and Violet. The dog’s hind leg was matted with blood, and Violet barely lifted her head from Claudia’s lap when the little girl stroked her fur.
Stupid idiot. Look what you’ve done. Driven Rob away, nearly killed his mother, and his dog, and now you’re crouched here, as useful as a stunned mullet.
But as much as she urged herself to do something productive, something to atone for her mistakes, Angie could only stay rooted to the spot until the ambulance crunched along the driveway gravel. The paramedics assessed Rosa swiftly and prepped her for transport.
‘We’ll see you at the hospital, Rosa,’ said John, flinching at his wife’s hoarse yell as she was bundled onto the stretcher.
‘John! Come with me.’
‘One extra’s fine by us,’ said the paramedic, ‘long as you’re happy to give up your seat if we’re called to another accident between here and the hospital.’
John nodded, quickly unbuttoned his green overalls, wiped his workboots on the grass and climbed in beside the stretcher.
‘Angie …’ Rosa called out as the paramedic went to close the door. ‘Rob’s a good man, Angie. Go find him. Please.’
Angie watched the ambulance drive away. Only an hour ago she’d wanted to cut Rob’s mother from her life and now she wanted to hold her close. Her brain struggled with a tangle of guilt and shock.
Max’s voice cut into her turbid thoughts.
Angie stared blankly as Max repeated his question, gesturing to the dairy for added effect.
‘I’ve got to finish milking. Are you all right to follow Dad in?’
She hesitated for a second, agreeing without meeting Max’s eye, or glancing at the cottage that had been supposed to bring her and Rob together, not rip them apart.
‘Hey, did Rob tell you about the pigs? Seems Alex was luring in new clients with under-the-table perks. Poaching and illegal hunts were just the tip of the iceberg. He’s going to be slapped with a big fine.’
Her tears fell into Claudia’s hair as she carried her to the car.
Rob was a good man. She knew it, of course she did, but where would they go from here? How was he going to react when he learned she’d put his mum in hospital?
She tried his phone. Straight to message bank.
Forty-one
The bundle of fur quivered on the front seat as Angie rounded the corner to the veterinary clinic. A ripe smell wafted across the small cab each time Violet half-heartedly wagged her tail.
Angie let out a sigh, relinquishing her grip on the steering wheel to stroke the pup. The gesture soothed them both and she kept her hand there until they arrived at the clinic. She strapped a lead onto the purple collar and held out a hand.
‘Stay, Violet. I’ll come round and lift—’
Violet jumped up and tried to hobble across the seat, making it half a step before she collapsed. Angie leaned in to pick her up, trying to avoid touching the bloodied tangle of fur.
‘Let’s get you seen to before you injure yourself further. Wait there, Claud, I’ll be back in a minute.’
Angie carried the dog to the vet clinic, but instead of opening automatically, the doors remained steadfastly shut. Angie stepped back then squinted to read the messily handwritten sign through the tinted glass.
Angie looked at her watch. The vet was out, and she had no idea where to find the Warrnambool vet clinics. Maybe Bobbi can watch Violet for a while, then take her in for me?
Angie carried Violet back to the car and drove straight to Bobbi’s house.
The sprinkler system had created a dark arc across the driveway, watering more of the asphalt than the perfectly manicured hedges and front lawn. Angie scooped up the dog and rapped on their door.
A combination of air fresheners and perfume rushed out onto the doorstep, as artificial as it was sweet, when Bobbi swung the large door open.
‘God, what’s that smell?’ said Bobbi, wrinkling her nose.
‘I need to get to the hospital. Can you please hang on to Violet for an hour and take her to the vet when they reopen?’ She stretched her arms out, proffering the bundle of fur.
Bobbi took a step backwards, the green smoothie in her hand tilting dangerously close to her white singlet. ‘I don’t think …’ Bobbi tapped a finger to her glossy lips. ‘I don’t do animals, Angie. I don’t even let the boys eat in my car, let alone put a dog in there … I’ve got a flat tyre anyway and I’m not driving Alex’s old rust bucket again. Bloody manual.’
Angie was so stunned she didn’t reply.
‘Your dress! All your hard work losing weight! You finally fit into it and now it’s ruined.’
Angie tugged at the torn floral fabric, remembering that Bobbi had been the one who insisted she buy the extravagant item. Angie had liked how it skimmed over her curves, found a daintiness in the way the tiny pink and white flowers floated in the sea of green. But watching her friend worry about a dress instead of an injured animal made her feel like ripping the dress off and throwing it at Bobbi’s manicured toes. Rob’s words rang in her mind.
The pup whimpered.
‘Are you really telling me you can’t do this?’
Bobbi hesitated a moment before setting her glass down on a hall table, next to a framed family photograph. Angie had admired the photo before, taken when Oscar was a newborn; the ideal little family, the picture-perfect smiles, Jayden and Alex with freshly cut hair, all dressed in white. Clarity settled on Angie as she took in the perfect outfits, their wrinkle-free shirts and the soft photoshopped glow over the whole photo. She didn’t need to get closer to know that Jayden looked like a cardboard cut-out, a far contrast from the way she normally saw him, splashing in muddy puddles with Claudia at the building site, the size of their smiles directly equivalent to the amount of dirt on their hands as they moulded mud pies together.
‘Rob was around here earlier, ranting about those wild pigs. After all we’ve done for you guys, you couldn’t even turn a blind eye to a little harmless fun for Alex’s clients?’
Angie backed away.
‘It wasn’t harmless, it wrecked our best crop. God knows what damage a bunch of gung-ho shooters would’ve done. I was only a project for you, wasn’t I? You’re trying to fix me up, like we’re fixing the cottage.’ She spun on her heel, marching back to her car.
‘God, Angie, I am your friend. Haven’t I helped you crawl out from the brown and beige hole you were hiding in? Didn’t I liberate you from those elastic-waisted jeans? Who texted you at 5 a.m. to remind you about our runs? I did it for you, Angie. Let’s face it, you need someone to steer you in the right direction, or you’ll spend your whole life getting dragged along in the current. With a bit of luck, the new and improved you will rub off on Claudia too, and she can bypass the awkward ugly-duckling stage you seem to have been stuck in for so long.’
The mention of Claudia was like a shot across the bow. Angie was tempted to upend the green smoothie over Bobbi’s sleek hair. ‘I was fine until you came into my life and insisted I needed fixing. Rob, Claudia and I were happy, content.’
Bobbi laughed sharply. ‘Is that what you call it? You’re like I used to be, Angie, you need someone to help you find your feet. And then, one day you’ll pay it forward too.’
‘I’m nothing like you,’ Angie spluttered. ‘I wouldn’t presume to know what was best for my friends, or take them on as a project. I wouldn’t try and bribe friends into covering up illegal activity. And I sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to help an injured animal.’
She turned and hurried back to the car.
Bobbi’s voice called after her. ‘Fine, go back to eating all those biscuits and cakes, and telling yourself you’re setting a good example for your daughter. Turn your crappy old cottage into a dinky little—’
Angie spun around and held up a hand, cutting Bobbi off mid-sentence. ‘Stop right there. Forget I even asked for help. You’re not the person I thought you wer
e.’
Forty-two
Rob threw the bike around corners, suddenly eager to get home, but his optimism faltered as he pulled into the driveway. Ange’s car was gone, the shed was empty, and the caravan was empty too.
What do you expect, Jones? A hot lunch waiting on the table and a ‘Welcome home’ banner?
Rob plugged his lifeless phone into a charger and strode to the cottage, his mind fixed firmly on the job at hand. Might not be able to put the apology part into play just yet, but I’ve sorted the money, I’ve cracked the feral pigs problem and I can start on the next step. Quicker I get this bathroom tiling underway, the quicker I’ll be done with it.
Rob forced himself to consider whether Angie had been right about his dad. Had John praised both him and Max equally, but never within their earshot? Max had made it sound like he’d been on the receiving end of John’s criticisms too, instead of basking in a golden-child status like Rob remembered. Did I blow it out of proportion?
He mixed up a bucket of tile glue and thought about the way Max had helped him with the pigs, refining the video footage and scouring the scrub until they had enough evidence to nail Alex.
Haven’t I just done the exact same thing as Max? Hidden the truth about money and then lied about it?
He measured and cut the first tile, swearing when it broke. He lined up a second one. I didn’t run all the way to South America, but still …
He recalled the look Angie had given him when he’d ridden off.
Rob gritted his teeth and kept working. Only a quarter of the bathroom floor was tiled by the time he finished his bucket of glue, but at least it was a start. Apart from the memories it evoked, the gig wasn’t quite as bad as he remembered.
What else had he forgotten over the years? And how could he expect Angie to accept his apologies when he was still too stubborn to accept Max’s?
Angie drove distractedly. Bobbi’s surprising rebuke, her own role in the chimney accident and Rob’s sudden departure played on loop as she raced toward Warrnambool. At least Tessa had been more than willing to take the dog to the vet, and had given Angie a sympathetic hug and pep talk before she left Port Fairview.