by Maya Linnell
Angie’s phone vibrated on the passenger seat. She took her eye off the road to switch the call to speakerphone and nestled the phone in her bra. Last thing she needed was a fine for handling her phone while driving.
‘Hey Angie, I just got your message. You okay? How’s Rosa?’ said Lara.
Angie flicked on her indicator and drove through the industrial estate towards Warrnambool’s medical hub.
‘I’m almost at the hospital.’
A motorcycle hurtled into Angie’s rear-view mirror, the rider gaining on her as the bike weaved in and out of traffic.
Rob?
The bike screamed past—its speed, high-pitched engine and plastic fairings so different to Rob’s vintage machines.
‘How’s Rob holding up?’
Angie’s voice caught in her throat. ‘We had an argument right before the accident, and he stormed out.’ Angie let out a breath. ‘I was so mad …’
Even though Lara was the least likely of her sisters to pry, Angie felt a sudden need to blurt out everything.
‘I think we’re done,’ Angie said, the car jolting as she overshot the parking space and mounted the kerb.
‘Maybe, maybe not. Do you really want it to be over?’
Angie leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Lara’s question sounded so simple, as if she could either overlook the gaping holes in their relationship or not.
‘I don’t see how we can come back from this. He didn’t tell me about the money problems, didn’t listen to me about the pigs or that damn chimney. You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Lara. It was like … like he’d already made the break in his mind. Like I was already dead to him.’
‘It’s been a pressure cooker for you both though, hasn’t it? His business, his brother, his mother, your dieting campaign, your friend Bobbi. I didn’t see the way he looked at you today, but I saw how much he loved you at Christmas—it was like you accepting his quirky proposal made him the luckiest guy in the district.’
Tears pricked Angie’s eyes. ‘If Rob had listened to me from the start, the chimney wouldn’t have come crashing down around us. What if it had been Claudia? What if the chimney had collapsed onto her? What if Rosa dies and it’s all my fault?’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as she twisted her engagement ring.
Lara’s tone was unusually gentle when she answered. ‘But it didn’t collapse on Claudia. Rosa’s a tough old duck. And I bet Rob will wish he’d listened to you too. I’m not a poster girl for happy relationships, God knows I haven’t even thought about letting another man into my life since Sam, but I know you, Angie. And I think you need to work out how bad you want it. Is being right reason enough to walk away from everything you’ve created together? I can tell you’ve poured a lot of love, sweat and tears into that little cottage. If you ignore what I’ve said, that’ll be completely fine too, because I’m your grumpy old sister, not a romance guru. But if it’s any consolation, I think you two are good together, Ange.’
Angie signed off from the phone call, Lara’s words resonating with each step she took towards the hospital.
Forty-three
Angie and Claudia rushed through the rabbit warren of hospital corridors, dodging visitors and doctors as they tracked down Rosa’s room. Claudia launched herself into John’s arms as soon as they found the right door, and Angie felt a renewed pang of guilt at the sight of Rosa.
Angie walked to her side, taking in the IV drip, the bandage around her head and the cords trailing out from under the sheets. Despite the dried blood and swelling across her face and upper arms, Rosa’s expression was calm.
‘Morphine’s working a treat,’ said John, clearing his throat. ‘Doc found a pelvic fracture. Stable thankfully, or else they’d be airlifting her to Melbourne. The scan ruled out internal bleeding too, so she’s had a lucky escape. Just the fracture, a broken leg and a few scratches.’
‘A lucky escape?’ Angie’s words came out in a gasp. She squeezed her fingernails into her palm. ‘I wish I’d never jumped on that tractor, wish I hadn’t flown off the handle. You were almost killed, Rosa! I don’t even know where Rob is to tell him, what to tell him …’ Angie’s breath caught in her throat. ‘And I’m terrified it’s too late.’
Rosa beckoned her closer. Angie felt the older woman clasp her fingers, even though the effort made Rosa wince. ‘It’s never too late, Angie. Not if you think you can make it work. John always tells me not to meddle, but I …’ Rosa grimaced again. ‘I thought I was helping.’
Angie squeezed her eyes closed before looking Rosa straight in the eye. ‘I’m the one who should be apologising, Rosa. I’m so sorry.’
A nurse streamed into the room, flinging back the curtain that divided Rosa from the four other patients, her sense of purpose at odds with Angie’s inertia.
What should I do? Rob was wrong to keep secrets. Rosa was wrong to interfere. But I was wrong too, holding Bobbi up on a pedestal, constantly comparing Rosa to Mum … and I’m the one who nearly killed somebody.
‘How’re your pain levels after that scan, Mrs Jones? Are you right for me to check your vitals?’
Angie tucked Claudia against her body as they watched the nurse clip a monitor onto Rosa’s finger.
‘Oxygen saturations and heart rate is on the improve, Mrs Jones. So, why were you dicing with a pile of bricks? The ambo said they toppled straight down on top of you. Lucky they didn’t knock your head clean off your shoulders,’ she said.
‘Guess I just can’t stay out of trouble,’ Rosa said, with a small smile.
‘Lucky it was a single fracture, not a double. A little bit of rest, a few days of analgesia and you’ll be trotting around before you know it. Recovery will take a few months, but it’s much better than multiple surgeries.’
Rosa’s joke, and the nurse’s sympathetic small talk, made Angie feel even worse.
This is my doing.
Angie smoothed Rosa’s blankets.
John’s brusque voice cut through the silence. ‘A little birdie told me your interfering mother-in-law will be in hospital for a while, so maybe now’s as good a time as ever to patch things up with Rob. I know he used to head up to Tower Hill for long hard thinks when he was in high school. Claudia can stay with us for a while if you want to go for a look?’
Angie nodded gratefully at John. She grabbed her keys; she had a chance to set things right.
Forty-four
Rob pulled the charging lead from his phone, staring at the multitude of missed calls and voicemail alerts.
Angie? Dad? Max … Why was Max calling him, had he found more dirt on Alex Richardson?
He listened to the voicemails.
An accident.
The tractor.
The chimney.
Angie’s garbled message played over in Rob’s head as he raced around the back of the cottage, horrified to see a pile of rubble where the chimney and the chook house had once been. How had he missed that when he arrived home earlier?
Everything Angie had feared had come true. The pigs and now the chimney.
Rob averted his eyes as he ran past the cottage. Its perfect exterior seemed to mock him: he’d nearly pulled it off and then dropped the bundle at the last minute. He mightn’t have been driving the tractor that brought the chimney down, but he was as responsible for his mum’s broken bones as he was for his ruined relationship.
Forty-five
The drab grey walls and the stuffy air-conditioned rooms did little to ease Rob’s pounding headache as he hovered by his mother’s bedside. Rosa’s arms were covered in cords and bandages, yet her voice was laden with concern for him as she spoke.
‘Angie’s out looking for you, Rob. Go find her. I’m fine here.’
‘Fine? I wouldn’t call a broken leg and a fractured pelvis fine. I made a mess of everything, Mum. I never thought the chimney would collapse, or believed the rumours about feral pigs. I thought I was doing the right thing insulating Angie from all the money stuff …’
Rob felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his dad standing beside him.
‘No one expected you to have a crystal ball, son. Your mum’s not going anywhere. So get out there, find Angie and settle this before it gets any worse. Sometimes words left unsaid can be just as harmful as things you wish you hadn’t said.’
Rob scanned his father’s weary face. He’d never heard him speak this way before. His mum had always been an open book, worrying about sibling rivalry, bending over backwards with helpfulness and enthusiasm, but not his dad.
The curtain divider fluttered open and Claudia rushed in, followed closely by Max.
‘Daddy!’
His heart hitched as she flung herself into his arms. He swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, looking from Claudia to his mum, feeling the weight of his father’s gaze and Max’s proximity. Max always used to know what he was thinking, how he was feeling—could he feel it now?
Rob rose slowly then scooped Claudia onto his shoulders. ‘Let’s go find your mum, Claud.’
Max cleared his throat. ‘I’ll take her home if you don’t want an audience? I brought Mum’s car and the baby seat’s still in the back ’
Rob bit back the automatic rebuff—his instinct to scorn his brother’s olive branch, as he’d done so many times before. He looked back at their mum, so fragile in the hospital bed. Her nod was tiny, but he knew what she was saying.
How can I ask Ange to forgive me if I can’t do the same for Max?
Rob exhaled slowly and lowered Claudia to the ground.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled, giving Max a nod, before realising the non-committal nod was one of his father’s biggest cop-outs. Rob held out his hand. It felt like an eon passed as he waited for Max to shake it, but when he did, his brother’s grip was strong, and Max’s brief smile offered something Rob hadn’t known he’d been seeking until then.
He kissed Rosa’s forehead gently and almost gave his father another nod.
Bugger it. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, sticking out his hand.
His dad’s handshake was strong, but his red-rimmed eyes were soft. ‘Go get her, Rob.’
Forty-six
Rob flicked the kickstand down and leaped off the motorbike, his boots crunching on the gravel as he took the steps to the Tower Hill lookout two at a time.
Tourists clogged the uphill track, stopping to pose for photos with the spectacular wetlands. On this day of all days, the heritage-listed site seemed to be experiencing a flush of tourism. He weaved through the dawdling hikers and sightseers, breathless by the time he reached the top.
Blood thumped in Rob’s ears as he scanned the site for Angie.
I’m too late.
The disappointment was crushing. He lowered himself to a bench and rested his head in his hands, remembering the way they had parted. Of course it was over.
A cream-and-brown fuzz veered into his line of vision and he spotted one of the emu chicks marching across the path, looking as lost as he felt.
Another noise came from the bushes and Angie stepped out of the shrubs, twigs and wattle blossoms sticking to her dress and her hair. Her forehead was slick with sweat and there were dark patches on her flowery dress.
Blood? Sweat? His eyes flew over her, searching for any signs of injury, but all he could see was a rip in the fabric, exposing a pale but unscathed knee, and a small cut on her leg. He let out a quick breath. It was bad enough Rosa had been injured; he didn’t know if his conscience could handle any more collateral damage.
He allowed himself another look at her face, finding not anger but relief in her bloodshot eyes.
‘Cheeky emu chick wandered off. I was trying to shoo it back to the mother, but now she’s gone off in a flap,’ Angie said uncertainly, pulling a twig from her hair.
‘It’s actually the father. Emu fathers incubate the eggs and raise the chicks …’ said Rob, trailing off.
Kookaburras sang in the trees as they watched the chick fossick in the dirt. A group of tourists came and went. All the while Rob steeled himself for a final goodbye. But instead, after a moment Angie sat down beside him.
He took a deep breath. ‘You were right, you know. I should have listened to you, Ange, should have noticed the trajectory I set us on with the budgets. You were always so good at handling your salon accounts, I wanted to show you that I could be that guy too. I was so scared you’d drop me like a hot potato if you knew about the business Max and I lost before we’d even started it.’ Why did I ever think I could keep secrets in a town as small as Port Fairview?
‘And the chimney. You were right about the chimney and the pigs, too.’
Angie’s arm was warm against his. The smile she gave him was weak, but in that moment, he knew the notion he could walk away from this woman was the stupidest idea he’d had all year.
He paused, trying to choose the words to set things right. ‘Ange McIntyre, I love you more than anything in this world. I know I’ve messed things up, but if you forgive me, I’ll fix things, I swear.’
Angie kept her eyes on the water at the base of the crater as she spoke.
‘I need to know you trust me, that you’ve got my back. I’m not perfect either, blind Freddy could see that, but it hurts being at the bottom of your priority list, somewhere below your mum and your motorbikes.’
Rob started to say something, then stopped. He cleared his throat, reaching into the top pocket of his jacket. He passed her the cheque he’d collected earlier.
Was it really just this morning? It feels like a week ago now.
‘I’ve sold the bikes. There’s a collector over in Linton who’s been hassling me for years about buying them. Money should cover the rest of the renovations, and pay back Mum and Dad. And Brett said he’ll take Violet, train her up and give us a bit of breathing space until we’ve got time for a dog. The goats can go on Gumtree. Hell, we can get rid of the calves and chickens if you want. I’m sorting this thing out with Max too.’
Rob held his breath as Angie pushed herself up from the seat, dusted the dirt off her backside and walked over to the lookout platform. He stood too, hanging back. Was it too little, too late? Sweat slicked the inside of his shirt, his jacket trapping the heat like a sauna. He stared at the volcano shell but instead saw the wasteland of his future.
You’re a stuff-up, Jones. A failure.
The wind blew straight across from the Southern Ocean.
A plane flew overhead and a chorus of crickets and frogs erupted in the scrub below, but all Rob could hear was the silent weight of his relationship, teetering on a knife’s edge.
Angie stared down into the volcano crater, grappling with her emotions. The wind had whipped up, and the sound of trucks on the highway below mingled with bird calls and rustling leaves.
Didn’t you come here to apologise? Tell him you were wrong too. Lara’s encouragement echoed in her ear.
But what if I change my mind again? What if I’ve already ruined it? She turned and took a step. Then another, blocking out the self-doubt telling her she wasn’t good enough.
The closer she got to Rob, the harder she had to work to ignore her doubts. I will stick this out. We are good together. We can make this work.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and Angie hesitated, hoping it would be the vet with news on Violet, or John with an update on Rosa.
‘Angela, glad to catch you. The dahlia committee is holding an extra meeting—’
Angie’s eyes locked with Rob’s and she grimaced. ‘Mrs Ellis, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back later.’
Mrs Ellis tutted down the phone line. ‘But Angela, you need to come and fix this mess! The dahlia show is next week and I don’t think—’
But instead of filling her with a sense of dread, the disapproving tone propelled Angie to do something she should have done months earlier. ‘Not now, Mrs Ellis. I’m busy.’
She hung up the phone, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders, and walked towards Rob.
&nb
sp; Forty-seven
‘I’m so, so sorry for hurting your mum. If I could turn back the clock, I’d never have been so reckless … So … So stupid. It wasn’t just you, Rob—I was wrong too. I thought if we could get the cottage renovated, that’d be it—we’d have the little family unit I’d always dreamed of, but it became easier to sink my energy into something I could control.’
Rob held his breath, not daring to interrupt. Angie’s voice was soft and although Rob strained to hear over the birds and the breeze, her words gave him hope.
‘The running, the diet, the new clothes. They were easy wins compared to getting the cottage finished, even though I fell off the bandwagon a few times. Bobbi seemed like the type of woman I could be if I knuckled down. Strong, fit, fearless.’ Angie bowed her head. ‘I went to see her. She didn’t even try and deny the pig thing.’
He could see from her face how much it hurt her to tell him about her row with Bobbi. Part of him wanted to cheer; the other part wanted to draw Ange into his arms, tell her she shouldn’t have had to put up with it in the first place.
‘I’m sorry. I think we’ve both messed up. But …’ She tripped over her words just as he had.
He stepped closer. ‘I need to take the lion’s share of the blame.’
She looked up, her eyes searching his, and he saw a hint of the McIntyre determination, the strength she didn’t even seem to realise she had.
‘No, I need to say this. I was wrong, too. I love you, Rob Jones. I can’t imagine my life—our life—without you. Let’s give it another crack. No third umpires for arguments, no secrets. And Violet can stay. Imagine all the snakes we’d get without her around.’
Relief rushed through his body and a smile twitched at his lips as he took in his beautiful fiancée.
The adult emu stalked back into the clearing, gathered up the wayward chick and hurried away again as another group of camera-wielding hikers appeared.