by Sarah Barrie
A humming sound caught her attention. She went to the lounge room window and saw Ned riding around on a large green mower, tidying the lawns that formed the paths between the areas of garden. The scent of freshly mown grass drifted into the house. He glanced up and caught her eye, waved. She lifted a hand in return, then when he cut the engine and climbed off, realised he was coming to see her.
‘Shit …’ She made a mad dash into the bedroom and pulled on some jeans and a jumper, dragged her fingers through her hair to tidy it and by the time she was done he was knocking on her door.
‘Ned. Good morning. How are you?’
‘Good. Just getting Dad’s lawns done early. Need to get back to work.’ His eyes roamed her face. ‘Hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘No, it’s fine. I was just about to make coffee. Would you like one?’
‘Love one. If Paisley’s left one of those travel cups around, I’ll take it with me.’
‘I’m pretty sure she has a collection of them. Come in.’
He stepped past her and she closed the door against the wind. ‘Warmer in here,’ he commented. ‘It’s clearer this morning and a few degrees colder with it.’
‘Colder again?’ She got the coffee started then added some logs to the fireplace and stirred it back to life.
‘I’ve got this,’ Ned said, taking over. ‘You worry about the coffee.’
‘How do you like it?’
‘White and two, thanks. Thought you might have called, with Paisley away and no one to talk to.’
‘Actually, Tess Atherton came around yesterday,’ she replied brightly. ‘She’s lovely.’
‘Yeah, she’s nice enough all right, for one of the bosses. Good horse rider. You like riding?’
‘I do. I had a sweet old grey pony as a kid. Haven’t been on a horse for a long time though.’
‘A pony? Guess you had a good childhood then?’
Ponies equalled good childhoods? They certainly didn’t hurt. But nor did they make up for … other things. ‘Sure. Not bad. It was just me and Dad.’
‘No mum, then. Guess that was difficult.’
‘We were all in a car accident when I was very young,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I don’t remember much, but Mum didn’t make it.’
‘I see. Well, we’ll have to organise a ride. Pick a day and I’ll take you out on the trails.’
She smiled and handed him his coffee. ‘One day, perhaps.’
‘Thanks for this.’ He took it in one hand, then reached out with the other and touched her hair.
She jerked back. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Huh? Oh.’ He dropped his hand. ‘Just wanted to know if it was a wig. You used to have lots of red hair.’
‘Not anymore,’ she said, slightly rattled.
‘Shame. Want me to come back tonight? Break up the boredom of being alone?’ he asked with a look that had warning lights flashing behind Callie’s eyes. Hell, surely he couldn’t think she was interested in him? Shit. ‘I’m, ah … actually heading out to help Tess with some gardening today, so I’ll probably be up for an early night.’
‘Just a thought.’ He opened the door and a cold blast of air swirled into the cottage. ‘Got some more firewood for ya. I’ll stick it round with the rest when I’m done.’
‘I appreciate it,’ she said a little brusquely. ‘Thanks, Ned.’
‘No problem.’ He closed the door behind him and she went to the window, watching him walk back over to the mower.
What was that? It was going to be awkward if Ned was harbouring those kinds of ideas. She braided her hair and tucked the short plait up under the same dark green cap she’d pulled over her head when escaping her home the night she’d fled with Paisley. She added some light makeup and sunglasses and took a deep breath. No, no one was going to recognise her. More eager than ever to get away for a while, Callie dashed to the car and instructed the GPS to take her to Calico Mountain.
* * *
‘Fence maintenance is one of the biggest and most important jobs you’ll have as a farm hand,’ Connor told the group while Logan watched. The men were standing close by, holding their horses while three cattle dogs raced around them in playful circles, occasionally crashing into each other or dropping to roll madly in the long grass. The horses were too busy tearing at the ryegrass and chewing greedily to worry about the dogs’ antics. Logan and Connor had agreed the men should ride the horses out, get as much time in the saddle as possible. A lot of horse work was being replaced by machines these days, but they still needed to be able to ride.
‘Fences get old, worn out, and livestock love to test them. They’ll use them as scratching posts, push their heads through to find feed and if they get a good enough fright, they’ll just run right through them. You need to be handy at building them, spotting weaknesses and keeping them in good order. Ned, our stockman, was out here yesterday, patched up this hole a couple of cows had made. He noticed the posts were getting rotten, so we’re going to replace this stretch right back to the corner posts.’
‘Can’t even see the corner post,’ Travis commented.
‘You will by the time we get to the end of this,’ Connor promised. ‘Over the years we’ve been replacing wooden posts with steel. That’s what we’re using today. Makes the process a bit more involved and costly, but they’ll last indefinitely, saving time and money down the track. Logan’s going to use the bobcat to pull out the old fence posts. It also has an attachment for digging the holes for the new posts. You’re all going to end up with certification to operate a range of farm machinery, but for now, all you’re going to need is a decent pair of gloves and some wire cutters. First, you need to untack your horses and let them graze for the day.’
‘Won’t they run off?’ Orson asked.
‘Where to?’ Logan asked. ‘They’ve got grass, shade, water and each other right here. They’re not heading off into thick scrub where we’re fencing unless you give them a good reason to. They might run down the hill a bit, that’s about as bad as it’ll get. And they’re used to the sound of a rattling bucket of oats. Brings them back—most times,’ he added with a grin.
‘So, untack and get your gloves on, gentlemen. We’ve got a good kilometre of fencing to get done.’
Connor assisted with the horses, showing the men what to do. They’d work through the day, make as much progress as they could. Then he’d leave it as it was—let the group work on the fence for a few hours each week and see it through to completion. Fencing could be a bitch of a job, but it was one of the few jobs they’d do with a tangible outcome in the time they were here. He didn’t need the paddock until summer and it would give the men a sense of satisfaction—hopefully—to see the finished product, knowing they’d done it.
‘You coming?’ he called to Orson. ‘Or planning on standing there dreaming all day?’
‘Yeah.’ Orson stopped staring at his surroundings and pulled on his gloves.
‘We need to cut this wire away from the fence posts.’
‘No worries. Where’s it going?’
‘We’ll bundle it into piles for Logan to push together when he’s got the posts out. Like Ned is doing with the other boys further along.’
‘Got it.’
They worked quietly for a while, with Orson shooting the occasional glance into the thick tangle of gum trees and scrub beyond the fence line.
‘Something bothering you?’ Connor asked eventually.
‘What’s on the other side of all this bushland?’ Orson asked.
‘More of the same. It’s national park. Why?’
Orson shrugged. ‘Just wondering. Any trails?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Any reason anyone would be out there?’
Connor stopped working when he sensed concern in Orson’s tone. ‘We have some access gates for hikers staying at the guesthouse, so it’s possible we get tourists out on the trails back here. That’s about it. Why?’
The stomping of boots coming quickly through th
e bush had Orson bolting from the fence line to pick up a large branch and wield it like a weapon. He waited, tense.
Matty pushed through the low branches of an acacia, got snagged, untangled himself then stopped dead at the sight of Orson. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
‘What were you doing?’ Orson demanded.
‘A piss, mate.’
Orson dropped the branch, his body sagging. ‘Shit, man.’
Connor relaxed, hadn’t realised how tense he’d also become in those few seconds. ‘You okay?’ he asked Orson.
‘Yep.’
‘Serious reaction.’
‘Just can’t be too careful.’
‘You’re going to have to settle down,’ Connor said, getting back on task. ‘You’ll hear lots of noises in the bush. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred it’s going to be animals.’
‘It’s an animal I’m worried about.’ Without further explanation, Orson moved ahead to work further up the fence line.
* * *
Callie’s first glimpse of Calico Mountain had her gasping in appreciation. She’d driven out of pretty bushland and over a pebble creek via a low wooden bridge. Beyond the creek, long stretches of green paddocks led to a sprawling timber guesthouse, all red wood and glass and wide verandas against a backdrop of mountains still littered with bright splashes of colour that could only be from maples. She wondered just how much more spectacular they would have been in early autumn. She continued along the drive between dark post-and-rail fences, past the large circular drop-off area in front of the main building and followed a sign to guest parking. From what she could see, the sprawling beds of winding gardens already established had been moulded many years past by an expert hand.
With her fingers on the car door her nerves once again invaded her excitement. She checked her appearance in the rear-vision mirror. She looked different. Very different, she reminded herself. She looked around again, twisting in her seat to get a better idea of her surroundings. In front and to the right of the guesthouse were those cleverly planted gardens. To the left, where the drive continued to who knew where, there was a scattering of trees and bare organically shaped garden beds curved through an area still partially shaded in places by huge pine trees and gorgeous red and orange maples and golden elms. Set further off the roadside were pallets of plants and trees and large piles of mulch and manure. A couple of wheelbarrows sat loaded with tools. An impressive worksite and … yes, perhaps a little overwhelming, at least for someone who might not enjoy it quite as much as Callie knew she would.
Then she spotted Tess. Renewed enthusiasm had Callie getting out of the car and walking briskly in her direction. ‘Morning!’ she called.
Tess straightened from where she was bent over a potted conifer almost as tall as her. ‘Callie! Thank God. You see what I’m dealing with?’ She reached her arms out to encompass the project.
‘Oh, wow, look at these plants!’ Callie ran her gaze over dozens of advanced maples and elms, liquidambars, dogwoods and conifers. Further back were azaleas—masses of them—flaxes, rhododendrons, grevilleas. Pots and pots of colourful advanced trees, shrubs and groundcovers.
‘Yes, look at them. All of them.’
‘They’re lovely.’
‘I’m glad you’re impressed,’ Tess said. ‘What the hell do I do with them?’
Callie laughed at Tess’s dry tone. ‘Why did you volunteer for this?’
‘Because it’s what I do: a bit of everything that needs doing. And the activities. I organise all of those, run PR and special offers for the lodge, a few dozen other things … and garden. Apparently. I took a photo of each of the established garden islands, thought perhaps this one …’ She scrolled through the photos on her phone. ‘Looked a lot like the shape of this one, so we could just recreate that here.’
Callie took a look, shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Tess asked in disbelief. ‘Why not?’
‘Because that garden bed faces north. This bed faces south. All those plants that look out so happily over in that garden will all want to face the other way in this one and the ground in this bed is bordering on soggy, with heavy shade. These particular plants don’t like having wet feet. They’ll sulk and die. If you want to replicate that bed in your photo, you should do it over there.’ She pointed to a sunnier position on the other side of the drive. ‘You have other plants that will suit this spot better.’
‘Right. Well, what about those?’ Tess said, pointing to a group of pots. ‘Can we plant them around that big rock there?’ She pointed to another spot nearby. ‘They’d look good out on the edge.’
‘They’re azaleas.’
‘I know they’re azaleas, they’re planted all over the grounds here.’
‘Yeah, but you’re planting those ones in full sun on the western side. They prefer dappled sunlight or morning sun and light afternoon shade.’
Tess looked around the garden, considering that. ‘You sure?’
‘I’d be sure in my part of the world. Though I’ve never tried growing them in Tassie.’
‘Then what am I going to put there?’
‘I’d be inclined to use the liriope in front, maybe the grevillea behind. Or a weeping maple. We should place them out, make sure we find the right positions for everything before planting. Grab that cherry. I’ve got the perfect spot for it.’
It really didn’t take Tess any time at all to get the hang of what to put where once she had the basics straight in her mind. Callie found herself enjoying Tess’s chatter, laughing at her stories. The conversation went a long way towards taking the edge off her earlier conversation with Ned.
When they just about had the plants all placed out, she straightened to see the layout of the first garden bed. ‘What do you think?’ she asked Tess, who stood beside her to admire it.
‘Gorgeous. I think it’s going to look gorgeous.’
‘Then I’ll start putting these in.’ Callie picked up a shovel and dropped it into the damp soil. A few tourists passed them, said hi and moved on. There hadn’t been so much as a flicker of recognition for Callie. Perhaps the reporters hanging around at home, the phone calls and letters and interview requests were a thing of the past. Perhaps there was a chance she could put everything behind her. Get on with her life.
She scooped out the earth, picked up the robinia and tapped the edge of the pot to remove it before setting it in place.
‘Hey, perhaps before we go any further, we should grab some lunch?’ Tess said.
Callie’s stomach was growling but … ‘I’m not sure I want to go up there.’
‘Oh—right. I tell you what, we’ll go in the side entrance—straight to the staff room.’
Callie stretched her back, thinking about it. ‘Okay. I suppose.’
She followed Tess up to the guesthouse, through the side entrance and down a short corridor to a relaxed area with tables and chairs, a kitchenette and a pool table. There was a fireplace teasing a few red coals and not much else; it was already bordering on too warm. Or was that just her nerves? There were only two other people using the room, and neither gave Callie more than a casual friendly glance.
‘See? You’re fine,’ Tess whispered. ‘You can come and get some food from the buffet in the dining room, or you can wait here and I’ll grab you some pasta—that’s what I’m having. It’s chicken boscaiola today, I think.’
‘Sounds great, ta,’ Callie said with relief.
‘Help yourself to a can of drink from the fridge, or tea or coffee from the machine. Won’t be long.’
The two other people left, leaving her to herself. Callie found the fridge, grabbed a Diet Coke and chose a table by the window in the corner. What a beautiful spot. She would have killed for a job like this when she’d been landscaping. Just about any garden would look good with a backdrop like this, and the size and scale favoured big, beautiful plantings. This place was going to look amazing on the website she was already planning for her business. It was a promotion
al dream.
Movement in the doorway made her glance up. She almost dropped her can, fumbling it to the table instead. The guy was … big. Tall and built, with thick dark hair and a tough-guy expression softened marginally by a lift at one corner of his mouth. He was untidy and dusty in denims and a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His dishevelled state didn’t detract from the way his presence seemed to shrink the room as he entered it.
‘Hi,’ he said in a deep—of course it was—voice.
Callie swallowed a trickle of nerves before answering. ‘Hello.’
He came right over, leant on the chair opposite and studied her with direct, dark eyes. ‘How is it that I don’t know you?’
Luck? she thought, as she sat back as far as possible in her chair. Or maybe you don’t watch the news. ‘Is there a reason you should?’
‘Yeah. You’re in my staff room.’
‘Your staff room?’ So was this Connor Atherton, she guessed. Or Logan? She relaxed a little. Not just some random stockman. The thought was reassuring. Sort of.
‘Yeah. And you’re not staff.’
‘Correct.’ Where was Tess?
‘Hmm.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and she was pretty sure he could see right into her mind and pluck whatever he wanted to know right out of it. ‘You’re not a guest who’s lost her way?’
‘Two for two.’
He laughed appreciatively. ‘I’m Connor.’
‘I figured.’
‘And you are?’
‘Callie,’ Tess said, coming in with two steaming plates of pasta. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d want a side salad. I can go back—oh, you’ve met Connor.’
‘Not exactly,’ Connor said, his dark eyes still framed with amusement.
‘Oh.’ Tess looked from Connor to Callie, caught on. ‘Callie’s a friend of mine who happens to be a landscaper.’ She put a plate down in front of Callie, put the other down next to it and sat. ‘We wanted to avoid the chaos of the dining room, so we decided to eat in here.’