‘Dad?’ Nick said, after they’d gone a little way. ‘You know how baby chicks are born outside their mummy’s tummy?’
He blinked. It took him a moment to take in what his son was saying. ‘When they hatch, you mean? Yeah, what about it?’
‘Well, I’m just like them, aren’t I?’ his son said, looking up at him. ‘I was born outside my mummy’s tummy, too.’
Jack’s heart hammered. A knot formed in his gut. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. Not here, not now. Not with Katrina there beside him. Aside from that, how did his son know? Who had told him? Surely not Gwen.
The boy handed him the basket. ‘Can you carry this for me?’
‘Sure.’
Katrina walked on in silence as their son ran on. Jack stared ahead, waiting for the inevitable question, the basket handle growing sweaty.
‘What did Nick mean by that, Jack?’ she asked at last.
He breathed out through his nostrils. What could he say? How could he explain, without going into everything? And what was the explanation, anyway? That their son was psychic? That somehow he’d figured out Ann-Marie wasn’t his natural mother?
Now wasn’t the time.
‘Buggered if I know,’ he said, taking the coward’s way out. ‘Kids get the weirdest ideas.’
* * *
Katrina watched the boy race up the track. All of a sudden, the day seemed too hot, the sunshine too bright. She stumbled, not seeing where she was going. Jack grabbed her arm and steadied her. But his strength wasn’t reassuring. Something important hovered at the edge of her consciousness, something about what Nick had said. But she couldn’t take it in.
By the time they reached the homestead, she felt more grounded.
Jack was right. Kids got the weirdest ideas.
* * *
Katrina used the time before lunch to withdraw to her room and do some work on her laptop. The day was getting oppressively hot outside, but inside was still cool.
Jack had given her the wifi code, so she logged on to the internet and checked her emails. There was the inevitable one from her boss, asking how she was going. Several others were from friends and internet colleagues. After replying to them all, she tried to call her neighbour on Skype, but it rang out. She left a message, explaining that she had gone away for a few days and asking her to take in her mail.
With time to spare before lunch, she opened the report she’d been writing before she came to Yarrangobilla, set to work and finished it. She had just uploaded it to the website when Nick appeared to tell her lunch was ready.
Mike’s omelettes were everything Nick promised they would be: light, fluffy and delicious. But the cheerful mood they’d shared during the egg-collecting disappeared when Jack announced he had to go and shift the mare.
‘Can’t I come?’ his son asked, pulling a long face.
‘I thought you were happy to stay here with Katrina?’ Jack said, as Katrina helped him clear the table.
‘I am, but —’
‘Why don’t you show her the veggie garden while I’m gone. Dig up a few spuds and carrots for dinner. Then, if you’re really good, I might ask Grandma to bring you over some cupcakes for afternoon tea.’
The boy looked at Katrina. ‘Would you like to do that, Katina? Dig up some spuds and carrots?’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘And you promised to show me the ballroom, remember?’
The boy flashed a guilty look at his father.
‘Nick should have told you, Katrina. Some places at Yarrangobilla are out of bounds. Especially for curious six-year-olds. That room’s locked, or it should be.’
‘Why?’ she asked, before thinking. Had something bad happened there? Something to do with his wife?
‘Last time Nick showed the ballroom to a visitor,’ Jack said, ‘he ended up breaking a vase. The polished floors make an excellent place to skate round in your socks, but Nick isn’t always as careful as he should be.’
‘Oh!’ She smiled. ‘Maybe we can do that another time, Nick?’ she added in a stage whisper. ‘I’ll help you clear anything breakable first, though.’
‘You bet,’ the boy returned with a grin.
As she finished her meal, she felt Jack’s gaze on her, but she didn’t look up. Yet avoiding his gaze was almost as tantalising as facing him directly. More so. This way, she could wonder whether he was looking at her with desire.
After seeing Jack drive off down the dirt track that led cross-country to the other stables to float the mare, Katrina joined Nick in the vegetable garden, a huge square tucked round the side of the house. The sun bore down fiercely, the sky almost white with glare, but a line of poplars that formed a windbreak to the south of the house gave a patch of shade. Katrina looked toward the western horizon where huge white clouds banked like snow-capped mountains piercing the sky. She couldn’t tell if they were rain clouds.
In the garden shed they collected trowels and a bucket, and Nick started to dig below the green growth to the knotted roots beneath the soil. Many of the potatoes were fully grown, she discovered, but the carrots were only medium sized. Still too early in the season, she guessed. She and Nick scrubbed them clean at an outside tap. They were almost done when they heard a car come up the long drive.
‘That’s probably your grandma,’ Katrina said, wiping her hands dry on her thighs.
‘Yay, cupcakes!’ He scooted off, jumped onto the veranda and disappeared inside.
Katrina placed the potatoes and carrots into the bucket, her heart full. She could imagine being happy at Yarrangobilla, collecting eggs and vegetables, following the seasons. Something deep inside yearned for such simplicity. As she came up the veranda steps, she heard Gwen Harrington’s voice through the kitchen window.
‘Look at this mess! Why don’t you take off your boots before you come inside?’
‘Sorry, Grandma. Wait till you see all the potatoes we dug up.’
‘What do you need more potatoes for? There’s plenty in the pantry. And you shouldn’t take cakes before they’re offered. Now get that dirt outside.’
Nick came out through the door, crumbs on his mouth, his bottom lip trembling. Katrina’s heart went out to him. She hoped his grandmother didn’t always speak to him like that. She held back a moment, before calling out.
‘Hello, Gwen. How are you this afternoon?’
‘Oh, hello, dear. Wayne told me you’d decided to stay.’ The older woman stepped out onto the veranda smiling, all sweetness and light. She looked down at Katrina’s dust-stained clothes. ‘Why don’t you stay outside here and I’ll bring a tray?’
Nick sat on the edge of the veranda, swinging his legs. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Maybe those clouds did mean rain?
‘Time for cupcakes, eh, Nick?’ she said, trying to brighten him.
‘Yeah,’ he said, his expression glum.
I wish I had a real grandma. She heard the voice, as clearly as if someone had spoken inside her head, just as she had when visiting Murray Tom. Her heart thumped in response, her fingers tingling. It was Nick’s voice. How could that be? Before she had time to react, Gwen Harrington appeared with a tray of cakes, glasses of iced water and a pot of tea. She handed Katrina a glass.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It’s hot work, digging. Isn’t it, Nick?’
‘A bit.’
‘We’ll have to tell Jack to do something about those protestors at the front gate,’ Gwen said in a low voice, pouring from the teapot into a prettily patterned china cup. ‘They’ve been making an awful fuss about Jack’s plan.’
‘What plan is that?’
‘To cull the brumbies. He wants to shoot them, apparently. I don’t know why. They tried once, years ago. It caused an uproar.’
She frowned. As far as she was aware, Jack had no such plan. But if the protestors believed he did, could they have freed the brumby stallion?
Nick was banging his boots against the wooden slats that hid the foundations. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbl
ed again.
‘Stop that noise,’ Gwen raised her voice, frowning. ‘Why don’t you find something useful to do?’
‘I could check the mail,’ he offered, standing up and dusting off crumbs.
‘You do that. There’s a good boy.’
He jumped off the veranda and disappeared round the side.
Gwen handed Katrina a cup of tea and they sat in silence for a few moments.
‘Where is the mail delivered?’ Katrina asked, putting down her cup.
‘Down at the front gate…oh, dear! You don’t think…?’
The protesters.
Katrina pushed back her chair, a rush of guilt surging through her. She had promised to keep an eye on Jack’s son and what had she done? Let him wander off by himself with strangers hanging about! All the while priding herself that she could be trusted to look after him. What would Jack think if she let anything happen to him?
Dashing inside, she grabbed her keys. It would be quicker in the car. Thankfully, Nick was barely halfway down the long drive when she caught up with him.
She slowed down and lowered her window. ‘Want a lift? Looks like it might rain.’
He looked up. The clouds on the horizon had advanced across the sky. ‘Nuh. It never rains here.’
‘Want a lift anyway?’
‘Okay.’
He climbed in the passenger side and buckled up, and they set off down the drive. She pulled over just before they got to the front gate, a few metres from the mailbox. A crowd of people milled outside. Demonstrators dressed up as native animals were carrying protest banners.
‘Hey! There’s the koala,’ Nick cried. Before she could stop him, he jumped out of the car.
She looked where he’d pointed. One of the animal costumes was a giant white koala, holding a banner that read ‘Feral animals have rights.’
Murray Tom’s words came back to her. Maybe if you stop listening for what you want to hear, you’ll start hearing what’s important. So, was this the koala Nick had seen at the show? A protestor?
The costumed figures began marching toward them, waving placards. Fear pumped though her. She lowered her window again and shouted, ‘Get in, Nick. Please.’
‘I haven’t checked the mailbox.’
‘Get in,’ she insisted. ‘Quick.’
Frowning, the boy obeyed.
As the door slammed shut, the protestors started toward them. She fired up the engine. The wheels spun on the dirt as she did a swift U-turn. She made it back up the driveway before she realised how fast her heart was beating. Her hands felt sweaty on the wheel. She glanced in the rear-view mirror. Luckily, no one had followed. Maybe they knew better than to trespass on Yarrangobilla property?
As she parked in the turning circle, in the shade of an old gum tree, she took a deep breath and asked, ‘Nick, what happened when you talked to the koala at the showground the other day?’
‘Nothing.’ He looked out the side window, his expression tight.
‘Sometimes it’s hard to tell grown-ups things, isn’t it?’ she said, hoping she was striking the right note. ‘Especially if we think we might get into trouble. If I promise I won’t tell anybody, will you tell me?’
He shrugged. ‘I was running and I fell over and…I wanted to go home. The koala asked me if I was okay.’
Somewhere in her mind’s eye she could see him, hands grazed, face smeared with mud, crying. But he wasn’t crying because he’d fallen.
‘Did the man in the koala suit offer to take you home?’
‘It wasn’t a man, Katina. It was a lady. She said she’d drive me, but Daddy told me never to accept lifts from strangers. I walked a long, long way, and I got lost.’
‘Why did you want to go home?’
He looked up, his dark eyes flashing. Again, she heard the echo of a voice inside her head. I wish I had a real grandma. Electricity shivered up her spine. Was she tuning into the boy’s thoughts? Did he think a real grandma was someone warm and soft and kind? Someone different from Gwen Harrington?
‘Did Grandma say something mean to you at the showground?’ she asked. ‘Was that why you wanted to go home?’
His eyes glistened. ‘She told me Daddy was going to shoot the brumby if it got lame. She said I couldn’t sit on the fence to watch Daddy and called me a cry-baby, but I wasn’t crying.’ He blinked, his lids filling with tears. ‘And I don’t even like cupcakes.’
Katrina sighed. Things were beginning to make sense. ‘Did you tell the koala lady what Grandma said? About Daddy maybe having to shoot the brumby?’
He nodded.
At least now she understood how the environmentalists had got their ideas. And why Nick had run away. Gwen. She tamped down her anger. She supposed it was understandable. The woman was getting older, and she didn’t appear particularly suited to farm life, let alone coping with the rough and tumble of a six-year-old boy. But it was also understandable that Nick had wanted to leave the showground. He’d been so upset he’d walked the wrong way.
‘It’s okay.’ She leaned across and gave the boy a hug. ‘Everything’s all right.’
As he snuggled into her, her heart contracted. Jack’s child clearly needed love, and she had more than enough love to give. But she didn’t want him to get attached to her. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them when she left.
‘Nick,’ she said, pulling away, ‘now that we’re into telling secrets, can you tell me what you were talking about with Murray Tom that day at the show?’
He wiped the tears off his cheeks. ‘Swimming.’
‘Swimming?’ She laughed in relief.
‘Murray Tom is teaching me to swim. It’s a secret. Lara used to take me down there for lessons, but she left.’
‘Lara was your nanny?’
He nodded.
So that was the source of the mystery! Jack had no cause to worry. Without thinking, she said, ‘I could take you down there. Murray Tom might give me a lesson, too.’
He tilted his head. ‘Can’t you swim?’
She shook her head. ‘I never learned. I was always a little afraid of the water.’
‘Murray Tom can show you, too,’ he said.
She bit her lip, realising what she had done. She had put off going away. Again.
‘We’ll have to tell your daddy, though, so he doesn’t worry.’
‘That’ll spoil the surprise.’
‘It will still be a surprise for everyone else. Wayne and Grandma, and Sandra. I bet they’ll all be really proud of you for learning.’
He frowned, considering. Finally he nodded. ‘Okay.’
That settled it. If Jack agreed, she would take Nick down to the lake in the morning. She had another reason to see Murray Tom. This time when they talked she might find out why he’d appeared in her dreams.
* * *
After seeing off the mare, Jack returned to the homestead via the dirt track that linked the station with the stables at Gwen’s. He climbed out of the four-wheel-drive and looked up at the sky. During the long, hot afternoon, he’d watched the clouds build up with interest.
The massive formations looked impressive, but he still wasn’t convinced. Every afternoon for weeks, clouds had formed on the horizon, clapped a few thunderbolts, and delivered nothing. Not a drop of rain. But they desperately needed some soon. The ground was brick hard, the dams almost dry, the river drying up and the lake level dropping. A low rumble of thunder rolled through the valleys, too far away to be promising.
He stepped inside the homestead, out of the heat. The house sounded eerily silent. He strode down the corridor and glanced into Katrina’s room. Her suitcase stood at the door. He breathed out, annoyed at himself. She hadn’t gone. She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
The sound of laughter drew him to the front entrance.
Coming up the stone path he saw Katrina and Nick, walking. He leaned against the door post, his heart swelling. They were so alike. Both dark-haired and dark-eyed. Mother and son. For the first time h
e realised how obvious it was to anyone, their relation to one another. How could she not see it herself? Was he crazy to think she might accept him, once she knew the truth?
Behind him, the library door clicked open and Gwen appeared.
‘Hello, Jack,’ she said. ‘I’ve just been looking at the old photo albums Nick left out. It’s amazing what memories they bring back.’ She glanced past him toward Katrina and Nick, murmuring, ‘I thought she looked familiar. I hadn’t realised how much alike they were, until now.’
Jack’s heart thudded. Gwen knew! Or, at least, she suspected. But he wouldn’t confirm her suspicion unless he had to.
‘They do look alike, don’t they?’ he said, deciding to brave it out. ‘You’d almost think they were related.’
‘They are, I’m sure of it,’ his mother-in-law said. ‘I’d almost forgotten that girl. And the rumours she spread. The photo brought it all back to me.’
He frowned. Were they talking about the same thing? ‘What girl?’
‘The dark-haired lass who used to work here, years ago. There’s a photo of her in the album. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Why this one’s turned up out of nowhere?’
Jack struggled to reply. If she hadn’t been only in her sixties, he’d have sworn Gwen was going senile.
‘She wants something, I’m sure of it.’ She disappeared back down the hall.
Katrina and Nick arrived at the top of the stairs.
‘Daddy, Murray Tom’s teaching me to swim. That’s what we were talking about at the showground. It’s meant to be a secret, but Katina says I should tell you. She said she’d take me down to the lake for a lesson, but only if you think it’s okay.’
He glanced at Katrina and she smiled. So that was the mystery!
‘Well, I’m glad you told me, sunshine.’ Jack put a hand on his son’s back and urged him inside. ‘Why don’t you go see what Mike’s rustling up for dinner?’
When Nick raced toward the kitchen, he turned to Katrina. ‘Looks like you’ve worked a miracle. You’re very good with him. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to change careers? Like I said, since his nanny left, there’s been a vacancy.’
* * *
Katrina stared at Jack, trying to judge whether he was serious. A light breeze stirred the dry air.
Snowy River Man Page 14