The Round Yard

by Alissa Callen

  ‘I’ve no idea why.’

  ‘Because they’re smart; they’ve worked out you’re not as tough as you look.’ Denham’s voice lowered. ‘The bad news is Neve has too.’

  Tanner didn’t answer, just peeled off his gloves.

  ‘If you go off droving again you’ve got rocks in your head.’

  ‘The thought has crossed my mind.’

  Denham’s eyes narrowed. ‘About droving or the rocks.’

  Tanner spoke honestly. ‘Both.’

  His answer seemed to satisfy Denham. He nodded before swapping the crowbar for a shovel. ‘I’m here anytime you need that cold beer.’

  After a quick trip back to Claremont to shower, feed Arrow and collect Patch, Tanner took the bitumen road that would lead him to the Galloways’ farm. When he came to a front entrance with ornate scrolled gates, he slowed and drove along the gumtree-lined driveway. Edna’s husband, Noel, was a respected farmer. The straight fence lines and neat, organised sheds were a testament to how little time he spent in town, unlike his social wife.

  The road forked and Tanner headed to the right to where the stables stood next to a rubber-lined round yard. Throughout the years of pony club, pony camps and equestrian expos, Bethany had retained her love of horses. Even the time away at Sydney completing an exercise physiology degree hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm. Now at home on the farm and in between jobs, Tanner could understand why she filled her life with her horses. It was either that or be at the beck and call of her mother.

  Bethany had heard his ute and came to the door of the stable complex to wave. Tall and blonde like her father, Bethany had no shortage of male admirers. He was sure her tendency to go out with smooth-talking city boys was a reflection of her mother’s pressure to settle down with a suitable country boy.

  He was also sure her reputation as sometimes being difficult and moody was a result of having Edna micro-manage her life. Whenever he’d worked with her, Bethany had always been pleasant and cooperative. Early on in their friendship, she’d also reassured him she didn’t share her mother’s matchmaking plans.

  He left his ute and Bethany gave him a hug. He resisted the urge to turn towards the house to see if Edna had the front window curtains back, watching them.

  Bethany pulled away with a smile. ‘It’s okay, Mum’s still in town. She had a meeting about the picnic races and they always go for ages.’

  ‘So there’s a reason why you said I needed to come around late afternoon?’

  Bethany’s smile widened. ‘You bet. Come and meet my new horse. All will be revealed.’

  Intrigued, Tanner followed her into the stables. There was something about the spring in Bethany’s step that warned him there was a little of Edna in Bethany after all. Bethany was also very good at getting her own way.

  ‘So … this project horse will need a lot of work?’ he said as they passed several empty stalls. There had to be a reason why Bethany’s project horse was stabled so far away from the doorway.

  Bethany led him to the very last stall. She turned to face him, her expression surprisingly serious. ‘Yes … I hope so.’

  Tanner stepped forward to look over the half-door. He didn’t know what he expected—an unbroken brumby, a fresh-from-racing thoroughbred or a horse no one could handle. Instead, all he saw was a black Shetland pony who stared at him with large eyes. Even from such a brief look, Tanner knew this open and relaxed horse was no Bassie and would be easy to work with.

  ‘Yep. He’s a real troublemaker.’

  Bethany gave a quick laugh. ‘That’s all Mum needs to hear.’ Bethany dug into her jeans pocket. ‘Plus, I’ve shown her this.’

  She held up her phone for Tanner to see a close-up picture of the pony, ears pinned back and the whites of his eyes showing while he reared. ‘He doesn’t like drones.’

  ‘And that’s all he doesn’t like?’

  ‘Yes, otherwise he’s bombproof.’

  Tanner looked at the pony again who’d come over to the stable door to greet them. He stroked his nose. ‘So … I’m to come and work with him as much as I can?’

  Uncertainty tempered the light in Bethany’s grey eyes. ‘Yes … if that’s all right. Mum thinks all ponies are trouble. She also never comes to the stables so won’t know he isn’t as he seems.’

  Tanner nodded, letting Bethany keep speaking. ‘I’ve always wanted a pony like him … his home wasn’t great. And …’

  ‘And …?’

  Bethany scrolled through the pictures on her phone. ‘And this happened.’

  She held up a picture of her with her arm around a man, and not just any man, but Mac Barton.

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  She sighed. ‘I knew you would. Thanks to Mum’s family feud with Clive, she would have kittens knowing Mac and I are seeing each other.’

  ‘So with me being here she’ll be busy thinking something might happen between us and not wondering what else you’re up to.’

  Bethany crossed her fingers.

  Tanner spoke again. ‘Does your dad know?’

  Bethany and her father were close.

  ‘Of course. He said if it was okay with you, it was okay with him.’

  Tanner searched Bethany’s pretty face. This was the most earnest he’d ever seen her. She’d also picked some less-than-worthy city blokes to torment her mother with. Mac Barton was a good guy, even if his father was as hard as nails.

  Bethany continued. ‘Tanner … I really like him. He’s so good to me.’

  Tanner looked at the placid pony. ‘I might need to head off for a week droving, it depends on whether it rains out west, but otherwise this little fella and I can get to know each other. There’re some tricks I could teach him and we can work on his fear of drones.’

  Bethany’s hug was tight. ‘I owe you.’

  ‘Just don’t ask me to come to Sunday lunch.’

  ‘That’s a given.’ She looked at the time on her phone. ‘We have about an hour if you want to come and have a coffee with Dad. He’s missed all of your chats.’

  Forty-five minutes later Tanner drove past the ornate front gate and onto the bitumen road. He lifted a hand in greeting as a strange car travelled in the opposite direction. The driver returned his wave.

  Spending time with Bethany’s father made him think of his own. If only his father would come to the bush to see the camaraderie, the wide-open spaces and the sheer natural beauty. Once he did perhaps he’d understand why Tanner had made the choices he had. He hadn’t rejected his father, or his city world, he’d just listened to his heart.

  He took the turn onto the red dirt road that led to Bundara and slowed as a wallaby sat poised by the roadside. Dusk always saw wildlife on the move as they went in search of food. Even though he knew Graham wouldn’t have collected the girls so Neve wouldn’t be on her way, he scanned the road ahead for signs of dust.

  The moment of intensity they’d shared at the playground couldn’t happen again. He had no right to complicate Neve’s life any more than it was. He rolled his shoulders as the ute rattled over the old white wooden bridge. As for his haemorrhaging self-control, tonight he could only hope his common sense also didn’t abandon him.

  Patch’s loud barking announced their arrival as Tanner parked outside the bluestone stables that had been converted into living quarters.

  Max, accompanied by Molly, raced across the velvety lawn and through the open garden gate. Their fluffy black-and-white tails wagged in welcome. As soon as Patch was unclipped the trio sprinted into the large garden. Over near the cedar tree, freshly turned earth marked the site of the new garden bed. A rusted orange rotary hoe was parked beneath the tree.

  Dressed in a long-sleeved white dress, Fliss walked down the veranda steps of the bluestone homestead. The restored farmhouse barely resembled the derelict eyesore the doctor had purchased when she’d needed an isolated sanctuary to deal with the loss of a patient.

  ‘That’s what I call good timing.’ Fliss kissed his cheek. ‘Hewitt jus
t cracked open a beer.’

  Tanner grinned and passed her a bottle of red wine. ‘So much for waiting?’

  ‘As if I couldn’t hear you coming,’ Hewitt said as he walked through the front door with two beers in his hand. ‘No wonder Edna always knows where you are. It’s not just the colour of your ute, everyone knows the sound of your V8.’

  ‘I swear she’s put a GPS tracker on it somewhere,’ Tanner said with a grimace as he accepted a beer and followed Hewitt to the outdoor table in the barbeque area.

  After Tanner had taken a seat, Hewitt clinked his bottle against his. ‘Thanks for your help today. To the new adventure playground.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that and also to having some Edna-free days.’

  Their beers were only half finished when the dogs barked as Neve’s white sedan negotiated the dip in the road and then parked beside his ute. Tanner took a swig of beer to hide his tension. Tonight his self-control had to be watertight.

  The three border collies rushed to welcome Neve. Dressed in a fitted floral dress that showed off her slender waist and the curve of her hips, she patted each dog before walking through the garden gate. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, leaving the delicate, pale curve of her neck bare.

  At the wisteria-covered tank stand, she slowed to examine the corrugated-iron tank. As she drew closer to the bluestone homestead she studied the front façade, a half-smile curving her lips. It was as though with every step the green light in her eyes softened and her shoulders relaxed.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ he said in a low voice to Hewitt.

  ‘Coming here just seems to lift a weight off her.’

  They both stood to meet her.

  ‘I’m glad you could make it,’ Hewitt said as he gave Neve a hug.

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘Tanner.’ She gave him a friendly smile, but her eyes didn’t hold his for long.

  ‘Neve.’

  ‘Your timing’s perfect too,’ Fliss said as she joined them to set a cheese-and-cracker platter on the table. ‘The usual to drink?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  Fliss disappeared inside, taking with her the pink box of chocolates and green leafy salad Neve had brought.

  Neve took a chair beside Hewitt and passed him an envelope. ‘I found some more old garden photos in Mum’s albums.’

  ‘Great. It’s been interesting seeing what the garden used to look like.’

  He opened the envelope and took out a black-and-white photo of a woman and a child sitting on a rug on the lawn.

  Neve leaned over to point to a garden bed filled with flowers that lay beyond the cedar tree. ‘Look how far back the fence used to be.’

  Hewitt groaned. ‘Don’t let Fliss see this. She’ll want new beds over there too. I thought the old rotary hoe had finally called it quits yesterday, but I’d only run over a metal box. Actually … I wonder if you recognise it. It might have been your mother’s or grandmother’s?’

  Hewitt headed inside and Tanner became acutely aware that he and Neve were alone. A faint blush coloured her cheeks and wariness had returned to cloud her gaze. The moment between them that morning had affected her too.

  He made sure his words sounded casual. ‘How was the lolly shop?’

  ‘Fun … except Graham mightn’t agree thanks to the sugar high the girls were on when he collected them.’

  Tanner smiled. ‘If it’s okay, I’ll be out mid-morning tomorrow.’

  She nodded, her attention on Hewitt as he walked across the lawn carrying a brown metal box. He placed the box on the table in front of Neve. ‘Look familiar?’

  She shook her head, her brow creasing as she ran a finger along the battered edge. ‘I haven’t seen anything similar in any photo either.’ She tilted the box to look at the keyhole at the front. Something inside rattled.

  Hewitt returned to his seat. ‘I thought there might have been a key buried too, so did some digging with the shovel, but there was nothing.’

  Neve looked at the house and then back to the box. ‘I wonder …’ She stood. ‘There was an old key hidden on the veranda rafters. Mum found it once when she was using the broom to get rid of wasps’ nests. I remember when she put it back she was stung.’

  Tanner followed Neve and Hewitt to the northern side of the veranda. Neve pursed her lips as she looked around and then pointed at a section of the old roof line that sloped downwards. ‘It was about here, I think. I watched Mum through this window as she made me go inside away from the wasps.’

  Hewitt stretched to run his hand along the dusty rafters. Tanner did the same on the other side.

  ‘Got it,’ Hewitt said as he lowered his arm. In his palm lay a rusty, old-fashioned key. ‘It looks the right shape.’ He handed Neve the key and dusted off his palms. ‘We’ll soon find out.’

  Once back at the table Neve appeared to hold her breath as she inserted the key. Delight and hope brightened her eyes even before she uttered an awed, ‘It fits.’

  She turned the key and opened the box, making sure she angled it so Tanner and Hewitt could see the contents. There looked to be a dried posy of faded flowers, a gold-embossed invitation, a metal plaque of some sort and a wartime wedding photograph.

  When the smile died on Neve’s lips, Tanner forgot all about what was in the box.

  ‘Neve?’

  She didn’t appear to hear him. Then she shot him a confused, wide-eyed look. ‘This is my grandmother …’ She carefully took out the wedding photograph. ‘But I have no idea who … this man is.’

  CHAPTER

  8

  ‘Who was he? Why didn’t we know?’

  In the days since the discovery that her grandmother had had another husband, Neve’s questions had only increased. She finished the last spoonful of her breakfast cereal and ran her finger over her favourite picture of her grandmother. Taken when she was in her twenties, Netta looked serene, an expression Neve didn’t always remember.

  She’d been through the family photo albums and grainy old film reel footage she’d put onto discs for her mother to watch when her mobility wasn’t good. It was as though the man in the photograph, and her grandmother’s secret marriage, never existed. Today was Saturday, and apart from Cressy delivering Jazz, Neve could devote the whole day to delving deeper into the past.

  She was sure her mother hadn’t known of her grandmother’s other marriage. No mention was ever made of her grandmother even having another suitor. Neve had always understood that her grandmother and grandfather had been family friends and married after the war. They’d only had the one child, and while her grandfather had been difficult to live with, her grandmother had never mentioned having had a life with someone else.

  Neve stretched in the kitchen chair and rubbed at her lower back. Shock had given way to a burning need to know more about the man in the picture and why he’d been erased from her grandmother’s life. As a child she’d accepted her grandfather’s black moods and her grandmother’s explanation that he’d be back to his old self soon.

  But as an adult she questioned what type of marriage her gentle and loving grandmother had really had. She owed it to her to now piece together the fragments of her life. A life that the wedding photo proved had brought her great joy. A life that the buried and much-treasured mementoes said was one she’d wanted to hold on to.

  Neve stared at the wedding photo that had been hidden in the box. While she hadn’t found any marriage certificates on the internet for her grandmother at all, she had dated the cash box to around the 1940s. She’d also discovered the metal plaque was an engine plate from an aircraft. The gold-embossed invitation for a Grand RAAF ball held at the Air School Ballroom, Narromine on 21 March 1945, further gave her a wartime context.

  She examined her grandmother’s photo again. ‘What happened? Is this why you would sometimes look so sad when you stared out the window?’

  Only the sound of tyres on gravel and the rattle of a horse float answered her.

  A cool breeze
greeted Neve as she left the farmhouse. It wouldn’t be long until the cicadas carolling in the trees would quieten. Over on the trellis that shaded the western side of the house, the green ornamental grape sported a single burgundy leaf. Soon the other leaves would also change colour and the Virginia creeper entwined around the gum tree would burst into rich red hues.

  Cressy waved as she left her silver ute. In the back of the horse float Neve could see Jazz’s grey-dappled rump.

  ‘Morning.’ Cressy’s cheerful greeting was at odds with the stiff way she moved.

  ‘Morning.’

  Neve took a closer look at her visitor. The cowgirl’s pink work shirt hung off her and failed to impart colour into her cheeks. Weddings could be stressful and she’d known university friends who’d lost weight before their big day. But Cressy wasn’t one to worry about whether or not she’d fit into her bridal gown.

  When Neve went to help the cowgirl take Jazz’s gear from the back of the ute, Cressy’s smile contained its usual sunshine. ‘Jazz’s so excited.’

  Bassie’s high-pitched neigh was followed by Jazz’s whicker.

  ‘She’s not the only one.’ Neve made sure she took hold of the heavy saddle before Cressy could reach for it. ‘How’s that side of yours?’

  Cressy shrugged as she collected the saddle cloth and bridle. ‘Doing okay.’

  After they’d stored Jazz’s gear in the tack shed, Cressy unloaded the mare. Neve moved to pat the gentle grey who’d always come to the fence to say hello whenever she’d visited. Jazz had been rescued by Cressy when she’d been injured in a horse-truck accident and her owner had been intent on calling the doggers.

  ‘She’s going to love being here,’ Cressy said as Jazz nuzzled Neve’s hand. ‘I also appreciate her coming to stay. I feel guilty enough having Phil check on our place every second day while we’re in Europe.’

  Cressy had explained when she’d called to arrange a drop-off time that Jazz needed to be fed her nutritional supplements for her arthritis daily.

  ‘It’s no trouble to feed her every afternoon. I just hope she doesn’t mind me having my learner plates on.’