The Orchardist's Daughter

by Karen Viggers

  Callum went straight for Rosie Junior, smiling and laughing as he rubbed the pup against his cheek. ‘Oh, cool. They’re so soft.’

  Jaden picked up Bruiser, and Max wasn’t surprised because Jaden and Bruiser were exactly the same. Bruiser was biggest because he pushed the others aside and claimed whatever he wanted. ‘Let’s take this one home, Callum,’ Jaden said.

  ‘You can’t,’ Max said. ‘He’s still drinking from Rosie. But in two weeks he’ll need a home.’

  ‘I don’t want to give him a home,’ Jaden said. ‘I want to feed him to Prince for breakfast.’

  Prince was Callum and Jaden’s dog: a bony German shepherd that chased little dogs and bit kids. When Bruiser grew up he’d be a good match for Prince, but now he was too little. Jaden gave Bruiser a shake that made the pup cry, then he started throwing him in the air and catching him.

  ‘Don’t,’ Max said. ‘You’re hurting him.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt. I’m good at catching.’ Jaden tossed the pup higher.

  ‘Stop it!’ Callum shouted at his brother. ‘He’s not a football.’

  ‘Just because you two are no good at footy.’

  Jaden kept doing it till Max was nearly in tears. ‘Cry-baby,’ Jaden said, thrusting the pup on the ground.

  Rosie bared her teeth and snarled—she was a good judge of character.

  ‘Keep your dog away from me,’ Jaden said. ‘Or I’ll kick her.’

  ‘She’s only doing it because you were hurting her pup,’ Max retorted. ‘She’s just being a good mum.’

  ‘Bullshit. She’s a mongrel.’

  Jaden went outside and booted Max’s footy over the fence into Leon’s place. Then he chucked Max’s bike over too. He was just about to give the same treatment to Max’s scooter when Mum pulled up in the driveway. Max saw her through the windscreen: she was glaring at Jaden. The big boy stared at her for a moment then set the scooter back on the ground. Mum and Suzie came over straight away.

  ‘I was just showing Callum and Jaden the pups,’ Max said, hoping Mum could tell he was desperate for Jaden to go.

  She looked at him, clear-eyed, and lit a cigarette, then turned to Jaden. He was leaning against the fence with his hands in his pockets, hair over his eyes. ‘Fun’s over now, boys,’ she said. ‘Max has jobs to do. Time to go home.’

  Max wanted to hug her—she knew exactly what was needed.

  Callum put Rosie Junior down gently and whispered to Max. ‘The pups are cool—you’re so lucky.’

  Max would have liked to invite Callum over another time, but he didn’t want Jaden near the pups ever again. He followed his friend to the gate and waved goodbye. Jaden was already gone, slouching down the street. When Callum caught up with his brother, Jaden turned back and gave Max the finger.

  13

  Sunday night, after closing time, Kurt announced he was going to Hobart. Miki was thrown. It was unusual for him to do things out of pattern; normally he went on Monday after they’d been to the forest. ‘Why don’t you wait till tomorrow?’ she asked.

  He was evasive. ‘I have a business meeting in the morning, then I’ll be home with a surprise.’

  Miki was unsure how to read him. Since taking that key, she’d felt stilted and strange around him, always watching to see if he knew she’d been out. When he was quiet, she became tense; if he was grumpy, she was convinced he was about to explode. Now she stood in the hallway, watching him pack pyjamas and a change of clothes into his duffel bag. He unlocked the filing cabinet and removed the black leather folder, slipping it in his bag on top of his jeans. Why was he taking it with him?

  ‘Can’t you tell me about the surprise now?’ she asked.

  He glanced at her with hooded eyes. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  Ordinarily, his surprises weren’t useful to her. Last time it had been gym equipment. The time before, a huge digital TV, which he controlled, selecting programs that didn’t interest her: sports replays, business videos, get-rich-quick schemes. When he was feeling upbeat, sometimes she was allowed to watch videos he’d chosen for her, like Little House on the Prairie and The Love Bug. But mostly he sat by himself watching shows that went late into the night. Occasionally she tried to open her door so she could see the screen, but Kurt had a sixth sense and he always caught her. She would try to listen from behind the closed door, but he kept the volume low so she couldn’t hear.

  When he was gone, revving down the lane in the ute, she sat in the shop looking out at the streetlights in the dark. A great stillness spread around her. She could hear the hum of the fridge, the buzz of the fluorescent light, the clock ticking on the wall. The shop was large and empty, but everything seemed close and confined. In the darkness, she was a Tasmanian devil in a Polypipe trap. Her skin itched. She decided to go out. Walking in the dark wasn’t ideal, but now she knew the taste of freedom she was constantly craving it.

  She fetched her hidden key and let herself out into the damp evening. It had been raining most of the day and water was still running in the gutters, the air fresh, grassy and rich. She roamed the streets, dodging puddles and spying through people’s windows. She had begun to discover where everyone lived. Robbo’s log truck was a giveaway, and Max’s family was up the same street; Shane’s rusty ute and Max’s dog Rosie confirmed it. Leon lived just next door; the white Toyota parked out the front had a Parks logo on the door.

  Down another side street, she watched TV through someone’s front window until she realised that being on the outside, looking in, was as sad as being on the inside, looking out. Unless you engaged with people, you were still very alone. This reality sent her home again. It wasn’t just freedom she longed for: she wanted companionship.

  In the little lounge room behind the shop, she plumped the cushions and swept up some wood splinters Kurt had left on the floor when he carried in the wood. Then she lit the fire. When the embers were glowing and the room was warm, she fetched Far from the Madding Crowd from beneath the pile of home-knitted jumpers in her wardrobe. It had been more than a week since Geraldine had given her the book, but she hadn’t dared read it when Kurt was at home. Now was a good time.

  As she nestled on the couch with the book in her hands, a flush of excitement ran through her. It was like the first time she’d opened Jane Eyre: the thrill of hovering on the cusp of a new world. Miki remembered feeling anger as Jane was persecuted by her relatives and the school principal. She recalled the joy of watching Jane’s friendship with Helen develop. Sadness when poor Helen died. The pleasure of travelling to Thornfield Hall when Jane began her job as a governess. Meeting Mr Rochester for the first time. Falling in love with him as his conversations with Jane unfolded. Miki had been inspired by Jane’s strength, the way she stood up for herself, her dignity, the integrity of her beliefs. Racing through the pages, Miki had followed the evolution of Jane’s relationship with Mr Rochester, the awakening of her passion, her horror at discovering Mr Rochester’s secret, her terrible journey of escape across the high moors.

  Now Miki was about to delve into a fresh story with new characters. New ideas. Her heart skipped. Kurt could keep her in the shop most of the time, but he couldn’t control where she went in her mind.

  She opened the book and flicked through the introduction.

  Chapter One, first line: When Farmer Oak smiled …

  The walls of the room melted as the story came to life.

  Later, she wondered where the hours had gone; they’d slipped by so fast. That was the magic of books, having the secrets of stories buried in their pages. It was just as Geraldine had said: Far from the Madding Crowd was wonderful. Miki liked Gabriel Oak from the start. She admired his steadiness, kindness and loyalty, and she was devastated when his dog herded his sheep over the cliffs. Losing everything had disempowered him; Miki knew how that felt.

  She wasn’t sure about Bathsheba at first; for a young woman she seemed so bold and independent. Miki was disappointed when Bathsheba turned down Gabriel’s offer of ma
rriage. She felt sorry for Gabriel because Bathsheba was so abrupt and insensitive in her refusal. But Miki could see it was too soon—Bathsheba wasn’t ready for marriage. She was wild and free and didn’t want to be tied down by expectations. She was so different from Miki, it was a little hard to relate to her. But as the book went on, Miki began to see that although their ambitions were different, they were, in some ways, alike. Bathsheba wanted more for herself, and Miki did too. She understood Bathsheba’s craving for freedom. And she admired the way Bathsheba forced men to see her as an equal. When Bathsheba inherited fortune and property, she wanted to prove she was smart enough to run a farm, something women didn’t do back in those times. Miki was impressed by the clever way Bathsheba persuaded men to help without ever bowing to them, never submitting. It was the opposite of what Miki had known. In her life—on the farm and in the shop—men had always been dominant. Bathsheba was proof it didn’t have to be that way. The women in this town stood up to their men too—Miki had seen it when they came into the shop—and she knew most of the men respected the women. But it wasn’t like that in Miki’s home: Kurt made sure she knew her place.

  Then there was Sergeant Troy, Bathsheba’s lover: the scene in the forest where he whisked his sword all around her while she stood very still. Miki felt the power and tension of Bathsheba’s emotions. She felt the breeze of the sword as it cut the air close to Bathsheba’s skin. She felt the violent aftershock when Sergeant Troy cut off a lock of Bathsheba’s hair with a sword he had told her was blunt. This was Bathsheba’s awakening as a woman, and it moved and unsettled Miki. She was a woman too. But her feelings were all locked inside. Sometimes they knocked in her chest like a hammer.

  As she read, Miki came to love Bathsheba and wanted to be like her. She read until she was exhausted and her mind was spinning. She read until she was full of words and ideas, all tumbling over each other.

  By the end, she knew that she and Bathsheba had much in common. Miki wanted to go out into the world and meet people too. She wanted to get to know them. Be independent. Fall in love. Make mistakes. But she couldn’t see when that might happen. For now, she would have to be happy with books.

  In the morning, Kurt arrived home in a new twin-cab, four-wheel drive ute. He parked it in the lane behind the shop, the shiny silver paint job glittering in the sun. Miki was stunned. They didn’t need a new car—the other ute had been less than two years old and still in good condition. Aren’t we saving for a farm? she wanted to say, but she was too afraid of his anger. From the kitchen she watched him fuss over a few squashed bugs on the windscreen. The new ute had yellow fog lights and a bullbar almost as big as a truck’s. What did Kurt think he was going to plough into with that? And how much had the ute cost, enough for a deposit on a farm?

  He was keen to take the new car up to the forest to try it out on dirt tracks, and Miki was invited because who else was there for Kurt to show off to? He drove fast, testing the steering and tyre grip around corners, while she sat quiet and still in the passenger seat. When he whooped and hollered and slapped the steering wheel, she smiled to appease him. But inside she felt ill. He should not have spent all their money.

  He swung onto their usual side road, and they hadn’t gone far when they came to a sign: Logging Operations. Miki’s heart kicked. Ahead she saw open space, several four-wheel drives parked along the verge.

  Kurt drove to the sign and stopped. ‘What the fuck?’

  Miki couldn’t believe it. Beyond the sign, the landscape was unrecognisable. Where there used to be forest, a bomb might have been dropped. The tall trees and spreading ferns were gone, and now there was only wide-open space and white sky. The ground had become a rubbish-tip of stripped bark and broken branches, leaves wilting in hummocky piles. The air was heavy with crushed eucalyptus and freshly churned dirt.

  Miki was devastated. Everything had been normal last week, but now her haven had been converted from peaceful trees to ruin. Part-way up the hill, she could see the perpetrators: two huge growling machines that crawled around, knocking down trees. As she watched, the falling-machine grasped a tree with a mechanical claw and cut through the trunk as easily as a knife through cheese. Miki felt as if she’d been cut in half too. She shuddered as the tree whooshed to the ground with a thump. The machine topped and tailed it like a carrot before the skidder took over, skimming off the side branches and dragging the tree down the hill, revving and clanking as it grumbled over mounds of debris. It was appallingly fast: in a matter of minutes, a tree had become a log. The machines would eat their way through the forest until nothing was left.

  Further along the road, Miki saw Robbo’s truck parked on a recently bulldozed landing. He was supervising as a loader stacked logs onto the tray. Way uphill, where the block steepened, the forest was untouched. Miki hoped the machines wouldn’t make it up there.

  Behind the steering wheel, Kurt sat grim-faced, staring at the wreckage. ‘Bastards,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Why are they here?’ Miki’s voice caught in her throat.

  ‘Some idiot in an office marks an X on a map, and that’s where they go.’

  ‘But there were so many old trees. How could they do this?’ She wanted to turn back time and restore the forest. This was vandalism. There was so much forest out there—why couldn’t the loggers go somewhere else? She thought of the eagles; their nest tree wasn’t far away. Would the machines knock that down too?

  Kurt drove around the sign, manoeuvring past the workers’ vehicles. Shane’s rusty ute was among them. There he was, in hard hat and safety vest, tinkering with a chainsaw at the back of his truck, a cigarette between his lips. He scowled at Kurt as they passed—it was no secret they didn’t like each other—and Kurt matched the scowl, muttering fuckwit under his breath. As Miki watched, Shane lifted the chainsaw and started uphill, stepping over the chaos of fallen branches. She remembered hearing that he cut trees on steep slopes, so the trees uphill weren’t safe. In a few weeks, the whole place would be wrecked.

  Kurt continued on in jaw-clenched silence, following the track through the clearing. The open space was a vast emptiness: sky, logging-slash and dirt. Downhill in a gully, the skeleton of a lonely tree fern waved its battered fronds and three skinny trees stood in a sad cluster, exposed to the wind. Miki saw a currawong eject skywards from the forest edge—at least something was still alive. But it didn’t give her much hope.

  As they drove away from the logging site, the shriek of machines gradually faded, but Miki felt bruised. It was only when they slid into forest again that her tension began to ease. They passed the eagles’ tree, and then it wasn’t far until they were in their beloved patch of forest where the trees closed in and shrubs scraped the car as they whipped past. Kurt was still rigid with fury. When they stopped, he leaped out and slammed his door, then yanked out his rifle and loaded a handful of ammunition. ‘Bastards,’ he spat. ‘I wish they’d piss off. I bet they’re going to log through to here.’

  Miki’s anxiety escalated. If the loggers came this far, what would happen to her favourite tree? To those men, a forest was just logs to take out on a truck. Money in the bank. Food for their bellies. A payment on a large-screen TV. Petrol in the tank. Her tree would be worth nothing because its core was rotten; they would hack it down. ‘What can we do?’ she asked Kurt. ‘Should we move the hives?’

  ‘We won’t need to worry for a while. It’ll take weeks for the loggers to get here.’

  ‘Isn’t there some way we can stop them?’

  Kurt nestled the butt of the rifle to his shoulder and swung the muzzle back the way they’d just come, tilting his head to squint through the sights. ‘I could shoot them,’ he said.

  Miki’s skin went cold. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  He lowered the gun and inspected her with cold eyes. ‘Of course I wouldn’t. We haven’t worked this hard to throw it all away.’

  What about the new ute, she thought. Wasn’t that throwing it all away?

  Kurt spent a long time i
n the forest that morning while Miki huddled in the car, fretting about her trees. Around her, the forest shifted and sighed as if nothing was different. It felt wrong that everything could seem normal here when it definitely wasn’t.

  On the way home, Kurt was grimly silent and refused to be drawn into conversation about the loggers. He disappeared into his room under the shop for an hour, then took off to Hobart in a terrible mood.

  As soon as he was gone, the knot in Miki’s chest eased. She was still feeling wretched, but she knew a way to make herself feel better. She fetched her hidden key and let herself out, sucking in a lungful of fresh air as she closed the door behind her. Being outside somehow loosened her mind. She needed to figure out what to do about the logging, and the best way to think was to walk.

  Her feet took her down past the primary school and onto the road to the forest, her pace quickening as she felt the pull towards freedom. Walking felt good. Cars whizzed by, blasting her with wind, but she didn’t mind. She liked the beat of her boots on the ground, the warmth that crept through her despite the damp cold, the fact that Kurt didn’t know where she was. She passed small green farms and houses with smoke threading from their chimneys. Dogs dashed out to bark at her, hackles raised. She avoided eye contact and carried on.

  On the crest of a hill, she heard a car coming and glanced back to see a large white four-wheel drive roaring towards her from town. Instead of passing, it slowed and stopped beside her. Miki noticed the Parks logo on the door.

  Leon rolled down the window. ‘Hey. Where are you heading?’

  ‘Nowhere in particular. Just out for a walk.’

  ‘I’m going up to the park to drop off some gear. Want a lift?’

  ‘I’m not going that far.’

  ‘That’s okay. I can drop you wherever you want.’

  Miki shook her head. Kurt would be incensed if she accepted a ride. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Have you heard anything from Dale? Have the devil’s test results come through?’