The Orchardist's Daughter

by Karen Viggers

  ‘We’re out of money again,’ she was saying. ‘Why’s that, Shane?’

  ‘Dunno. You must be spending it.’

  ‘Rubbish. Look at you with your beer. Pissing it up against the wall.’

  ‘I work my arse off all week. Man’s gotta wind down.’

  ‘How am I going to pay the bills?’

  Max didn’t know what they were on about. They said they had no money, but they were always buying cigarettes. Mobile phones cost heaps too, and Mum and Dad both had one, so they couldn’t be broke.

  ‘Where’s all the money gone?’ Mum said. ‘You still haven’t told me.’

  ‘Bought a round of scratchies this week. I was feeling lucky.’

  ‘You blew it on scratchies? What a waste.’

  ‘I put a hundred on a horse too. Tip from Toby.’

  ‘Did it pay up? Bet it came stone fucking motherless.’

  Dad was quiet. Then he said, ‘I’d had a shit day, darlin’, and I was trying to cheer myself up.’

  Mum wasn’t having it. ‘What sort of shit, Shane?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard? Greenies took photos of the site we’re working on and they must have reported it. They found a wedgie nest up there and the department has stopped us logging till they can sort it out. The department stuffed up. They should’ve known about the nest.’

  Max liked wedgies. They were cool birds. Maybe Dad would take him up there to see them.

  ‘Did you know about the nest?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Yeah, I saw it when we first started logging the site. We shouldn’t have been there. I thought about reporting it, but it’s not my job. That’s what those government bastards are paid for.’

  ‘Where are they going to send you instead? Have they got another site lined up?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘I hope they keep paying you. We have to eat, and there’s nothing in the bank.’

  Max had noticed the dog food in the shed was getting low too.

  ‘Time to get rid of those pups,’ Dad said.

  Max tensed. He hadn’t found homes for them yet.

  Now it was Mum’s turn to go quiet. ‘I don’t think we need to do that yet, Shane,’ she said, more gently. ‘They give the kids so much pleasure.’

  ‘We can’t keep them forever.’

  Max felt sick. He’d stopped washing the dishes, and Mum called out, ‘You finished yet, Max?’

  ‘Nearly.’ He slopped water over the last of the plates and shoved them on the rack. He needed to check the pups again.

  They were fine. Still six of them, all curled up with Rosie.

  When he went back inside, Mum was drying Suzie in the bathroom and Dad had disappeared somewhere. In the lounge room, Max saw Dad’s pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. He could hear Dad in the loo. Holding his breath, Max opened the packet, took three out and shoved them in his pocket. His heart was thumping like mad, but luckily the pack was almost full, so hopefully Dad wouldn’t notice.

  He’d done it! Tomorrow he could give those cigarettes to Jaden and it would be over with.

  At recess next day, Max was tugging his playlunch out of his bag when Jaden grabbed him by the arm, shoved him against the lockers and snarled, ‘Have you got them?’

  That wrecked the rest of the day for Max—he was so scared he couldn’t do his work in class. He kept thinking about what would happen if he got caught giving cigarettes to Jaden. But he had to, or Jaden would bash him.

  After school, he went behind the toilets where Jaden and Callum were waiting. ‘So,’ Jaden sneered, ‘did you bring matches?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Luckily Max had thought of that. He gave Jaden a box of Redheads he’d taken from the fireplace at home. Then he produced the smokes from his pocket. ‘One each,’ he said, handing them out. They were a bit squashed, but Callum seemed to think he was cool.

  Jaden took the best cigarette and put it between his lips. Then he tried to light a match, breaking six before he managed to get a flame. ‘Crap matches,’ he said. ‘Get better ones next time.’

  Max knew there was nothing wrong with the matches: Jaden was just useless at lighting them.

  ‘This is how you do it,’ Jaden said. ‘You’ve gotta suck as you bring the match up so the smoke catches alight.’

  Jaden was dragging on the smoke like an expert, and the tip of the cigarette went red. But then Jaden started choking. Max almost laughed, but stopped himself just in time.

  Then it was Max’s turn. He was worried he would cough too. It couldn’t be that hard; he’d seen Dad and Mum do it a thousand times. Sticking the next-best cigarette on his lip, he lit a match. He was good at matches because Mum let him light the fire at home. In front of Jaden, he squinted his eyes, trying to look pro. Then he made the match touch the cigarette, concentrating hard so his hand wouldn’t wobble. He was nervous. The cigarette hissed and he sucked on it a bit, but kept the smoke in his mouth without pulling it into his lungs. The tip of the cigarette went red and smoke came out of his mouth. It was like he was on fire on the inside.

  Jaden was watching him. ‘Hey, why aren’t you coughing?’

  ‘He’s a natural,’ Callum said, excited.

  Jaden was pissed off. He kept looking at Max, waiting for him to cough. ‘You’re not doing it properly.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Callum said. ‘Look at all the smoke coming out of his nose.’

  Max stayed cool. When he finished the cigarette, he chucked it on the ground and squished it in the dirt with the toe of his shoe, like Mum and Dad did. Then he picked up the stub.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jaden said.

  Max gave him a look and said, ‘I’m going to chuck it in the bin. If the teachers find it, we’re dead.’

  He was ready to go home, and he thought it was over, but Jaden gave a twisted smile and said, ‘More.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Max asked.

  ‘I want more smokes.’

  ‘What if I can’t?’

  Jaden grinned. ‘You will.’

  Max felt sick. Every time he tried to steal smokes it would get harder. And if he couldn’t get cigarettes, Jaden might hurt the pups. He would have to find homes for them fast. But what if the bullying didn’t stop when the pups were gone? What would he do then?

  16

  The men were calling the closure of the logging coupe a complete fucking disaster. Miki heard them going on about it in the shop. At first, there were rumblings and whisperings. Then the real action started on Friday when Robbo came in after work. Normally on Fridays, he went straight home to have dinner with his wife Trudi before going down to the pub. This afternoon he parked his truck in the street, defying the rules, and strutted into the shop to meet Toby, Mooney and Shane. They ordered a large serve of chips and sat at a table, obviously settling in for a chat. Kurt mumbled something about wanting them gone but, after he’d taken their money, he went out the back to do paperwork. A wise move, Miki thought. He wasn’t always wise when it came to avoiding conflict with customers.

  While she cooked the order, Miki listened to the men talking, which was tricky over the hum of the exhaust fans and the hiss of the oil. Robbo’s voice was easiest to hear, deep and resonant. ‘Forest wars are on again,’ he said. ‘And all because of some fucking birds.’

  ‘The wars never stopped,’ Toby said. ‘This mob have always been out to get us.’ He was in a T-shirt as usual, arm muscles popping so that his tattoo-snake seemed to be writhing.

  ‘Wedge-tailed eagles, eh?’ Mooney scoffed. ‘We should go out and shoot them.’

  ‘They’re protected,’ Robbo said. ‘We can’t shoot them or the department will come down on us like a ton of bricks.’

  ‘We could knock the tree down,’ Mooney said. ‘Nest destroyed. Problem solved. Shane, you’ve got a chainsaw.’

  But Robbo wasn’t having it. ‘Mate, they’d know it was us. We just have to wait.’

  ‘Where are they going to send us instead?’ Shane asked. ‘I can’t wait six weeks for a decision
. I’ve got kids to feed.’

  ‘Who fucking knows?’

  ‘They’ll have to pay compo, but that could take months to come through.’

  ‘We need to hold a meeting,’ Robbo said. ‘Get everyone together on this.’

  ‘We’re already together,’ Mooney said.

  ‘Sure, but we need a plan. We have to make noise. This eagle nest will be all over the internet and the newspapers, and it’ll be conservationist views. We need to put our case. Stand up for ourselves. Get some heads to roll. The department fucked up on this.’

  ‘What do we do? Start a Facebook page? Email the newspaper?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe. But who’s going to do it? I’m no bloody good at technology.’

  ‘I’ll get Steph onto it,’ Toby said. ‘She’s better at that stuff than me.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ Shane said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m no good at English.’

  ‘You can talk, can’t you?’ Robbo said. ‘That’s English.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘What about the pollies?’ Toby said. ‘Should we email them too?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Robbo said. ‘And I’ll think about a meeting. We can hold a rally in the main street and block it off to traffic. Get a loudhailer. Tip off the media and get some coverage.’

  ‘“Loggers Strike Back”!’ Shane said. ‘I can just see the headlines. We’ll be a household word.’

  The men guffawed then looked glum.

  Miki lost the thread of their conversation while she checked the chips in the fryer. When she glanced back, she noticed the men had fallen silent. Then Mooney spoke, a hint of menace in his voice. ‘Who do you reckon dobbed us in?’

  The silence lengthened, and Miki accidentally locked eyes with Robbo. The men were looking at her. Did they think it was her, or did they think Kurt was guilty? She tensed.

  Mooney started pushing back his chair. ‘If you think it was him, I’ll have him now. Take the fucker down on his own territory.’

  Miki edged towards the rear door in case she needed to warn Kurt, but Robbo had placed a restraining hand on Mooney’s arm. ‘Calm down, you crazy bastard. We don’t know who it was.’

  ‘Who else goes up there?’ Toby asked. ‘Didn’t you say you saw the two of them driving through a few days ago?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not convinced it was them. The girl’s not a troublemaker, and neither is he. Apart from being a bastard, have we had any issues with him this past year? No.’

  ‘Who then?’ Shane asked. ‘Parkie?’

  Miki was worried she might have got Leon in trouble, but Robbo was shaking his head. ‘Nah. He doesn’t do much more than track maintenance and toilets, from what I’ve heard, all up in the park. Nobody’s seen him snooping around. It was probably greenies, or a tourist having a poke around off the road. Maybe some birdwatchers.’

  ‘What do we do then?’ Toby asked.

  ‘Nothing for now.’

  ‘We could keep cutting the forest,’ Shane suggested.

  ‘Then we’d have greenies on our backs and a big fucken demo on our doorstep,’ Robbo pointed out.

  ‘Since when has that stopped us?’ Mooney said.

  ‘Never,’ Robbo agreed. ‘But I say we should let sleeping dogs lie for now. It’s the department’s job to find us somewhere else to log and they have to do it fast. Maybe they’ll set out a buffer round that tree and let us back in.’

  ‘Not likely,’ Shane said gruffly. ‘There’s a lot of big trees in there. When they have a closer look, they’ll pull us out for sure.’

  ‘You reckon it’s a breach?’ Robbo asked.

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Why can’t you just knock the trees down?’ Mooney said. ‘You’ve already skittled heaps of them so they won’t know what was there.’

  Robbo snorted. ‘Except for all the massive cut stumps poking out of the ground. Ever heard of satellite photography? Greenies can look that stuff up on the internet and count the trees from the photos.’

  ‘We’re fucked then, aren’t we?’ groaned Shane.

  Miki lifted the order from the fryer, drained it and tipped it out onto paper. She’d been so busy listening, it was a bit overdone and she hoped the men wouldn’t notice. Nervously, she doused the chips in salt, wrapped them, then carried the parcel over and put it on the table. She hadn’t added extras today because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. A gift might be read as a peace offering and taken as proof of guilt.

  ‘Ta, love.’ Toby fired a wide grin at her and swiped a broad hand bashfully across his bald head. ‘Best chips in town.’

  ‘Only chips in town,’ she said.

  Toby laughed as she slid back behind the counter, and Robbo continued as if she wasn’t there. That was good, Miki thought, because obviously they didn’t suspect anything.

  ‘I heard they might send us south down Cockle Creek way or back up north near Maydena,’ Robbo was saying.

  ‘Who’s paying to shift the equipment?’

  ‘Guess they’ll sort that out later.’

  ‘Wendy won’t be happy,’ Shane said. ‘That’s a lot of driving.’

  ‘I still reckon we should do something,’ Mooney put in. ‘I don’t like just sitting around.’

  ‘It’s not affecting you,’ Robbo pointed out. ‘You’ve got plenty to do at the mill. Just settle down, for once. It might all blow over.’

  Mooney’s phone rang and he answered it, then cursed and hung up. ‘Liz wants me to pick up some stuff at the supermarket. Have to go.’

  Robbo wagged a finger at him. ‘Don’t you go meddling with the nest, do you hear?’

  Miki was worried about this too. Shooting the eagles or damaging the tree was something Mooney might do.

  ‘I’ve got a few ideas under my belt,’ Mooney said with a grin.

  ‘Don’t shoot the birds,’ Robbo reiterated, shaking his head. ‘Just you keep out of it.’

  Saturday morning, Liz slunk into the shop to pick up sausage rolls for her girls on the way to netball. Leon was there too, waiting for a serve of hot chips. When Liz ordered, Miki caught the waft of her perfume: sweet and slightly stringent. Liz had a graze on her forehead and couldn’t look Miki in the eye. Leon must have noticed it too, something about the gentle way he looked at Liz and stepped aside to give her space at the counter.

  As Miki slipped the sausage rolls into bags, she saw Liz trying to spread her bitty blonde fringe over the bruise, fingers fluttering nervously. A knitted beanie would cover it, Miki thought, but it would be too obvious to give Liz one for free. Instead, she slipped three Caramello Koalas into another bag and handed them over with the sausage rolls, hoping to give Liz a little bit of pleasure later in the day. She deserved it for putting up with Mooney.

  17

  Tuesday, grey clouds sank over town, seeping rain. Home alone, Miki sat in the shop watching raindrops weep down the windows. Hardly anyone was about, and those who had to be out were huddled under umbrellas, heads bowed against the wind-driven downpour. Despite the weather Miki was keen to get some fresh air, so she retrieved the key and unlocked the back door. Weeks had passed now without Kurt mentioning anything and she’d begun to relax.

  Before going outside, she fetched Far from the Madding Crowd from its hiding place in her bedroom. It was too wet for a walk so she settled on the visitor centre. If Geraldine was there, they could talk books.

  Geraldine was crouching by the wood fire, feeding logs into its belly. When she saw Miki, she clambered to her feet, grimacing, and brushed sawdust from her trousers. ‘Knees aren’t what they used to be.’

  The pot-bellied stove rumbled as wind whipped the smoke from the flue. Geraldine turned her bottom to the fire and swung slowly back and forth, warming herself.

  ‘Cold in here,’ Miki said. ‘Not good for your bones.’ She remembered how stiff Mother used to be in winter. Miki had heated hot water bottles for her, and knitted extra-long pairs of thick socks, but nothing had worked with su
ch bad arthritis. Operations had never been discussed, and yet Miki knew from talk in the shop that knee replacements might have been a solution. Isolated as they were on the farm, options from the outside world hadn’t been contemplated.

  ‘It’ll warm up once the fire gets going,’ Geraldine said.

  ‘Leave the stove door open a little,’ Miki suggested. ‘That’ll help it draw.’

  ‘I’m not much good with fires,’ Geraldine said. ‘I’ve got a gas heater at home. It runs off a big bottle out the back. Gas is more efficient than wood, but wood’s cheaper.’ She limped to her desk and sat down. ‘Terrible weather, isn’t it? Not good for tourists. They all hide in this rain, and who can blame them? I wouldn’t want to go sightseeing in this. I’d rather stay home with a book.’

  Miki put Far from the Madding Crowd on the desk.

  ‘Oh.’ Geraldine’s smile lines crinkled. ‘Did you read it?’

  ‘Yes. I loved it.’

  ‘I thought you would. What did you like about it?’

  ‘I liked that it was set on a farm in the countryside.’

  ‘Hardy’s Wessex. It’s just like here in the winter—very rainy. But lush and green in spring. You’d like to live on a farm?’

  ‘My family used to have an apple orchard.’

  ‘That must have been lovely. I’ve never lived on the land, but I’ve always thought it must be a great way of life. The rhythm of seasons and weather.’

  Miki nodded. ‘Father used to say everything had its time. Pruning and grafting in winter. Training and spraying in spring and summer. Harvest in autumn.’

  ‘Did you have sheep like Gabriel Oakes?’

  ‘We had some for a while, to graze in the orchard. But dogs got them and Mother was upset.’

  ‘As you would be. Any poddy lambs?’