The Shearer's Wife

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘Then there were the motorbikes at the back of mob and burly stockman who’d sit on them, smoking a rollie, calling to the dogs. I could hear their short, loud, sharp whistles even from up the windmill.’ He stopped and looked at Zara. ‘You want another drink?’

  Oh, she did. But she didn’t want the headache tomorrow.

  ‘Why not,’ she said recklessly, smiling at him as he collected their glasses and took them back to the bar. She watched as he walked away, imagining a small boy at the top of a windmill watching the mobs come into the yards. She could see his windswept hair and large smile under a grubby wide-brimmed hat, fingers clenched white as he held on to the structure.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hissed a voice behind her.

  Courtney.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Zara said, running her fingers through her hair and shaking it out, trying to get rid of her imaginings.

  ‘You’re all over him! I’ve been watching you for the last half-hour. You haven’t even noticed me over there.’ Her tone held excitement, judgement and worry all mixed into one.

  ‘I am not!’ Zara tried to sound horrified. She had forgotten there would be people watching, she’d got so caught up in Jesse’s story and the wine. Shit. Did it look like she was trying to crack onto Jesse? The small sober, honest part of herself knew the answer.

  ‘You are. Where’s Jack?’

  Zara’s face darkened as she thought about the afternoon. ‘At home, I guess.’

  ‘Why is he there while you’re here with Dreamy Eyes?’

  ‘Long story. Long pissed-off story.’

  ‘What’s the go here?’ Courtney leaned in closer, a look of expectation on her face. ‘He has got gorgeous eyes, hasn’t he? I told you he was pretty tidy to look at.’ She wagged her finger at Zara. ‘Do not take that comment as encouragement.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m just getting his life story, that’s all.’

  Courtney raised her eyebrows at Zara. ‘Sure.’ Her tone didn’t sound like she meant it one little bit.

  ‘Here we go,’ Jesse said, putting two drinks on the table. ‘G’day, I’m Jesse.’

  ‘Hello, Jesse,’ Courtney said, putting out her hand. ‘I’m Courtney, this one’s friend.’

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Yeah, stay and have a drink, Court,’ Zara said, suddenly needing someone alongside her.

  ‘No, I can’t, thanks. I’ve got to get home.’ She looked back to Zara. ‘You probably should too. You’ve got to work tomorrow.’

  Her friend’s message was clear.

  ‘I’ll finish this and get going,’ Zara promised, hating the way everything was moving about her. She really shouldn’t be having this last drink.

  Courtney said goodbye and shot a warning glance at Zara as she left. Looking down at the table, Zara took a drink of the wine, trying to gather her thoughts. All she could feel was the heat coming from Jesse’s body.

  ‘Tell me more about your dad,’ she said, desperate for an interruption to her thoughts. Back to why she was really here. Not gawking at some gorgeous shearer who wasn’t her boyfriend.

  ‘Well, my dad loved working with stock too. He was more of a stockhand-type fella—you know, working on the station, rather than in a shearing team.’

  ‘I thought you told me you grew up in a shearing team?’

  Before he could answer, a shout came from behind her and Zara glanced over her shoulder in time to see a young bloke stagger, beer in hand, towards one of his mates. His head was down as if he were a charging bull. The target moved aside and another roar went up as he hit the wall and slid down to the floor. He held his beer up in triumph.

  ‘Never spilt a drop,’ he yelled, his smile wide.

  Zara turned back to see Jesse laughing at the incident.

  ‘You were saying?’ she asked.

  ‘Young fellas, huh?’ Jesse regrouped. ‘Now, where was I? Oh yeah. We joined the team when I was about ten. Judy and Bob sold their station after the bank foreclosed on them. They stuck it out for as long as they could, but bad seasons, low prices and high interest rates, well, they’re never a great mix.’

  ‘You must’ve been sad to leave Palcarinya.’ She stumbled over the word.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah I was, but we hooked up with a good team. That’s where I got the bug for shearing. I started off as the get-about lad. What they used to call a tar boy. If someone yelled out black wool, I’d run over there with the raddle and mark the sheep. If one had flies, I’d treat it while it was still on the board. Did all the small but necessary jobs.

  ‘For a young fella I was pretty quick on my feet and didn’t get in the way. The old blokes didn’t like when rousies and shed staff got under foot, so they liked me around the shed. It was like having a group of dads and grandfathers around. They’d tell me stories, offer advice and tease the hell out me. ’Specially when I got old enough to be interested in girls. “Ah, come on, Jesse, a young good-looking rooster like you,” they used to say, “you could have a girl in every town if you wanted.”’ He took a sip of his beer.

  Dangerous territory, Zara thought fuzzily.

  ‘And did you?’ she asked.

  ‘Have a girl in every town? Nah. I’m not like that. The nomadic lifestyle of a shearer doesn’t really make for good relationships. I just keep to myself and get on with the job at hand.’

  That’s lucky.

  Zara raised her glass to her mouth and drank the last of the wine, before gathering up her pen and paper. ‘I’d better get home,’ she said. ‘Gotta work in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll walk you,’ Jesse said. ‘Can’t have you out there at night by yourself.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. This is Barker, not Sydney. Nothing here that could go wrong.’

  ‘I would’ve thought you knew better than that, being a journalist. Which way?’ He picked up her bag and swung it over his shoulder.

  Zara glanced around, grateful to not see anyone she knew. Most of the stragglers were out-of-towners.

  ‘No, honestly, I’ll be okay. I’m only down the street and around the corner.’ She stumbled as she went to walk out through the tent opening and Jesse caught her arm, stopping her from falling.

  ‘I think I’ll walk you home. Don’t want you taking a face plant and getting gravel rash and a black eye. That would spoil your pretty face and wouldn’t look too good while you were getting around interviewing people.’

  Zara giggled at the thought. ‘Never done that before! A face plant, I mean.’

  ‘Best you don’t try it. I’ve done it a few times. Thought I’d broken my nose once. ’Nother time, I was heading home from a cut out. We’d been drinking in the shed and we walked back to the quarters. I went to brush my teeth and got all dizzy. Whacked my head on a corner of the shower on the way down. Got a couple of stitches in my cheek for my trouble.’

  ‘Oh, no! Try not to do that again. One of the blokes who ran the tyre joint in Port Augusta had that happen to him. Fell backwards at the pub. Next bloke who went to the loo found him dead on the ground. Hit his head too hard.’ Zara knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t help it. The fresh air had kicked the alcohol in even harder and she could feel herself walking unsteadily alongside Jesse.

  Casually, Jesse put his arm around her. ‘Think you need a bit of help to stay upright.’

  ‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ she blurted out.

  ‘I know. I heard. And I also just told you I don’t have a girl in every town. I’m walking you home ’cause I like to think I’m a gentleman. You’re perfectly safe with me.’

  A noise filtered through Kim’s sleep-addled brain and she woke with a start in the dark. She lay frozen in bed. Was someone trying to get into the house?

  It’d happened once before. A disgruntled criminal, whom Dave had arrested for shoplifting and assault, came for a midnight visit after he’d been released from jail. He’d hammered on their door three separate times one night, but they’d never caught him in the act. Dave had known who it was, though
he hadn’t been able to prove it. A quick chat to him the next morning had put a stop to that.

  Dave snored gently next to her, but now, other than the occasional dog bark, there was silence.

  Kim rolled onto her side and put her hands underneath her cheek. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Essie and what she must be going through. Essie in a jail cell with another two or three women, all younger, harder, crueller than the older lady could ever be. Kim had imagined one of them backing Essie against a wall, spitting at her, demanding things from her.

  Sighing, Kim threw the covers back and got up, heading out into the kitchen.

  Moonlight was filtering through clouds that raced across the night sky. Standing at the window, she sipped a glass of water, wondering what Essie was doing now. Curled up in a hard bed? Perhaps she was crying. Or maybe she was too scared to cry.

  One thing Kim knew, was that she would be thinking about Paris.

  A shadow passed under a streetlamp outside and Kim looked to see what had moved. The outline of two people, casting long shadows behind them, walked arm in arm along the pavement.

  Kim frowned and moved closer to the window. Who was …

  Zara’s familiar curls blew out in the wind, and Kim relaxed. She and Jack had obviously had a late night at the show.

  Then she looked again. Zara was with a man, but he wasn’t the right size or shape to be Jack. This man was tall, lean and walked with longer strides.

  They followed the path around the house until they stopped at Zara’s front door. Kim watched as the man put the key in the lock and opened the door, letting Zara go in first and following behind her.

  Kim stood stock-still, wondering what she’d just seen.

  Chapter 11

  The phone rang, startling Zara awake. Her first realisation was that her head hurt. Not just her head. Behind her eyes and across her nose.

  Gingerly she felt her face; it felt normal. The hurt was a headache kind of pain. A hangover kind of pain. All across her head and face.

  Oh, she had a doozy.

  ‘Shut up,’ she muttered to the phone as she reached out to her bedside table. Knocking the phone to the floor, she sat up, feeling her head throb even harder.

  ‘Oh. My. God.’ She lay back down again and closed her eyes, waiting for the thumping to subside.

  The phone became silent and Zara lay there, turning over in her mind what had happened last night.

  She remembered talking to Jesse and hearing some of his stories. She remembered him walking her home and …

  Groaning aloud, Zara sat up again and opened the drawer of the bedside table, getting out some Panadol.

  Swallowing two without water, she got up and went into the bathroom, splashed her face and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she said.

  Heat flowed through her as she remembered tripping over when she got inside and Jesse lifting her up. He had helped her to the bedroom.

  The phone rang again.

  She found it under her bed. ‘Court,’ she said in a croaky voice.

  ‘So, what happened last night?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Zara found a glass and filled it with water before making her way to her office and switching the computer on.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Courtney said doubtfully. ‘You were really flirting with him when I was there. That’s why I didn’t stay. Didn’t think you needed any company.’

  Zara was flooded with shame. ‘No, he just walked me home. Made sure I got here okay. Nothing happened. I told him I had a boyfriend.’

  ‘That doesn’t stop some of them.’

  ‘He’s a real gentleman.’ She clicked on her email and waited for the messages to download.

  ‘Ha! And they all pretend that too. You’re telling me he didn’t even try to kiss you?’

  Zara was quiet, searching her memory. His gentle hands on her body, lifting her legs onto the bed and covering her up with the doona.

  ‘No. No kiss. No nothing. He made sure I was safe and then he left once I was in bed. God, I can’t believe I did that. I haven’t had a blow-out like that since Will died.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Zara said quietly. ‘I know nothing happened.’

  ‘What about Jack?’

  Tears pricked at Zara’s eyes. ‘I don’t even know why I did what I did! I love Jack. I was just so angry with Dave and him that I blew everything out of whack.’

  There was silence on the line before Courtney said, ‘You never talk about Will.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about him. It’s too hard. Brings up too many memories.’

  ‘Maybe you need to.’

  Zara saw a message from Lachie and clicked to open it, answering at the same time. ‘I’ll talk about him when I’m ready.’

  ‘Zara, last night was so out of character for you. There’s something else going on.’

  You were right. Lachie’s message read. Action on the granny front. Charged with possession of narcotics. Liz caught the story this morning.

  ‘Damn it!’ Zara snapped, frustration coursing through her. That should have been her story. Drugs. In Barker. Her patch. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The story I wanted to write, but I couldn’t get Dave to tell me anything about yesterday. One of my colleagues in Adelaide has picked it up.’ She ran her fingers through her hair and took another sip of water.

  Her mouth felt like she’d been open-mouth breathing for the past month.

  She heard Courtney sigh. ‘I’m worried about you. All you do is talk shop these days. Ever since Will died. It’s like you don’t want to let anyone get close.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Jack and I are close.’ Not knowing what else to do, Zara got up and paced the floor, up and back, her head pounding as she listened to Courtney talk. She didn’t agree with one thing her friend was saying.

  ‘And look at last night …’

  ‘Court, I’ve got to go. I need to follow up on this story. I’ll catch you later, okay?’ Pressing the disconnect button, Zara sat down and dropped her face to the desk, letting her phone fall to the floor. She stayed like that until her phone buzzed with a text message.

  I saw you come home late last night, are you okay?

  A carefully worded text from Kim. Great. She would have seen Jesse come inside then.

  Suddenly, all she wanted to do was run far away from Barker. Far away from where her brother had died, from his memory and all the feelings and emotions that went with his death. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

  Instead, she got up and went to have a shower. She wanted to wash away last night and avoid the thoughts of Jack and how she was going to have to tell him what she’d done before the rest of the town did.

  That was a conversation she wasn’t looking forward to.

  Her phone rang again but she ignored it as she stepped under the hot water and let the hard needle-like spray hit her face.

  The need to yell and scream was intense. Instead, a few tears trickled down her face and mingled with the water.

  ‘Why?’ she whispered, leaning her head against the tiles and closing her eyes. The image of Will lying in his bed, gaunt and pale. The shallow breathing before there was nothing. The feel of her mother’s hand on her shoulder, telling her Will was gone. The coffin at the front of the church, surrounded by his footy club friends. These thoughts followed her everywhere.

  No point in standing under the water if the memories were going to come in there with her. She turned off the taps and got out, wrapping herself in a towel and going to find her phone to see who had called.

  Dave’s name with two missed calls was on her screen.

  Forgetting about her headache, she hit redial and dropped the towel as she ran for her notebook.

  ‘Hi, Zara.’

  She could tell he was in the car.

  ‘Hi, Dave. How are you?’

  Zara heard the blinker tick down the line.

  ‘Fin
e. Just wanted to give you the heads up that Essie Carter was arrested last night for possession of narcotics.’

  Was it her imagination or was Dave being short with her? Kim would have told him what she’d seen last night, Zara had no doubt. Her breathing picked up slightly.

  ‘Yes, I heard.’

  They both breathed into a long silence.

  ‘How’d you hear?’

  ‘Colleague in Adelaide picked up the story last night.’ It was her turn to pause. ‘Do you have anything else I can use, that she won’t have?’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Zara, I apologise for the way I spoke to you yesterday. I want you to understand … the reason I didn’t tell you anything was because I don’t want Essie to come back to Barker and have everyone talking about her. She’ll find the homecoming difficult enough without gossip raging around her.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have filed the story until you told me I could. As it is, now I have no control over what the Farming Telegraph will print and what the other journo will write.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘You’ll tell me when there’s more to tell, then?’

  ‘We’re going to have to see how this plays out.’ He went on to tell her about the arraignment. ‘All of this is off the record, you understand? Once I’ve heard back about the charge and if there was the opportunity of bail, then I’ll know a bit more.’

  ‘Right. Well, thanks, Dave.’ Zara took the phone away from her ear and was about to press the button to hang up when Dave spoke again.

  ‘Are you all right, Zara?’

  ‘What? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  The sound of the blinker again.

  ‘No reason,’ Dave finally said. ‘I was just checking.’ He disconnected the call and Zara stared at the words she’d written until they blurred in front of her.

  Taking a deep breath, Zara knocked on Jack’s door. She knew he was home because the blind in the front window was open. Above all else, Jack was a creature of habit. He would close all the blinds before he went to work and open them when he came home. She knew the pot plant at the front of the house would have been watered, and whatever he was having for dinner would be sitting on the kitchen sink either defrosting or getting to room temperature so he could cook it.