‘No, you came here to work. That means doing anything around here that needs doing.’ His words slapped her in the face. It was tit for tat. He was hard-eyed and tight-lipped. ‘I’ll knock on your door at five.’
Adam left her with a young ringer named Jack, and Ivy found that he was far easier to talk to. Jack showed her around the station, told her how many young bulls he’d dehorned, and the calves he’d had to pull as they struggled to come into the world. Said he was working towards owning his own station, his own patch of scrub. And it seemed only a few short hours later that Adam was banging on her door. Ivy scrambled out of bed with eyes half-shut.
‘What are you doing in that room?’
Ivy put a hand to the wall for support. ‘I’m looking at the stars.’
‘You’re exaggerating. Last time I checked, all the planets had gone to bed. Soon the sun will be up.’
Ivy scowled at him from her side of the door, before staggering to the bathroom to feel her way blind, fumbling for a light switch.
The bore water had a strange smell. It wasn’t until she took a mouthful, gargled and swallowed that she found it tasted even worse. She clutched her throat but it was already down. Ivy shuddered at the brackish aftertaste and grimaced. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to drop dead, she soon forgot about it and stepped into the shower. She began to sing as the warm water woke her up, muscle by muscle.
She had to hurry, but there was no way she was going to milk the cow with her hair dripping wet and snaking a trail down her back. A hasty blow dry and it was swept up into a ponytail.
Yet no matter how hard she looked, Ivy couldn’t find her new boots. For that matter, where were any of her shoes? Glancing up to the window she saw that the sky had changed colour. It was way past dawn, nearly breakfast time. Her throat tightened and her stomach knotted. She’d taken too long to shower and dress. With nothing else to slip on her feet, Ivy grabbed the shoes she had worn on the plane, pushed open her bedroom door and found her way outside.
Adam was waiting—lounging really—but was way too angry to be relaxed. He straightened up as she neared him. Ivy walked as quickly as she could to where he waited, but this season’s heels were no match for red dirt, and they sunk down to the sole.
‘You can’t be serious?’ He uttered a few choice words, some she didn’t quite get, and a few she wouldn’t repeat. She knew that ‘fair dinkum’ wasn’t meant as a compliment. He said it with as much force as the curse words he muttered straight after. He wheeled away from the sight of her shoes and walked away into the shed. Ivy found him feeding hay to the cow.
‘It’s always a good idea to put the clamp on before you start milking. She won’t be able to kick the bucket over then.’ He demonstrated how it was done.
‘She kicks?’
‘Only at people who sing at five in the morning.’
Ivy felt heat rise as her face coloured up like a school fete toffee apple.
‘You’ve never heard anyone sing in the shower before?’
‘Yeah, just not over loudspeaker.’
Ivy had always been told that if you didn’t have anything nice to say, then shut your trap. She supposed that if social niceties for country guys were about as basic as it got, then Adam O’Rourke was just your stock standard example.
Adam passed her a sodden rag. ‘You need to wash her udder well, in case she’s been sitting on her own manure.’
Ivy looked from Adam to the udder and dabbed at the swollen bag with a ginger hand.
‘What’s wrong?’ He checked the udder himself and shrugged. ‘Won’t hurt.’
Ivy grimaced at the udder. ‘Those teats are so naked. The cow is so big.’
‘There’s nothing indecent about it. She’s just a big old dairy cow needing to be milked.’
Ivy bent down as far as her shoes would comfortably allow. Problem was that while the white patent heels had looked appropriate in the confines of the airport, they seemed pretty silly now. She was about as graceful as a ballet dancer in steel-capped work boots.
‘Do you normally wear those shoes around?’ He had begun to milk his own cow, bucket at his feet.
Ivy folded her arms around herself. She felt so out of place. ‘I can’t remember where I put my boots.’
‘I saw them on the verandah by the screen door.’ He paused the milking and stared after her. ‘Now where are you going?’
Back to the city, I bet you’re hoping.
Ivy walked out of the shed with as much dignity as her shoes would allow. With every footfall that sunk into the red dirt, Ivy’s anger rose. She kicked off the heels at the door. They hit the weatherboards of the graceful old Queenslander with a satisfying crack.
Taking a deep breath and pulling on her boots, she returned to the shed to find Adam lifting a stainless-steel bucket of foaming milk that was almost sloshing over the rim.
Are you going to give up so soon?
Chapter Four
Adam sighed. He knew why he had been fool enough to take the girl on and he should have sent her home already.
From the email she had sent him, it seemed like she knew all about station life. She’d given him that impression over the telephone, too. Thought she’d grown up on some farm, from what she’d said. But that was nonsense, and he knew it. It was her looks that had made his decision easier.
More fool you.
He rested his head on the back of the squatter’s chair and sighed. Rubbing his eyes, he put his boots up, stared out at the sunset and allowed himself to relax. Content after dinner, even if it was the same plain old baked beans on toast he always cooked himself, he began to doze as the sun set.
He heard a light footfall coming up the hall and his eyes flew open. Adam’s heartbeat picked up to match the rhythm of her step.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘No, not at all.’
Yes, I do. You’re destroying my peace of mind.
Ivy sat down across from him, crossing one slim leg over the other.
Adam studied the horizon.
Ivy said, ‘I was just thinking that maybe it would be a good idea to hose the cows down before we bring them in for milking.’
‘Why?’
‘That way, when they’re secured in the headstall, they’re all clean. The manure that sticks to their tails is rank. I got hit in the face with it. Thank goodness it was dry. I thought that maybe some pet shampoo ...’
Pet shampoo? ‘Ivy this is a cattle station. Still, if you want to give the girls a wash, set and curl every time it’s your turn to milk them, don’t let me stand in your way!’
Ivy stood up. ‘What’s bothering you?’
Adam heard the tremor in her voice. He ignored it. She was not going to get to him. He sat up straight in his chair.
‘Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve never sat a horse until yesterday and seem to think that you’re on holiday at riding school. I’m no riding instructor and have no time to teach you, Ivy. I’m here to pay you for work done.’
‘Why are you getting so angry?’
‘Why? I just told you why. You came here as a jillaroo and you can’t do the work.’
‘But I’m prepared to do what it takes to learn.’
‘It takes years to learn how to ride. The blokes are already laughing behind my back.’
‘If you normally lose your composure as easily as this, I can’t say I blame them.’ Without waiting for a response, Ivy stood and walked back inside. She came out a few minutes later wearing training gear.
‘I’m going for a run.’
‘Where to?’
Ivy shrugged and waved an indecisive hand toward the far horizon.
‘That way.’
Adam stared at her. Was she off her rocker? ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘We’re in the bush.’
Ivy stood with hands on hips. She shrugged.
‘I’ll go over the cattle grid and down the road.’
He stared at her long and hard. ‘You’re not going, because I don’t want to have to send a search party out for you.’ Adam leaned back and crossed his arms decisively.
‘That would only be if I got lost.’ She sauntered past him, swinging her hair over her shoulder as she walked out into the hazy evening.
His dog Lawson got up to follow her. Adam shook his head at the animal’s disloyalty. It was on the tip of Adam’s tongue to call him back.
Adam fumed. It would serve her right if she fell in a ditch.
Adam watched her go, shaking his head. He watched as she shrunk to a small smudge that disappeared into the distance. He didn’t have time for her tantrums, and certainly not the patience. It had been a long day. He shut her out, then closed his eyes and began to doze.
Adam woke with a start. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep. Save for the lights on the verandah, the sky was dark. He blinked, staring past the dizzying show of moths and insects.
Ivy.
His spine snapped him up straight. Had she come back? Had she walked up the steps without waking him? He wondered how she had managed to pull the screen door closed on her return without a sound. The house was silent and in darkness. Adam rolled the newspaper in his hands and went to stand on the edge of the verandah.
Maybe he should knock on her bedroom door? It was almost full dark now, and she’d been gone some time. He squinted into the distance, shading his eyes from the fluorescent glow of the verandah lights. He turned toward the sound of footsteps.
‘Don’t you like wearing your glasses?’ Ivy walked onto the porch, wiping her forehead with the terry-towelling armband she wore.
He slapped the rolled up newspaper against his palm, rising to stand. ‘I don’t wear glasses. And I tell you what else I don’t wear, and that’s people thinking they can blatantly disregarded my orders.’
‘Your orders?’
Adam shook his head in disbelief, rubbed a hand along his jaw and scowled. He tried to temper his voice.
‘I’m your boss. Expecting you to follow orders isn’t an unrealistic expectation. And employees who don’t do as they are told, are out.’ He jerked a thumb towards nowhere. ‘So it might be better if you pack your bags and have them sitting by the ute after breakfast in the morning. I’ll take you to the airport, or the train station, or wherever it is you want to go. Just make sure you don’t end up back here.’
Ivy’s voice trembled. ‘I’m more than what you think of me.’
‘You have no notion what I think of you.’
She was way too pretty, and he had been lonely far too long.
Ivy seemed to ignore him. ‘I have talent and drive and I’m respected by everyone in the community, and some colonial cowboy, king of a big patch of dirt is not going to upset me.’
She opened her mouth again, doubtless to land him on his rear with some other cutting remark. She could give as good as she got. He saw her mouth quiver with fury at his dismissal. Her eyes welled.
Ivy turned away, hiding her face. She put a hand up to mask the tears that ran down her cheeks.
‘You don’t mind barbing your words, do you?’
Adam took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not trying to cut you, just a bit of plain speaking. But I shouldn’t have taken you on. I don’t know what else to say.’
‘I think you’ve said more than enough,’ Ivy shot as she walked away.
Adam rubbed a rough hand over his stubbly face. He needed a good razor, a hot shower and sleep.
A long sleep.
Adam knew cows, he knew horses, he knew men because they were so easy to understand. But women, he supposed he didn’t do too well with. After all, the woman who had promised to love, honour and obey had gone away and left him.
‘Ivy ...’
She spun around like some wild-eyed camp drafting mare. ‘You know, you’re right. I can’t ride. I don’t know foot from fetlock. Heck, I hardly know head from hoof. All right, I admit it. But at least I am eager to learn. I’m willing to say I’ll do my best, but you won’t even give me a chance!’
She did that spin again and her hair was a Palomino mane. Adam opened his mouth and promptly shut it. He blinked and scratched his head.
What just happened?
‘Ivy.’ He pulled at his collar. He shuffled his boots, all red dust with riding. He cleared his throat. How was a bloke supposed to react to drama like that? He didn’t have any words—certainly not the ones she’d want to hear. Adam was beneath the verandah spotlight, shooing an audience of bugs. But Ivy had already exited. Adam stood there alone.
Chapter Five
She had never tried to cut into acrylic fingernails before. Even with a pair of sharp nail clippers and a determined effort, it was like trying to sculpt Mount Kosciuszko with a toothpick.
Tiny pieces flew up, hitting her in the face. Chewing the nails off could well break her teeth. Yet now she had begun, she really had to keep going until the job was done.
Ivy paused to wipe her eyes. She was finished with her crying. She had cried for a full hour after she had left Adam on the verandah. To have come this far only to be told she had to go home was too much.
Dumped, again.
Her neatly repacked luggage stood at the bedroom door—a reminder of her failure. Ivy’s lip curled as she thought again of Adam O’Rourke. But the words of a sour stockman hadn’t hurt near so much as his apologetic dismissal.
His earlier sarcasm had filled her with greater resolution, but to hear him say he was sorry she had to leave, made her feel like a fool. Part of her wished she was sunning herself on the verandah of her mum’s terrace-house with coffee in hand, or anywhere but here in this vast expanse of silver grass at Capricorn Station.
Yet perhaps Adam would reconsider. High heels aside.
Once her fingernails were gone.
She believed that she had what it took to be a jillaroo. She would prove that she could cut it with the best of them. She gave the thought grudging consideration. There was no room for failure; not this time. Even if it meant climbing a learning curve as steep as a mountain, she would prove she could do it.
In the bathroom she glanced at herself in the mirror. She splashed her face with water and took a steadying breath. Then she squared her shoulders and steeled her spine. Now was the time to act. She rummaged through the bathroom drawer until she found what she was looking for. Something she had seen earlier. The bottle of acetone nail polish remover she knew would soften and strip the acrylic nails from her fingers.
Who had this nail varnish remover belonged to? The bottle was coated in dust and hadn’t been used for some time. She sat down and poured some into a soap dish, dipped her fingernails in and prepared to wait a while.
***
What was she doing in there?
Adam closed his bedroom door and sat down on the edge of the bed. He heard her opening the bathroom cupboards and drawers, scuffling around.
He pulled off his boots to flop himself down, dusty jeans and all, on top of the bed. He reckoned the bedding would need a wash in any case.
He thought he heard crying.
Yep, she’s in there bawling. Adam took the pillow from beneath his head and hid his face under it. He felt guilty. He tightened his jaw and tried to forget about it. He sure as heck wasn’t going to go and ask her if she was all right.
He’d had to put her in the spare room because it wouldn’t have done to house her in the old shearing quarters with the blokes. He sighed in irritation, knowing that if he removed the pillow from his face, he would hear her crying in the room next door. But there was only so much oxygen trapped in the memory foam.
Ivy would be leaving come tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.
He had a right to be angry. She was probably a nice girl, deep down, but that had nothing to do with it. She was like a grass seed in his sock, and getting rid of her was the only thing to do. He heard her sniffle every now and then.
Stop crying, Ivy. Go and blow your nose, otherwise I’ll never get to sleep.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside drawer and yawned. It was almost ten o’clock. Way past bed time. Adam switched off the lamp and sighed. He remembered vaguely that he was still wearing his jeans, before he fell heavily into sleep.
Only to be woken by the telephone.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock that had been his dad’s. It was the old-fashioned sort with luminous hands, and it looked like the hour said ten-thirty. Couldn’t be. No one called at that time.
‘Who on earth would ring at this hour?’ he demanded of the night, staggering down the hallway and into the lounge room to pick up the phone.
‘Hello? Hello, Ivy darling?’
Adam rubbed a hand over his face in disbelief.
‘Do I sound like Ivy to you?’ She’d know he was having a crack at her but he didn’t care one iota. He’d been fast asleep and had woken like a cranky bull.
‘I’m sorry I just expected that Ivy would answer the phone.’
Did she tell you she was going to be the receptionist, too?
‘Her mobile must have run out of charge or be switched off, so I rang the number she said she would be staying at instead. She’s there?’
‘Oh, she’s here all right.’
Not for long.
‘Well, could I talk to her or is she out with the horses?’
At this time of night?
Adam nearly snorted. ‘Well, I’m here now. I’ll see if I can get her.’
‘My name’s Cynthia, by the way,’ she introduced herself. ‘And you must be …’
‘Adam O’Rourke.’ He summoned a modicum of manners and asked Cynthia to wait on the other end while he went for her daughter.
Adam went upstairs and knocked on Ivy’s door. No reply; he tapped again, thinking he could hear something. At least she had stopped crying. Switching on the hall light, he hesitated before he pushed the door open a fraction. Adam blinked into the gloom where Ivy was curled asleep.
Central to Nowhere Page 2
