Central to Nowhere

by D. J. Blackmore

  ‘To share with the coffee?’ Ivy felt like she was out of the loop. ‘Do you like chocolate?’ she asked, bending to look into the little boy’s eyes. Michael’s face broke into a freckled grin.

  ‘Yeah, ’course I do. Everybody does, and that’s why he’s gotta go to the shops to get some, ’specially.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ But all Ivy knew was that once upon a time, Adam O’Rourke had been a dour cowboy who didn’t want to get in the ute for groceries, and the next minute he had the urge to go to town for chocolates. Then again, she supposed he wanted to spoil Master O’Rourke there in the back seat, and she couldn’t blame him for that. He had certainly waited long enough.

  ‘You take some selfies, won’t you? I’ll give you my mobile so you can take some shots to bring back for me to see.’ Ivy went to get her phone, but Adam stayed her with his hand, shaking his head.

  ‘Next time we’ll get a snap of the three of us.’

  Ivy was smiling as she waved goodbye. As she meandered slowly towards the house, she realised it was still lighting up her face.

  She glanced to her right at a movement in the corner of her eye. It was Seth. Adam had taken on the young stockman to help out, since there wasn’t a lot Adam could do around the station just then. The white-blonde worker was thin as a whip and jittery as a snake cornered in a chook shed. Nevertheless, he seemed to know what he was doing and gave Adam no cause for complaint, so Ivy supposed she was the last person who could find fault. Yet he always seemed to be where she least expected. Watching, always watching, he was as spare with words as he was with a smile.

  He slipped through into the shadows of the shed, and a frisson of wind out of nowhere finger-combed the length of her hair. Dry, boned branches beneath her boots snapped the silence of the summer evening to the old Queenslander. She felt like she was still being watched.

  Ivy glanced back towards the shed. Silly to be unnerved—all because Adam and Michael weren’t going to be home until well after dark. A breeze flipped a tendril of hair over her eyes as she walked. Ivy drew it back into a severe pony tail.

  Ivy closed the screen door against the dust. Inside, the cool of bare boards held out the heat of the setting sun. Wide high ceilings and ornate rails in the hallway shone lanky shadows high up on the walls.

  She would watch the sunset with a glass of iced tea on the shaded verandah. Ivy opened the fridge and looked up at a knock at the door. Setting down the jug, she walked to the hallway. But it was just the door tapping with the insistent breeze. She went to lift the latch and set it in place.

  The phone shrilled. It jingled her nerves, but it was only a ringing telephone. Nothing more than that; certainly not something to startle at. She walked into the front room, picked up the receiver from the cradle to hear her mum’s voice.

  Sydney sounded like it came from just next door, even though it was a good sixteen-hour drive away. It was nice to hear her mum’s voice and Ivy curled up on the couch for a chat. The crimson wallpaper and patterned rug were welcoming, and she made herself at home in Adam’s family room.

  Mum didn’t understand her need to remain at all. ‘What do you mean, you’re staying on?’

  ‘I’m going to stay at least until the end of the summer.’

  ‘But, Ivy, whatever for? You said there was nothing for miles. If there are hardly any houses and next to no people, I really don’t see why you’d want to hang around. Autumn is just around the corner and that’s your favourite time of year. Grass is hard to find there, I’m told, never mind deciduous trees. You’ll find a job here at home eventually. Something you really like. You could always do my ironing.’

  ‘I don’t really like ironing, Mum,’ Ivy laughed. ‘Think I want to stare at four walls, standing on my feet? That’s super hard work. Besides, you already have an ironing lady.’

  ‘Be my housekeeper, then,’ her mum offered.

  ‘And you have one of those too,’ Ivy reminded her.

  ‘I can easily fix that.’

  ‘Mum, I’m just getting settled in here. And you know what? I like it. I like it a lot.’

  ‘Well, don’t you get yourself too comfortable. I don’t want my daughter traipsing after crocodiles in some swamp.’

  ‘Mum, it’s a cattle station. There are no crocodiles around here. They live out in the coastal waterways.’ She didn’t mention that the Fitzroy River ran through the nearest town.

  ‘I saw a picture of one sunning itself on the beach.’

  Ivy laughed. ‘Yeah, how cool is that?’

  ‘Doesn’t sound remotely cool to me. Lots of people love the thought of the Australian outback, but it doesn’t mean you’ve got to go and turn wild on me. And here you’ve gone and blown your fare home.’

  ‘Adam said he’d pay for another ticket.’

  ‘I should hope so. He’s not the first man to break a leg, you know, and you wouldn’t be the only person able to help around the place. I don’t know why he couldn’t just go and get someone else to give him a hand.’

  ‘He has. Put on a new guy.’

  ‘It’s just that I worry about you. I don’t know what happened with you and that guy you were seeing a while back. Seems like you just wanted to run off.’

  I did.

  ‘Mum …’

  ‘Okay. Okay, but just remember that you live in the polished part of the country. And don’t forget to hold that rude employer of yours to his promise. But, more than that, don’t get on a horse there. Any horse, for that matter. That’s why we have cars these days. They make less mess, and you can put on a seat belt before you drive away.’

  Ivy giggled. ‘Mum, when I do head back, I’ll tell you everything about my working holiday here from beginning to end. You’ll be the first to know. We’ll go and have coffee and get our hair and nails done.’ The promise soothed her mum somewhat. Ivy heard a sigh on the other end of the phone, as Cynthia relaxed at the thought of retail, coffee and cake.

  But Ivy didn’t know when she’d be ready to travel back to the city, if ever, because something about Capricorn Station had moved right in. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the country after all, but with the man who owned the length and breadth of a whole big patch of dirt from heaven to the horizon.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Adam glanced in his rearview mirror, as they rolled over the cattle grid, at the kid in a fluorescent afro, his face sticky with fairy floss. This was his son. He wondered how he’d ever lived before Michael had come home and Ivy had come along. He wondered just how he could love a child so completely, when he hardly knew him at all? That was the mystery of being a parent, he supposed.

  A big box of Malteasers lay on the front seat. He had rescued them from Michael’s enthusiastic clutch. The kid had tampered with the box until he had the cellophane off. Adam pulled up out the front, surprised that the lights were all out. When he was a little fella, the coloured panes of glass had reminded him of Cadbury’s Snack Chocolate—in colours of orange, pineapple and Turkish delight. Now, under the light of the moon, the only colour was Michael’s curly rainbow of hair.

  He stood looking down at Michael, glancing up at the steep stairs. He hated to wake his son up, but there was no way he could negotiate a five-year-old, a pair of crutches, and a box of chocolates up them. The crutches leant against the car door. He’d had about enough of them, and sighed as he snatched them up.

  ‘Wake up, mate. I can’t carry you up the stairs. I’m sorry, buddy. You’ll have to walk.’

  Michael stirred and slid out of the car. Even in this light, the wig was bright enough to vie with the light of the moon. Michael trotted sleepily in front of him, up the steps.

  ‘Grab hold of the banister, Michael, just in case you fall.’

  The small pale shape of Michael’s arm came up to grab hold. Adam hauled himself up the steps behind Michael, wary in case his sleepy son should fall.

/>   ‘Do I have to clean my teeth tonight?’

  Michael knew his dad was pretty firm regarding that particular habit. Adam sighed. ‘Rinse your mouth out with water, at least. You can do them first thing.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Inside the dark house, he hovered over Michael, covering him with the sheet as he fell onto the bed. Adam kissed his cheek. He inhaled the precious warmth, the smell of sugar and little boy, before straightening to take up the coveted box of Malteasers.

  ‘I love you, Michael.’ His voice sounded bare in the quiet house. His heart was naked but he didn’t care. Michael had come home. But his boy was silent, already asleep.

  He was disappointed not to have been able to sit down and share coffee with Ivy, but it was late, later than he had first realised. He smiled at the thought of her, doubtless snoring in bed. Malteasers rattled in the box along with the silent chuckle in his chest.

  A noise from the darkened front room made Adam stop dead, and before he could think to act, someone shoved past him, forced open the screen door and ran pell-mell down the verandah steps. Adam teetered with his crutches like a big top before he came down, scattering a cacophony of bouncing Malteasers, and falling flat on the bones of his backside in the darkness.

  Adam pulled himself up as the sound of a car screeched off into the night with its lights off. Where had the vehicle been parked? He opened the screen door and limped to peer out into the night, but over the top of a distant car engine, only the sounds of crickets and the occasional kiss of a gecko disturbed the silence. Adam groped for a light-switch, then another and another.

  Michael was just where he had left him. Adam took some deep breaths then made for Ivy’s door. He listened, but there was nothing to be heard. He spun in a flurry of panic and opened the door, craning his head inside. A soft snuffle, and then an open-mouthed sigh met his ears.

  There was nothing to suggest that someone had stolen into the house. Only the shiny brown Malteasers rolling around the floor—that and the gallop of his heart inside his chest. Resting up against the wall, he tried to bring his heartbeat back to a trot.

  Adam hobbled into the kitchen, trying to take in what had just happened. He’d never feared a break in, not until this. But he wasn’t afraid for his own safety. His concern was for Michael and for Ivy. They were his priority right now. They could have been hurt.

  On the table sat two coffee cups and a Bunnykins mug. It was a long time since he’d seen that particular piece of china. He picked it up, and as he wondered which cupboard Ivy had found it in, his mind was speeding down the road in pursuit of the intruder’s car.

  In the middle of the table sat an old Vegemite glass. She had put a few sprigs and fern fronds in it. If he had wondered whether Ivy did ‘romantic’, well, he supposed he had his answer. Maybe it was time to step up to the plate. Let her know he didn’t want her here just for the summer.

  Adam clomped down the stairs one at a time, eased himself into the car and turned on the lights and ignition and drove it around to the shed. They hadn’t taken any money. That was already gone.

  He didn’t want to tell Ivy about someone creeping around inside the house because he didn’t want to scare her. Should he involve the coppers? That wouldn’t do much with the evidence he had. They’d dust the balustrade for fingerprints and then that would be it, only he’d be left with one frightened woman and a round-eyed little boy.

  Adam secured the car and then stopped. He wondered where Lawson was. Why the dog hadn’t barked, puzzled him. He always gave a yip to say hello when Adam arrived home. Yet if there had been intruders, why hadn’t Lawson made a racket? Perhaps he had. The way Ivy snored, she probably wouldn’t hear anything beyond her bedroom door.

  For the first time he questioned the sense of having the men quartered in the old shearing shed. It had been renovated long after his parents had given up sheep for cattle, but tonight he wished the three men had been a little bit closer to the house.

  It was then that he saw Lawson—a darker shade amidst tack and barrels. His four-legged mate wagged his tail. Adam negotiated his crutches around farm implements to switch on the light.

  Grey grizzled the muzzle, age dulled the rheumy eyes, but Lawson could cut out cattle like nobody’s business. Every muster, Lawson was there. Every round of the property, Lawson came along, either on the quad, or running along behind. But damned if the animal was worth his salt as a watch dog.

  ‘You don’t get up for anything these days unless it involves rounding up the cattle, do you, mate? If you could talk, I’d ask you what is your favourite thing to do. But don’t worry, I already know it. Sleep. Am I right?’

  The dog had closed his eyes again.

  ‘You just get another forty winks. I can see that you’re tired. But before I go, let me tell you something you’ve probably heard before. You’re the worst excuse for security I’m yet to come across.’

  Adam bent down awkwardly to ruffle the dog’s stiff old ears. ‘I’ve just had an epiphany,’ he grinned and nodded his head. ‘I can’t believe I never thought of it before. You’re deaf!’ But then Lawson opened one lazy eye. ‘If only partially, but let’s just stick with that story,’ Adam was wry. ‘Sounds more loyal, right?’

  Lawson’s tail thumped slow and heavy on the concrete floor. Adam turned out the light and listened. Nothing, there was no sound for miles. Everything was quiet. Just how he liked it. But a stranger had been on his land uninvited in the cover of night, and he wondered again who they were, and what did they want?

  Ivy was in the kitchen, stifling a yawn as she boiled the kettle.

  ‘You want coffee?’ She had a sleepy smile and was none the wiser to anything that had gone on. She was a dream in pale blue shorty pyjamas and his heart leapt over a few beats. He wanted to hold her close, to kiss her lips, but instead he stood like one of those open-mouthed clowns begging for ping pong balls at a show, shaking their heads like, Well, I never. Well, I never.

  And he hadn’t.

  He hadn’t ever seen a woman look so lovely that it ached.

  It did now.

  Ivy was at his side, close, way too close for safety; his safety, if not her own. She smelled like Sunlight soap. It was distracting. He needed to think.

  ‘Adam? Coffee? Yes, or no?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you. Coffee, that would be nice.’

  Pretty please, sugar on top.

  There were fireworks going off inside his brain. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He was glad she had no idea of the cracker display she was setting off. He moved away. His good foot skated on a couple of Malteasers just before the peg leg of the crutch crushed them on his way through.

  ‘There’s chocolate spread all over the floor.’

  His mind did a backflip. He heard the words ‘spread all over the floor’ and turned around to stare in horror. How could she have read his thoughts? He followed her eyes to the fallen chocolates here and there, and nodded dumbly. ‘Oh, yeah, I did it. I dropped them. Meant to pick them up. I’ll do it later.’

  ‘No, that’s fine. I’ll sweep it.’

  Adam mulled the situation over in his mind. To tell or not to tell, that was the question right now. If he told Ivy what had happened, she might panic. She’d be afraid, at the very least. He was still shaken, he had to admit. He tried to think of anyone who had a grudge against him, but was clueless. It was then that he noticed the bureau was open, the drawer flung aside. He picked it up, frowning, and wondered how many people besides Rachael knew where he kept his cash.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘I’m heading back up to bed. You should probably go and get some sleep, too.’

  Adam nodded and turned towards her. ‘I’m deliriously tired, but my mind is working overtime.’

  ‘Still hyped up on fairy floss?’ She grinned.

  ‘I did have a taste or two. It probab
ly isn’t a good idea but I’d love another cuppa right now.’

  ‘I can do that. Sleep can wait. You want company?’

  ‘Only if it’s yours.’ He cast a glance sideways at her.

  ‘Well, if you’re not going to go to bed, then I’m not either. No way I’m going to let some cripple show me up.’

  Their laughter gurgled above the water running from the tap. It bubbled up between them, bright as the fluorescent light above their heads.

  ‘I bought you some chocolates but they’ve gone way past the ten-second rule.’

  ‘Ten-second rule …’ She giggled. ‘So how did you manage to drop them all over the floor?’

  Adam opened his mouth and then closed it, considering his words as he spoke.

  ‘We had an intruder in the house. I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t want to scare you, but I don’t want to keep anything from you, either.’

  ‘A burglar?’ Her voice rose to cockatoo pitch.

  He tried to shake it off. ‘Yeah, but there was nothing to take. Rachael made sure of that.’

  Ivy frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘When she left here, she told me she owed people some cash. Fool that I am, I told her she could take the amount she wanted, but she ended up taking the lot. Over two thousand dollars. Two grand and she sold her son. She gave up Michael for a pitiful two thousand bucks.’

  ‘I’m sure she can’t mean to do that. She’s his mum, after all. What if she does come back, though? What then?’

  ‘She won’t be taking my son away from me again.’

  Ivy took the empty coffee mug from his hand. He reached out with his other, pulling her towards him just enough to detain her walk to the sink.

  ‘I don’t want you to leave the door unlocked in future. Promise me you’ll always keep the doors locked when I’m not here. Even if it’s during the day.’

  Ivy nodded. ‘I think you’re more worried about intruders than you like to appear.’

  ‘I wasn’t until tonight. I’m just being cautious, that’s all. Don’t want to give an open invitation. What if they come back again?’