‘That’s what he gets!’ His dad’s voice was raised. ‘Come near me like that again and I’ll give him what for. It’ll be a walloping next time.’
‘Now, Mr O’ Rourke, I’m going to have to give you something to help you relax,’ another nurse was telling Trevor, ‘and you’ll feel much better after that.’
Adam didn’t think the male nurse would have sounded so sweet, but then this girl wasn’t mopping urine off her head. Still, he was glad that his dad was listening to her calm, no-nonsense voice. He even took the tablet and swallowed it at her command.
The male nurse pushed open the doors on the other end of the ward, and disappeared without a word. His lips were pursed shut.
‘Trevor, what did you do?’
His mum wrung her hands. Twisted her wedding band around on her finger over and over and over again, until Adam thought he’d go crazy. Mum was looking frazzled too.
‘I didn’t want his hand under my bum. I hadn’t finished yet.’
Adam hid a tired smile as he looked down at his feet. He wondered where his father had gone, because this man was not acting like his dad. This man he didn’t know. He just had a familiar face. Adam was queasy, but it was only partly because his stomach was empty. He looked around at the other old people in the ward, and was saddened. His mum was struggling not to cry. The smell of soiled sheets and urine was acrid. Adam put a hand to his mouth and took a deep, steadying breath.
‘Come on,’ the nurse coaxed. ‘I think we’d better change your bed.’
Adam was humbled at the job the nurse did.
‘What are you doing here?’ His dad looked at Adam with suspicion.
‘I’ve come to visit you, Dad.’
‘Oh,’ and then, ‘you can’t be finished that shearing yet?’
He was about to tell his dad that that they hadn’t kept sheep on the station for years, but he saw his mum vigorously nodding her head.
‘Yes, yes, we’ve done the shearing ... been a big day. The fellas and I are knocked up.’
‘Humph, that’s shearing for you. When I’m out of here we’ll go and check out that ram. There were hardly any lambs last spring. He’s not doing his job any more. Might get another stud.’
Adam nodded. ‘For sure,’ but he had no idea what his father was on about. It had been before Adam was born, he knew that much. Doubtless the ram in question had gone to dust years ago.
Trevor let the nurse help him from the bed to sit on the seat, while fresh linen was put on the allocated bed. Dad probably didn’t even realise that it wasn’t his own bed at all. A blessing, he supposed. That word of Ivy’s fortified him.
He was thankful that his mother had brought pyjamas for his dad to wear, that he didn’t have to suffer the further indignity of wearing a tie-at-the-back hospital gown. Adam didn’t know if he could handle seeing quite so much of a man who had always been so private, so careful never to be seen even in his underwear.
‘Michael had a little accident last night, Trevor love.’
Little accident?
Adam wondered if perhaps it wasn’t just his father who was losing it.
‘Who?’
‘It was Michael, Trevor dear; our grandson.’
‘Oh, he wets the bed? I always think you should rub a dog’s nose in it. That teaches them not to do it again.’
‘I’m talking about a car accident, love, but he’s going to be all right.’
‘And who did you say that was?’
‘It was Michael.’
‘Right you are.’
Then his dad turned to Adam again. He looked through his brows to glare. They’d had a billy goat once. It used to let all and sundry know where the points of his horns were. His dad reminded him of that billy right then. A good thing they’d taken away the bed pan.
‘Here, why aren’t you out there working? Standing around all the time when you should be earning your keep?’ He pointed a finger, gave a belligerent eye. ‘I don’t pay you for nothing, you know.’
Adam took a step forward. Felt like butting horns right about then, too. His mum’s touch was enough to remind him of the place they were in, the circumstances, too.
Grace hadn’t mentioned Rachael, but then if Trevor had forgotten who Michael was, and his own son, Adam didn’t think he’d fare any better with an ex-wife. In his mum’s defence, copping this erratic behaviour on the chin day after day took gumption. But sometimes a spoonful of concrete didn’t seem to do the trick. No wonder she was crumbling beneath the weight of it.
Adam rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. He needed a shave. He needed to eat, but more than that, he wanted to take Ivy and Michael home. He had heard and seen enough in one day. More than enough, and he wasn’t the only one. There was Michael.
‘If you don’t mind, Mum, I’m going to get some dinner and then take Michael home.’
‘I’ll be leaving shortly, too.’
‘How long is Dad going to be staying in?’
‘I hoped he could go back home with me tomorrow, but now, I’m not sure when.’
His dad had calmed down. He blinked slowly, staring into space.
‘He’s good as gold now,’ she added with a hopeful chirp.
‘Mum, they’ve pumped him with tablets so he doesn’t tip his tea tray over everyone!’
She nodded. ‘I know. But he’s always had a temper on him. Adam, they’ve drugged him up to the eyeballs.’ Sadness was etched in the lines of her face.
‘I know.’
She didn’t want to hear it, but they both knew it was the truth. This change had been coming over his dad for longer than he had cared to admit. Now he couldn’t hide it from himself any more. Dad was a danger, to himself and to others, and if his mum made the decision to take his father back home, their visits would have to be when Michael was ready to deal with a granddad who could change with the drop of a hat. A cowboy one minute, and a fiend flinging chamber pots the next.
‘Bye, Dad.’ Adam put his hand out to touch Trevor on the shoulder. His dad looked vaguely back. ‘I love you, Dad.’ He looked into his father’s eyes. And if love could have cut through the wire that bound his dad, Trevor would have returned the sentiment with a look that was straight and true.
Emotion in Adam’s throat stuck like hospital food. Hard tucker to take. But then, whether you liked it or not, sometimes you just had to swallow what was good for you.
‘Adam’s saying goodbye, Trevor,’ Mum’s voice was too cheerful. He’d have to be there to pick up the pieces. He needed to be the mortar that held them together, but right then everything seemed so fragmented he could barely think. It seemed the cruel joke of nature that as he was finally able to be a father, he was losing his own.
Adam held his hands out before him, the bedrock of bones hidden by flesh and the current of his veins. One day, age would make wages with him too.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ivy sat beside Adam on their way out of town. They had been ravenous, so it wasn’t surprising that they all thought that the deep-fried chicken lunch was the best they had ever had.
Adam turned to look at Ivy. ‘I can’t believe it slipped my mind.’
‘What have you forgotten?’
Adam rubbed a hand over tired eyes.
‘Dog food—I’d forgotten it completely, and now we’re ages out of town. Not that the stock supplier is open on Saturday afternoons. What’s wrong with me?’
‘Need I remind you of all that’s happened lately?’ Ivy squeezed his hand.
‘I think I’m losing my mind.’ Adam looked alarmed. ‘Maybe I’ve got Alzheimer’s too.’
‘Of course you don’t.’ She wanted to reassure him. ‘Everyone forgets things sometimes. Is there anywhere else that sells that kind of thing?’
‘Now you mention it, we’ve not long passed the veterinary hospital. They’l
l have some there.’
Adam put his indicator on to do a U-turn and doubled back. Ivy glanced around at Michael in the back seat. He was fast asleep.
‘He’s out to it.’
‘Sleep heals,’ Ivy agreed. ‘It’s going to take time. Maybe a long time, but Michael’s going to be all right.’
Michael’s eyelids fluttered as Adam put him over his shoulder and carried him into the animal hospital. He hung over Adam’s broad chest, his sleep sound, small arms slack.
‘We just wanted to grab a bag of dry dog food. Heading out of town and realised I forgot.’
‘We’ve got some over there,’ the woman indicated. ‘It’s decent, but the price isn’t so good.’
‘Pretty sure Lawson won’t mind designer kibble for a couple of days,’ Adam assured her. He looked so tired. It had been an emotional day for all of them.
Michael stirred and Adam put him down. Moments later he was trotting around the waiting room looking at squeaky toys, collars and leads. He bent down to stare into the kitten carrier that housed three puppies.
He turned to his dad. ‘What are their names?’
‘I don’t think they’ve got any names just yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they haven’t found their forever families yet.’
Michael rubbed his eyes for a long moment. Shock had taken its toll. The boy needed bed and sleep in that order. Ivy thought he might cry.
‘He’s had a nasty shock today—been in a car accident,’ Ivy explained to the vet who had just walked out from one of the rooms.
The vet was open-mouthed. ‘Is that where you got that cut on your forehead?’
Michael nodded, gingerly touching the dressing. ‘Dad said I got war wounds.’
‘Only brave people have those,’ the vet assured him.
Michael agreed, ‘I know.’
Michael had bent down to the puppies that sat in a cage, wagging their tails. He put out a hand and smiled as they said hello with inquisitive tongues.
‘Which one’s a girl one?’ Michael asked, brushing off the accident as a thing of the past, hardly worth talking about.
‘This little lady here,’ the vet replied. ‘And these are her two brothers.’
‘I like this one. She wants to come home with us.’
Ivy glanced up at Adam who was scratching his head. He put an arm around Ivy’s shoulder to draw her close for a moment.
‘I think she would be right at home,’ Ivy suggested. Her eyes searched his, and Adam grinned even as Michael took the puppy in his arms.
The vet looked at Adam and pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.
‘Can I, Dad? Am I allowed? Please?’ Michael had already taken the round-bellied pup to the door. There was no indecision.
Michael had found the puppy her forever home.
‘I know just where she’ll want to go.’
‘And where’s that, mate?’
‘In my bedroom. She thinks that’s best.’
‘I never kept a dog inside before, Michael,’ Adam began uncertainly. ‘And we already have a dog. Lawson’s a legend.’
Adam caught Ivy’s expression and softened his stance, returning her smile. She had him roped. They both did—Ivy and Michael.
‘But I suppose she’s only tiny and doesn’t know her way around the yard. So I don’t suppose it hurts to keep her inside, at night time, anyway.’
So they picked out a collar and leash. A bowl for food and one for water. They took a bag of puppy food and signed her adoption papers.
‘It’s been an eventful day,’ Adam said, then took up a pen to sign his signature.
The vet held the door open for them, and directed his glance at Michael instead. ‘What are you going to call her? How about Black and Tan?’
Michael screwed up his face. ‘That’s two names. I only got one dog.’ He was emphatic. ‘I’m going to call her Rachael.’
‘Rachael?’ The vet asked. ‘That’s a beautiful name.’
Michael smiled. ‘I know.’
Adam grimaced. Ivy caught his look of dismay.
‘Mate, it’s really nice you want to call your puppy after your mum, but there are lots of other names that would be even better for her, don’t you think?’
‘But this dog has black hair,’ Michael reasoned.
‘How about Clancy?’ Ivy asked.
‘I don’t know. Is Clancy a girl name?’ Michael frowned.
‘Clancy can be used for a boy or girl. I think it’s a really pretty name.’
‘It suits her,’ Adam’s smile was warm. His eyes had lit up. He liked the name she was suggesting, Ivy could tell.
Michael looked up at his dad and gave the idea some thought. Then with an affirmative nod, he walked out into the dark carrying his black-haired pup.
‘Come on, Clancy. It’s home time.’
Chapter Forty-Three
Rosy had finally stopped hollering for her calf. All the other calves could still socialise with their mothers, since they were only separated by a barbed wire fence, but Rosy was the main house cow. She had been forced to stay in the house paddocks, and had made her discontent known in no uncertain terms, often and loudly.
The fine-limbed Jersey gave Adam a soft look. Her black nose shone as a long tongue licked the glossy leather of her snout. She made a noise of quiet greeting, before she turned and walked with him into the shed, hooves clip-clopping over the concrete floor. She stood swishing her tail back and forth as she waited for Adam to get her a biscuit of lucerne. Rosy might miss spending all day and night with her calf, but she loved the breakfast routine of milking time. So did Adam. It gave him time to think. Time to assess all that had gone on of late.
He was still waiting for Seth to come and get his gear. He didn’t want to have someone working at the station if they had issues with drugs. Adam wasn’t prepared to take on the repercussions of an employee that might well be dealing with addiction.
He put his head against the warmth of Rosy’s side and closed his eyes.
There were going to be some rocky days ahead between Michael, Adam and the mother of his child, but Ivy told him not to worry, that it would sort itself out.
Seth had some answers to give, and Adam wanted to hear what they were. Why had Seth been in the car with Rachael the night she had knocked on his mother’s door? What his relationship was with Rachael, Adam didn’t care. It wasn’t his business any more, but what affected his son was his business. He might never have had the opportunity to see his son alive again.
When Adam finished milking the cow, he patted her rounded side and took the steaming bucket of milk towards the house. Michael sat on the verandah playing with his Kelpie pup. If the pup helped to make Michael smile, Adam didn’t care if the animal shared the kid’s bed—at least for the time being. Maybe the boy discerned more than most people gave a five-year-old credit for. Fingers crossed, Clancy might just take his mind off all that.
‘You going to give your pup a bowl of warm milk?’ Adam kicked his boots off at the door.
‘Yep, I think she likes pikelets, too.’
Adam grinned. ‘Really? Well, I’ve never turned my hand to anything like that, but I can cook her bacon and eggs. You reckon dogs like Sunday morning fry up?’
‘More than raw bones, I reckon.’
‘Well, why don’t you bring her bowl inside and get her some milk to drink while we get Ivy breakfast in bed?’
‘Why isn’t Ivy cooking breakfast?’
‘Because sometimes Ivy deserves a sleep in, too. So instead of her running around after us, for a change, we’re going to cook breakfast for her.’
‘I could make her Vegemite on toast! I know how.’
Adam grinned. ‘Still reckon bacon and eggs is the go.’
‘She’s not going away i
s she, Dad? She’s going to stay with us.’
‘We’ll have to see, mate. I can’t make her stay.’
‘You’re the boss. Seth said you tell everybody what to do.’
‘Seth said that, did he?’
‘Yep and that you pay next to nothing. Maybe if you give Ivy lots of money, she’ll stay, ’cause Mum said that you couldn’t give her enough money to make her stay.’
‘You can give someone all the money in the world, son, but you can’t make someone love you. I guess what I had, Mum didn’t want. Love can’t be bought. And unless it’s right for Ivy, then I wouldn’t want her to stay, either.’
‘Well, since you got no money, you’d better make her a really nice breakfast.’
Michael went outside with half a bowl of frothy milk, only to come back and get one for Lawson.
‘Don’t want him to get jealous,’ Michael said.
Adam strained the remaining litres into clean bottles. He was stacking them in the fridge when the phone rang. Adam hurried out as quickly as he could to answer it—he didn’t want Ivy to wake up just yet. A hot breakfast couldn’t make her love him, but it got the day off to a fine start.
‘Adam, your dad’s gone,’ Mum said.
‘Gone? What do you mean, he’s gone?’ His heart dropped at his feet.
‘They can’t find him. He’s left the hospital and they’ve searched the place from top to bottom. Adam, where can he be?’
‘I have no idea, Mum. He’s bound to turn up. He’s probably shuffled down to another ward, or something. Or thought he’d use the toilet instead of a pan, maybe. If he’s left the hospital, you’re right in town. Someone is going to have to notice an old man getting around town in his shortie pyjamas.’
‘Adam, it’s not funny.’
‘Believe me, Mum, I’m not laughing.’
‘The police have been notified. They said the best thing I could do was go home and wait. I’m just so worried.’
The phone line went silent. He hoped that his dad was found before he got himself hurt. He realised the toll his father’s disease was taking on his mum. One thing was certain, to him at least, and that was Dad needed around the clock supervised care. But that wasn’t his call. It was his mum’s. No one could force the issue.
Central to Nowhere Page 19
