Jacaranda

by Mandy Magro

  Molly adored listening to the sounds of the earth as it awoke. It was her way of sneaking in a few minutes’ meditation before she got out of bed. Her mind was much clearer and calmer after a good night’s sleep, as though she knew which direction she was headed in. The kiss with Heath had been amazing, the thought of his lips caressing hers still sending tingles through her, rousing something deep inside her. The intensity between them at the dam yesterday intrigued her. But she couldn’t go there with him, not when Mark had just waltzed back into her life, not when it went against everything she believed in. And on top of all that, just to make matters more complicated, it was way too coincidental to ignore Mark’s surprise arrival back into her and Rose’s life. She had to see if there was any possibility of a future for her and Mark, if the spark she felt on New Year’s Eve was worth pursuing.

  Today Molly and Rose were driving the cattle over to Rob and Cheryl’s place in Malanda. Molly loved Malanda. Although it was only a ninety-minute drive it felt like another world away, and she could almost imagine she was driving through the luscious green fields of Ireland, especially in winter when it was below zero and mist covered the hills and valleys like a comforting blanket. Over in the dairy country they were blessed, with plenty of feed nearly all year round. In Dimbulah they were lucky to make it a few months after the wet season before having to buy in fodder again.

  Molly could hear Rose stirring in her room next door. She jumped up out of bed and ran in to Rose, diving under the sheets to give her an affectionate cuddle, then playing the part of the tickle monster as Rose squealed and giggled in delight.

  Hearing the commotion, David made his way down the hall, stopping in the doorway of Rose’s bedroom, a warm smile lighting up his face. He waited until their laughter subsided, watching mother and daughter together, before grabbing their attention. ‘You two kids want some chicken bum nuts on toast before you head out this morning? Grandma is making them now if you do.’

  ‘That sounds ripper, Granddad. Thanks! We’ll be out in a minute. Rose and I just need to get dressed.’

  Rose stuck her thumb up in the air. ‘Yeah, ripper, mate!’

  David chuckled. Rose had learnt that one from Rob when she was only two years old and it had stuck with her ever since.

  After eating their poached eggs and giving Elizabeth a big kiss Molly and Rose headed out to the truck with Skip cavorting at their feet. They always took him on their road trips. He’d sit between them on the front seat like he owned it. Now and again Rose would allow Skip to sit on her lap, his head dangling out the window, his tongue flapping around in the breeze like it had a life of its own. Rose would shriek when a bit of Skip’s slobber would fly back in through the window, giggling all the same.

  Under David’s direction, Molly reversed the truck up to the cattle yards until she was snugly up against the loading chute. It wouldn’t be long before they could hit the road – this mob of cattle was a calm lot, and it wouldn’t take much to get them loaded. Being herd animals, once a few climbed on board the rest would follow.

  Molly and David worked at the back of the mob, guiding the cattle towards the loading chute. Rose and Skip stayed in the truck, their two heads squashed up against the back window so they could take in all the action. Red dust filled the air as cattle filed one by one up the ramp, their bellows echoing around them. Thirty minutes later, Molly, Rose and Skip were on their way.

  As the scenery flashed past outside the truck, Molly switched on the local country-music channel. She recognised a song she liked and sang along to the radio. A road trip without country music wasn’t half as much fun.

  Rose giggled. ‘Mum, you’re way out of tune!’

  Molly playfully stuck out her tongue and laughed. ‘I reckon I should record an album. I’d make millions!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Rose said, shaking her head.

  ‘Well, how about you sing along with me? Then you won’t be able to hear how bad I am.’

  Rose thought for a few seconds. ‘Okay. But only if you put on my favourite CD.’

  Molly rolled her eyes. ‘And let me guess, hmm, that wouldn’t be Kasey Chambers, would it?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Mum! You know I love Kasey! She’s the best country singer ever!’

  ‘I think you could be right there. You’ll have to find the CD in the glove box, sweetheart. Mum’s a bit busy driving the truck.’ Molly had heard the CD countless times, thanks to Rose’s fixation with it, but at least she knew the words of every song and she’d have fun singing along with Rose.

  The sun was settling into its rightful place, high in the sky, beaming its magnificent rays down on the landscape. Everything gleamed in the dew that had fallen overnight, including thousands of spiderwebs aglow amongst the native trees and shrubs on the sides of the uneven dirt road. Molly gazed out the wind-screen, singing along with Rose and taking in the country as she drove. She was always amazed how much the scenery changed between Jacaranda Farm and Malanda, and she marvelled in its beauty every time she drove over there.

  They got to the outskirts of Dimbulah, about thirty minutes from Jacaranda Farm, waving to everyone on the roads along the way. A gesture of hello changed from the city roads to the heart of the bush, something Molly had learned about drivers in Australia. In the city, most people waved and beeped frantically if they saw someone they knew, but drive an hour inland and it was a swift wave with an effortless lift of the hand instead. Go further into the bush and a hello became a simple lift of a finger off the steering wheel; even further it was basically a dip of the head. It was a small thing, but observing little differences like this between town and country people amused Molly. She wondered if anyone else even noticed. The small town of Dimbulah was bustling as locals ran their errands. Some people were picking up essentials from the local store and checking their mailboxes – the postman was totally unheard of in their parts – while others stood in the street yarning to neighbours, whom they had probably not seen in a week, given the long hours they had to put in with their crops and livestock, and the distances between properties.

  Rose waved out the window to old Bluey, who was sitting on the park bench in front of the town’s only bank. It was his daily ritual to sit in that very spot, enjoying the sunshine and watching the goings-on. He was a lovely bloke, and Molly felt sorry for Bluey. The only place he wanted to be was on the land, but he had to be near a hospital due to failing health. He loved pulling out his black-and-white photos from the good old days when he was a ringer. These days Bluey had to live between four walls instead of out on the land in his swag. Old age had made sure of that. Molly believed that Bluey’s heart had been broken by living on a small block of land with a roof over his head instead of stars. His spirit lived in the bush, and that’s probably where it had stayed the day he moved into what he called ‘suburbia’.

  It only took a minute to drive through the main street of Dimbulah, passing the hardware store, bakery, chemist, take-away shop, hairdresser’s, Jade’s beauty shop, two schools – the primary and the high school – and the pub, before they were on their way out of it. They passed paddock after paddock, full of horses and cattle, their heads down as they lazily chewed on grass. There was agriculture everywhere you looked, and Molly found it comforting to know there were so many people able to make a go of life on the land. Some farmers had chosen to grow hay, cashews, coffee or ti-tree while others grew mangoes, limes, lychees, paw paws and avocadoes. They were the main crops in this neck of the woods, but as you went further towards Malanda, and the environment and climate changed before your eyes, so did the crops. In Malanda, the farmers chose to grow potatoes, corn or peanuts, and sometimes even macadamias.

  The next small town they passed through was Mutchilba, and if you blinked your eyes you would miss it. Molly swore under her breath when she barely avoided running over one of the Mutchilba shopkeeper’s cherished peacocks. Somebody had run one over a month ago and the shopkeeper, Brian, had burst into the Dimbulah pub, after h
aving one too many beers at home, demanding that the bastard who’d killed it own up. Nobody did. It was probably one of the many caravaners that had driven through on their way to Chillagoe.

  The Mareeba to Dimbulah highway, known as the Wheel-barrow Way, was a very popular tourist road. Directional signs were placed strategically along the way, turning it into a scenic drive that took travellers deeper and deeper into the region, encouraging them to stay longer and explore the rich history. The name was an apt tribute to all the mining pioneers who had walked it over a century ago. The men pushed their wheel-barrows in which all their belongings were stored. Their wives walked behind with the children, their babies in their arms. These days the road was bitumen but every year the ‘Wheelbarrow Way Race’ was held as a way of keeping the history alive. Teams of people got together, some dressed up in outlandish costumes, and walked or ran the 137-kilometre trek from Mareeba to Chillagoe over a three-day period. It was one of the highlights of the year for the Dimbulah locals.

  As the road stretched out as far as the eye could see, the paddocks on either side of the truck began to be filled with sugarcane instead of fruit trees. The flowers on the tops of the sugarcane danced in the breeze, creating a sea of soft shimmering pink that reminded Molly of fairy floss. The trees began to change, too. Some were remarkably old, bare of leaves, their branches resembling human limbs reaching towards the skies. Others had masses of green leaves adorning every branch; to Molly these stood for life and youth. Taken together, the trees provided a perfect example of the ebb and flow of Mother Nature. Vibrant bougainvilleas grew rampant in nearly every person’s yard they passed; their radiance was striking.

  ‘Mum, they’re back again!’ Rose shrieked, pointing to a pair of wedge-tailed eagles on the side of the road up ahead. Rose loved birds and had a bird book at home that David had given her. She studied it endlessly with him.

  Molly gazed as the enormous eagles heaved themselves up and into the air, out of the way of the oncoming truck. ‘Yes, darling, they’re such beautiful birds. They come every year around this time, don’t they? You’ll have to tell GG when we get home. He’ll be really excited that they’re back.’

  Rose nodded, deep in thought, as the eagles flew towards the mountains and gradually disappeared from sight. ‘Do you think they’re flying back to their baby birds?’

  ‘They might be, sweetheart. Eagles normally keep their nests up on the mountaintops, out of the reach of predators.’

  ‘How lucky for the baby birds,’ Rose replied distantly.

  ‘Yes, it is lucky. That way the babies don’t get eaten by dingoes or snakes,’ Molly said, intent on watching the road.

  ‘No, I meant they’re lucky to have a mum and a dad,’ Rose said quietly.

  Molly reached over and held Rose’s little hand, squeezing it tight. ‘I’m so sorry that you don’t know your dad, Rose, darling, I truly am. But hopefully you will meet him one day.

  Rose squeezed Molly’s hand back. ‘It’s not your fault. I love you, Mum. We do alright on our own, anyway.’

  ‘Yes, we do, don’t we?’ Molly replied, blinking back tears. ‘I love you too, sweetheart, more than all the stars in the sky.’

  Thank God Mark had come back into her life, she thought. Maybe now she’d finally be able to give Rose something she so badly wanted – the chance to know her father. Fingers crossed that when she told Mark, he’d be happy about having a child – a beautiful and intelligent daughter that he could love just as much as Molly did.

  Molly slowed the truck down as she indicated, turning to take the back route to Malanda. They passed the Lotus Glen prison and the sugarcane mill before taking a sharp left towards Atherton. It was here that the scenery really began to change. The grass took on a deep shade of green and the cattle looked fatter from enjoying their daily feast. The red dust that blanketed everything in sight around Dimbulah was left behind and instead there was red mud, which stained everything that came into contact with it. It was perfect soil for potatoes and vegetables, and macadamias too. Molly slowed again as they approached the famous little humpy store, giving the traffic behind her plenty of warning that she was intending to pull off the road. The truck turned slowly into the cul-de-sac before coming to a complete stop, the brakes loudly releasing air.

  Molly undid her seatbelt and fished around on the floor for her wallet. ‘You want to come in and get some nice hot nuts and a drink, Rose?’

  Rose licked her lips. ‘Yes, please, Mum. I’m starving, Marvin!’

  Molly patted Skip on the head. ‘You stay here and mind the truck, mate, but don’t worry; I’ll bring you something tasty back, too. I always do.’

  Skip whimpered as he slumped down on the seat in defeat, obeying his master. Molly checked that all the cattle were content in the back before heading into the shop with Rose skipping beside her.

  Molly and Rose filled their shopping bags with warm macadamia nuts, homemade cookies, tropical fruit, chocolates, jams and drinks. The humpy was an icon around the Tablelands, supplying its customers with delicious local produce and homemade goodies. Molly had been coming here since she was a kid. Her favourite item in the shop was the guava jelly, which she spread thickly on her breakfast toast for a sweet treat. She made sure to grab two jars of that and also a jar of rosella jam for David and Elizabeth. Not that the jam contained birds; it was made from the red pods of a wild bush that thrived around the tropics – a very pretty bush to have in the garden and a close relation to the hibiscus.

  Skip sniffed the contents of the bags, eagerly awaiting his treats as Molly and Rose settled back into the cab of the truck.

  Molly pulled a biscuit from the bag and handed it to him. ‘Here you are, mate.’

  Skip scoffed it down in seconds, licking every last crumb from his lips.

  ‘You guts!’ Rose squealed, scratching him behind the ears. She pulled on her seatbelt and settled back with the bag of macadamias. ‘These are yum,’ she added, passing the packet over to Molly. ‘Want some, Mum? I know they’re your favourite.’

  ‘Hmm, don’t mind if I do,’ Molly replied, placing the packet in her lap for easy access. Rose wriggled excitedly as she searched the bag for the next treat to devour. Molly knew that stopping at the humpy was one of the highlights of the trip for Rose, as she wasn’t allowed to eat much junk food at home. Molly let out a little burp and mother and daughter both cracked up laughing. What a wonderful way to spend the day, Molly thought contentedly.

  As they neared Malanda Molly noticed Rose begin to fidget in her seat, Rob and Cheryl’s farm now only minutes away. She knew Rose couldn’t wait to get there. Rose adored them both and loved visiting their place. Without checking the distance already travelled Molly knew they were close, as the temperatures had dropped enough for her to feel a little cool. Mist covered the tips of the hills that rolled out endlessly before her and she couldn’t help imagining that the lush green grass was like a big electric blanket that protected the valleys beneath from the cold. It was nothing like the brown paddocks they had back home with a heat that nearly cooked her and flies that drove her absolutely nuts. The cows even looked happier over here, Molly thought. They had big, plump bellies from all the grass they could eat and, as Rose had once brought to her attention, the cows mooed like they were singing. Molly smiled as she recalled the time Rose had asked David why the cows over this way had huge black spots. GG had lovingly explained to her that it meant they were cows used for milking. He had taught her so many things over the years, even how to say the alphabet backwards, which all her friends at school thought was really cool. One day, on a drive over, Rose had even asked Molly if they could live here in Malanda. Molly had told her that it was too cold and wet and it gave you mould in your bones if you stayed too long. Rose just giggled when Molly said stuff like that, rolling her little green eyes at her like she knew Molly was just pulling her leg.

  Skip barked animatedly as they pulled into Rob and Cheryl’s drive. Molly chuckled at the way his whole body shoo
k as his tail took on a mind of its own. His sister Dusty lived here and Molly knew Skip loved coming to have a frolic around the gardens with her while she and Rose did their thing. He bounded onto Rose’s lap, evidently keen to escape the confines of the truck.

  Cheryl waved blissfully from her spot on the front verandah, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands and the newspaper in her lap. Molly waved back as she drove past the house and towards the yards to off-load the cattle. Rob was already down there, fixing one of the gates.

  ‘Hi, Rob,’ Molly called out the window.

  ‘Hey there, Molly, be with you in a second. G’day, young Rose. Better finish up here or we’ll have all your cattle loose. Some silly bugger reversed into the gate with the tractor!’ he said with a guilty grin.

  ‘I wonder who that was,’ Molly called back, laughing as she spotted Rob’s tractor parked to the side, the back end of it looking the worse for wear.

  Once the cattle were all off safely, Molly whistled to Skip, letting him know he could come down from the cab to play with Dusty.

  ‘We better go and say hi to Aunty Cheryl then, Rose,’ Molly said, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. Her body wasn’t built for the cold. It made her bones rattle and her teeth ache.

  ‘Yay! I want to tell Aunty Cheryl about all the yummy food we ate on the way over!’ Rose grinned, bits of chocolate biscuit still stuck in her front teeth.

  ‘Oh, you’d better not do that, sweetheart. I reckon Aunty Cheryl’s been flat out in the kitchen all morning making us lunch. She’ll be a bit disappointed we didn’t save our bellies for the feast she’s prepared. Am I right or am I right?’ Molly asked, raising her eyebrows in Rob’s direction.

  ‘You’re spot on, love. Cheryl’s been cooking up a storm in there. There’s a roast chook and potato salad and Rose’s favourite, pavlova with cream and strawberries. So you better make room for lunch or you’ll be in right trouble with the boss of the house,’ Rob said, chuckling.