The Homestead Girls

by Fiona McArthur

  Lorna concentrated on the news. ‘Male or female?’

  ‘Female. Has a teenage daughter, I hear. Grew up in Mica Ridge but left years ago when her parents were killed. Apparently they were school teachers.’

  Lorna straightened. Green. The name sprang into her mind with startling clarity. The past always did. It was the present that got somewhat muddled. She remembered a lovely couple, both of whom taught at the primary school, and they had one sweet daughter. The town had been devastated. Her husband had been very upset because the ambulance had picked him up on the way to the accident but there’d been nothing he could do. Too little too late. The girl had gone to a relative in the city.

  Lorna did love to catch up on the local news and nowadays that only happened at the yearly Christmas cake fundraiser for the RFDS or at the hairdresser’s.

  She so enjoyed having her hair washed and set, it was the best part of her week since she’d lost her husband. She missed years of chatting, hearing about people’s lives at the surgery, and being the person people turned to. Being useful! When dear Wallace had passed on, she hadn’t had the energy for her old life because she’d been so exhausted from caring for him until the end. Then That Woman had married her son and moved in to look after her.

  Humph. All she’d needed was a good sleep for a month and she would have been fine. Mentally she snorted. Now she wasn’t encouraged to invite people to drop in and she missed the interaction she’d had as The Doctor’s Wife. Lorna was beginning to feel something she’d never felt before—old and useless. And she didn’t like it one bit.

  She dragged her mind back to the conversation. ‘Always good to have a new doctor. Can you remember her first name?’

  ‘No, sorry. Don’t know her name.’ The girl pulled back a new part line to touch up the roots.

  Lorna would miss this dear girl when she moved on. Like most of these young adventurers, she’d hear of a new town to visit and set her sights on a new quest. Backpack away. Lorna wished she could do that. Just disappear. She wished she could move out to one of those one-horse towns and be the nurse again.

  Like she’d been fifty years ago when she’d met her husband. Doing something worthwhile. Constantly alert for the next crisis. Dealing with the impossible until help arrived. Riding through storms on horseback to help deliver a baby or splint a bone. She’d done some exhilarating things in her time. Maybe she could go somewhere really remote. She wasn’t young but she’d be better than no resources.

  Who was she kidding? She was too old now. Only able to raise pitiful sums of money to help the local Flying Doctor Base. Too old to be employed, too old to be a help rather than a hindrance. And wasn’t that drummed into her every day. In the nicest possible way.

  Humph. She’d always said she wasn’t going to be one of those grannies who minded the grandchildren and tidied the house, but she would have eaten those words these last two years if she’d had the chance. And with her son’s wife apparently putting motherhood off until Lorna was dead, she had no choice anyway.

  ‘Lorna?’ The young girl paused as she painted the purple dye along the silver roots. ‘You okay there?’

  ‘I’m fine, dear.’ Silly old fool she was. ‘Just wool-gathering.’

  ‘Wool-gathering?’ The hairdresser tilted her head and glanced again at Lorna in the mirror. Smiled that genuinely interested smile. ‘And what would that be?’

  Wool-gathering? A lovely phrase. Diverted, Lorna explained. ‘When the sheep brush along the fences, little tufts of wool get caught on the wire, and on tree branches and sharp rocks, like the boulders we have on the ridge out of town. If you were to go along and collect these, you’d be wool-gathering.’

  The girl nodded with keen attention. ‘Someone told me yesterday there were two million sheep along the Darling. For a shallow brown river that’s a lot of livestock.’

  ‘True. Though there’s less now with the drought.’ Lorna thought about it and a picture with wool-studded fences floated into her mind. ‘Imagine all the tiny bits of fluff caught up with twigs and leaves.’ She smiled, accepting her own foibles. ‘And it’s like my mind. Collecting little thoughts and things that stick in my brain and come out in a clump for me to unravel. You do more of it as you get older, probably because of all the trails old people have travelled.’

  As long as she kept her wits, unlike poor Wallace.

  The girl shook her head vehemently. ‘You’re not old!’

  Lorna snorted. ‘I’m eighty next week.’

  ‘So what are you doing for your eightieth, Lorna?’ The spiky-haired young backpacker leant down to add in her drawling Liverpool accent, ‘Something naughty, I’ll bet. You’re the youngest eighty-year-old I know. There’s a wild life in you yet. Run away with a younger man and have your wicked way with him.’

  Lorna spluttered and laughed. It wasn’t even patronising, like her daughter-in-law would have been if she’d said something similar. It was genuine. Encouraging. Warm like the young woman who’d said it.

  ‘Don’t know about the wicked way.’ Lorna was too old to blush, but she grinned roguishly. ‘But you’re sweet.’

  Lorna wondered. Was bumped gently out of her resignation. Not about the sex. Lord, no. But was she too old to run away from home?

  FOUR

  A week after they’d arrived, Mia Green decided that moving out of Sydney may not have been the worst thing that had happened to her. Her new friend, Trent, had a motorbike and her first glimpse of the out-of-town dirt racing track was the most exciting place Mia had ever seen.

  They’d come straight from school, ducking into the back garage at Trent’s house and wheeling the motorbike up the street so his mum didn’t hear it start up. Both riders under age, an unregistered bike, and a quick blatt through the back streets until they hit a dirt track was just the sort of clandestine adventure Mia loved.

  She knew who wouldn’t like it, but what her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and Mum didn’t finish work until five. That gave Mia ninety minutes to get from school to home and a lot of fun could be had in ninety minutes.

  ‘Can I try steering?’ They’d stopped after fifteen minutes of going around and around the rough bush track, skirting straggly gum trees, leaning precariously around rocky outcrops until she’d laughed out loud, and finally rolling to a stop under a spotted gum to take off their helmets.

  Trent checked his watch. ‘It’s pretty powerful.’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

  ‘Just a quick go,’ Mia wheedled.

  He frowned at her. ‘Have you ridden a bike before on your own?’

  She was tempted to lie but decided against it. ‘Just as a passenger.’

  He shook his head decisively. ‘It’s getting late. We’ll see tomorrow.’ Trent was firm and Mia actually didn’t mind that. There was something pretty cool about a guy she couldn’t manipulate easily. A challenge. She smiled to herself. But she’d get her way.

  Trent dropped her off at the end of her street in case her mother was home early, and they went their separate ways. She felt like skipping except she was far too mature for that.

  Mia passed the white house with the gabled roof that she’d decided was her favourite and waved to the old lady with purple hair sitting on the front verandah. Lots of people at her school in Sydney had purple hair. But not old people. She glanced again at the lady and couldn’t imagine ever being that old.

  Her world was pretty darned good, actually. She wondered if her mother would buy her a bike if she asked. Her mood flattened. Doubt it. That would be considered too dangerous. The downside of having a doctor for a mother. Or one of them. She turned into the front path and almost ran into Daphne coming the other way. Stinker.

  ‘Hello, Mia.’ Daphne caught the flare of dismay in Mia’s eyes and thought, Where have you been? Billie’s daughter quickly lowered her lashes and Daphne wondered if her mother knew Mia wasn’t coming straight back from school.

  ‘Hi, Daphne. You going out?’ The tone was nonchala
nt and Daphne suppressed a smile. Little minx. She’d sounded totally unconcerned. As if the thought that Daphne might mention it to her mother never crossed her mind. She wouldn’t, unless she was asked.

  Her shift started at seven a.m. and finished at three-thirty pm. Billie ran on the doctor’s roster, left and finished an hour and a half later, so wouldn’t be home until five p.m.

  Daphne put aside her concerns but she didn’t put them away. She’d keep an eye out.

  She changed the subject. ‘I’m visiting a young friend. Her grandad had a station accident and she comes in to visit in the afternoons. That way she gets home before the roos get too thick on the highway.’

  She saw the girl nod. A flash of compassion crossed her face and Daphne was pleased to see that Mia had her mother’s empathy. ‘Hope her grandad feels better. See you, then.’ She waved.

  Daphne watched her turn and hurry up the path to the side door. Probably wanted to wash the red dust off the back of her legs and uniform before her mum came home. Daphne wondered what young Mia had been doing and hoped it wasn’t something Billie would hate too much.

  She turned onto the footpath and strode along the street towards the hospital. She imagined it would be challenging to have a teenage daughter, and realised Billie must have been very young when Mia was born. She was probably used to challenges.

  Daphne would have loved a daughter. A family of any kind. It had always been her dream, but she was getting to the stage where it looked less likely. In fact, sometimes it felt totally impossible given she was thirty and there was no man on the horizon except her doomed attraction to Rex. The problem was she didn’t fancy anyone else and Rex liked to tease her but didn’t think of her in that way.

  She saw Lorna Lamerton sitting on the verandah and remembered that all families had their moments. She’d met her at one of the RFDS fundraising meetings and Lorna had invited her to the annual Christmas pudding-making week coming up. She was really looking forward to that.

  The older lady seemed to be spending more time sitting on the verandah these days. Daphne had dropped in a week ago and they’d had a cup of tea overlooking the street. Talking about the time Lorna had been a nurse all those years ago. Fascinating stuff.

  Daphne had the impression Lorna didn’t see eye to eye with her new daughter-in-law, though she hadn’t said as much.

  Daphne waved and Lorna waved back. That woman had a few tales to tell. Daphne made a mental note to drop in again one day soon because the company suited them both.

  When Billie arrived home, Mia was already showered and a load of washing was in the machine. Impulsively she hugged her daughter. Life was pretty darn good.

  ‘I’m so pleased we’ve moved here. You were never this organised in Sydney.’

  Mia blushed. ‘Um... I’m getting older.’

  ‘That you are.’ Billie couldn’t help sharing her excitement. ‘We delivered a baby today. Out in a tin shed in the middle of nowhere.’

  As she said it she corrected herself. ‘We were there when a baby was born.’ Daphne was right. They hadn’t delivered a baby. Belle had done all the work.

  Mia looked up. ‘Wow! That’s pretty cool. Can I tell . . .’ a slight hesitation, ‘the kids at school tomorrow?’

  Or one kid. One particular ‘male’ kid? ‘Sorry. Probably not. Patient confidentiality.’

  Mia turned away. ‘Okay.’ She turned back. ‘What was it like? Watching a baby be born? It must be gross.’

  Billie laughed, remembering. It was different to any delivery she’d seen in the past. ‘Quick. Slightly scary if I started to think what would happen if the baby didn’t cry. But he did. And was fine. So then it was just amazing. Not gross at all.’

  She tilted her head at her daughter, who seemed to be glowing and happy and more animated than she’d been for months. ‘I didn’t think ‘gross’ when you were born.’

  Mia looked at her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  It was a look she hadn’t seen on her daughter’s face before. ‘What for?’

  ‘An honest answer.’

  ‘I try to be honest with you all the time, Mia. And I hope you’d want to be honest with me.’

  ‘Sure.’ There was a pause. ‘Can I have a motorbike?’

  ‘No!’

  Mia shook her head in disgust. ‘That was brutally honest.’

  Billie ran her fingers through her hair. Okay, maybe that had been a reflex bark. ‘We live in town. Maybe if we had some land around us.’

  Mia rolled her eyes. ‘Well that’s not going to happen.’

  It might. ‘Did something happen at school today?’

  ‘Nope. Nothing ever happens.’ Then she turned away and walked into her room.

  Billie sank down on a chair. What had all that been about? How had she handled that so badly they’d ended up not talking? Billie thought with a tinge of unease that maybe she was missing something and then sighed. She was tired. It had been a big day.

  She remembered during her aeromedical training they’d mentioned how fatigue could sneak up on you until you became accustomed to the different pressures of the aircraft. It had been interesting to be reminded about the added stresses of air travel on patients and staff alike. Today had been a hot one and the aircraft had taken a while to cool down after they took off. They’d had to monitor Anthony’s temperature. Not too hot and certainly not cold.

  It was all so different to road ambulance transport. There were medical adjustments you didn’t normally think about. Having to fly lower for head and abdominal injuries, managing the extreme heat in the cabin until the air-conditioner kicked in after take-off, and working with headphones constantly, even while carrying on a conversation with the patient. And the rubbery legs sometimes when you climbed down from the plane.

  She could see how it could be physically demanding to edge around the patient, accessing equipment and IV lines and monitoring equipment, all the while in the air. Especially if the patient’s condition deteriorated. Hence the reason to be well set up before the plane left the ground.

  Daphne did it all the time. Had done most of the organising today. Billie was beginning to think she was lucky the doctors only went out when more help was needed or to clinics.

  She thought about today’s baby and her spirits lifted. Boy, she loved this. The unpredictability of it. The genuine need and appreciation of their patients for the service they offered. This was what she wanted to do. And the people were great. Daphne was great.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Morgan.

  How on earth did his shoulders fit in the aircraft?

  Billie grimaced. She didn’t need to complicate it all by having a stupid attraction to her boss, but it was a long forgotten feeling to suspect she was admired as a woman and not just a doctor. Was she so wrong to want to bask in it for a change? As long as she stayed in control it was fine.

  ‘I’m sorry, honey. But I’ve asked the real estate agent to come out and value Blue Hills. I think we should sell.’

  Looking at her grandfather as he lay in his hospital bed, Soretta didn’t know what to do. Her brain felt so full of words that she wanted to cry. There were so many thoughts she needed to clarify, but the impending disaster and loss of what was, for her, heartland, was swirling so thickly in the shock of the moment she couldn’t make her mouth work.

  That her grandfather was putting their home on the market after four generations in their family sat like a lump in her throat, and a thick black coat of hopelessness settled around her shoulders.

  She wasn’t used to feeling like this. Vulnerable. She’d never been in a situation where she couldn’t fight her way out. Even those first three months at boarding school when the last thing she’d wanted to do was to live five hundred miles away from her home, she’d accepted that it was what her grandparents judged was the best thing for her. So she’d gone as asked. Refused to let it get her down when Year 7 girls all around her had cried with homesickness and despair, had concentrated on working hard and building her ag
ricultural and business skills to make her grandparents proud.

  She’d hidden the homesickness that never really went away and put in the structured hours of homework the school had mapped out, while the other girls had slipped out and made mischief and caused mayhem in the boy’s school across the road.

  Thankfully, she’d flown back to Mica Ridge in the holidays and thrown on her jeans and boots and headed out into the paddocks as fast as she could. God, she’d loved getting home for holidays.

  She’d missed her horses. Missed her dogs. Missed the sunrise out in the paddock before the heat and mustering, fixing fences, kicking around in the old Landrover. But it had all worked out well because she’d taken over the business accounts and tried to stay on top of the latest agricultural trends after her gran had died.

  Yes, at the moment they had a drought, but there were always droughts. Yes, there was only her and Grandad, but she’d thought they were doing okay. Or would be as soon as the rain came. The wild goat harvest had been good. Her sheep were healthy. She didn’t ask for much, didn’t need anything she didn’t have, just wanted to keep the life that she and her grandad loved. And she had no idea what she would do if they sold.

  ‘Oh, Grandad,’ was all she could say.

  By the time Daphne arrived at the hospital, only slightly puffed from the long walk, her roaming thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Soretta, ahead along the corridor, despair in every line of her body. Soretta was known for greeting the world eye-to-eye.

  The young woman’s back was facing her as she leant the side of her head against the corridor wall, shoulders bowed, and Daphne’s stomach dropped. Not Lachlan, she prayed, and hurried forward.

  ‘You okay, Soretta?’ She spoke quietly as she put her hand gently on Soretta’s shoulder and the young woman lifted her head. Her eyes were weary but not damp.

  ‘Daphne. Hi. I’m fine.’ She looked anything but fine until she pulled herself back to a normal facade.