The Homestead Girls

by Fiona McArthur

  She felt his scrutiny like a warm breeze, appreciative yet impersonal and sparing nothing. She wasn’t sure how he did it but it couldn’t be misconstrued as sexual, more analytical, because she felt like she came up short every time he did it. ‘Oh, I like women all right. Just not en masse.’

  She tossed her hair back and straightened. ‘I like men. Just don’t want to live with one.’

  The words and a long look reverberated between them. Finally he said, ‘I’ll remember that.’

  She stepped away as if she’d forgotten the conversation already but could feel his eyes on her back. Well, for goodness sake. She’d just said thank you, she hadn’t asked for a discussion about whether she’d done the right thing moving out there. And why did she always feel like she was the loser in the conversation? She was out of her depth with him. Admit it. Face it. Get over it.

  Four days later Mia found the brown kelpie, Gigi, panting under the tank stand. She’d been checking every morning before she went to school and as soon as she came home in the afternoon. All the angst about moving out of town was forgotten as the lambs and the dogs and the speed with which she was learning from Soretta had captivated her in a way she hadn’t expected. She certainly wasn’t going to tell her mother how much she was loving it all, but she had to admit that life was pretty darn good. They even had a four-wheel motorbike that Soretta said she’d teach her to drive.

  But now, this moment, was the best. Because after a closer look, she could see that half a dozen squeaking puppies surrounded Gigi.

  Mia gasped as she peered under the shade of the tank. The dog looked at her and then away at her rear end, and then, incredibly, another puppy squeezed out under Gigi’s tail in its missile-shaped amniotic sack to plop onto the ground. The shiny tube of puppy gladwrap lay still on the warm leaf mulch and Mia didn’t know what to do. Should she touch it, leave it alone, call for help?

  Then Gigi stretched slowly, taking her time, before she licked gently at the sac, until she broke through to the still puppy inside and proceeded to stroke it firmly now with her tongue until the little head with its tightly shut eyes lifted up and whimpered. The unhurried pattern of resuscitation was the most incredible thing she’d ever seen and Mia’s respect for the animal kingdom soared.

  This was a moment in time that crystallised into a thought that had been growing inside her all week. She actually knew what she wanted to do with her life. Now she understood how her mother could say she’d always wanted to be a flying doctor. Mia got it, because, as of this moment she wanted to be a vet.

  Gigi wagged her tail as if to say, Look what I’ve done. ‘Hello there, Gigi, you clever thing,’ Mia whispered, and waited to see if the dog was unhappy about her presence near her puppies, but Gigi just wagged her tail more. ‘Okay. Then let’s have a look and see how many you have.’ Careful not to get too close, Mia counted the puppies. Four brown and three black with brown markings. ‘Seven babies. You champion. Soooo cute.’

  Eyes shut and squirming, the puppies wriggled and squeaked and Gigi pushed them around with her nose, upending each one to check its tummy and Mia could have watched for hours. But she wanted to share the news with someone.

  Then another one arrived and it all began again. Instilled with faith at Gigi’s natural capabilities, Mia knew it would be okay to leave her so that she could tell Daphne.

  Easing away slowly, Mia stood and ran back up the stairs to Daphne, whom Mia felt had been a part of their lives for years, not weeks.

  ‘The puppies are here,’ she called. Daphne came out wiping her hands on a tea towel and her face lit up. ‘That’s exciting. Show me.’

  Together they crept back to look over the edge of the rockery to the small enclave Gigi had decided was much better than the nice bed Soretta had made for her in the shed.

  ‘Why didn’t she like the shed?’ Daphne asked and Mia frowned.

  ‘I thought about that. Maybe it just smelled too much like humans? I’ll ask Soretta when she comes home. Do you think she’ll let me keep one?’

  Daphne tilted her head. ‘Your mother?’

  ‘No. I meant Soretta,’ Mia said. ‘Mum will because she’s happy here and we won’t end up in a flat this time. I hate flats.’

  Mia looked around the nooks and crannies of the tank stand and worried about snakes. ‘Should we move them to the shed?’

  Daphne frowned. ‘I’ve never had puppies but I don’t think we can. Even if Gigi let us, I think she’d just bring them back here.’

  Soretta agreed when she got home. ‘I’ll sort something tomorrow. At least she seems to have managed well and they all look healthy.’

  Mia frowned. ‘Does it always go well?’

  ‘Usually. Dogs are instinctive and don’t get strange ideas like humans do. Though sometimes dogs accidently lie on their puppies, which is why I thought she’d be better in the shed.’ She looked searchingly at her. ‘In all the excitement did you feed the lambs?’

  Mia nodded, still thinking about the puppies. ‘Yep. They look good, too. That biggest one is being a hog, though.’

  ‘Lambs can’t be pigs,’ Soretta said straight-faced and Mia stared at her, her jaw almost dropping.

  ‘Did you just make a joke?’

  Soretta grinned. ‘Cheeky bugger.’

  EIGHT

  Two weeks later Daphne had returned from a cardiac retrieval to Adelaide when she heard Billie take a call from Pallinup Station. She listened while she restocked the cupboard. The door was open so Daphne could hear the conversation clearly over the loudspeaker.

  ‘Pallinup Station here. We need the flying doctor. The cook’s cut his finger off and now he’s fainted.’

  Daphne bet she knew who that was. She saw Rex look up and shake his head. They grinned at each other, then Rex called out to Billie, ‘Forty minutes till arrival time,’ as he headed out the door to prepare the aircraft again.

  Billie’s voice was calm. ‘He’s fainted you say? Is his breathing okay?’

  ‘Yep, and he’s got a hard head.’ The woman’s voice was settling down in response to Billie’s steadiness. ‘I guess he’ll come round in a minute.’

  Daphne suppressed a smile as Billie said, ‘Have you managed to control the bleeding from the stump?’

  ‘My husband’s holding a pressure bandage on it so it’s probably good he’s out. We’re binding it while he’s still too groggy and can’t complain. The bleeding seems to be slowing. Do we put a tourniquet on?’

  Billie said, ‘If you can manage, elevate it instead. If he’s on the floor you could loosely support his wrist on a chair above his head. Tourniquet only if you can’t stop major blood loss. It can interfere with reattaching the finger.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Billie said, ‘Um, do you still have the finger?’

  The voice sounded slightly fainter. ‘Yes, but I can’t stand looking at it.’

  Poor Rita. Daphne knew the station manager’s wife and she was a good egg but squeamish. Accidental Al was the last person you should have working for you if you were squeamish.

  ‘Sorry.’ Billie bit her lip and Daphne reckoned she was trying not to smile, too, even though it was an emergency. ‘If you can, get someone to pick it up with a clean cloth and drop it into a plastic bag. Have you got any of those snap-lock plastic bags?’

  ‘Yep, we use them for the meat when we butcher.’ There was the sound of a small retch. Daphne finished her restocking and grabbed a couple of extra bandages for the trip and two ice packs that activated to cold when you squeezed them.

  She saw Billie wince sympathetically. ‘Okay. When it’s in the bag, leave a bit of air in there to cushion it, then seal it. Pop a couple of ice cubes in a bowl with a lid, and some water, and float the bag in there to keep it cool. Don’t let the finger touch the ice. The aircraft will be there in forty minutes. If he needs pain relief ring me back and I’ll stand by for support when you give the injection.’

  Rita made a funny strangled noise that was almost a laugh. ‘I d
on’t think he’ll need that. He’s scared of needles.’

  Billie frowned. ‘But not knives?’

  ‘He should be,’ Rita said with a sigh. ‘Thank you. He’s waking up now. We’ll see how we go.’

  ‘Phone back if you’re worried.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Billie raised her voice towards Daphne. ‘There’s a cook out at Pallinup, he’s amputated his finger. I’m guessing you and Rex are right to go?’

  Daphne tried to keep the grin off her face. ‘Yep.’ A chuckle escaped and she saw the look Billie gave her and shook her head, pulling her mouth back under control. ‘Sorry. It’s Accidental Al.’

  ‘Why does that ring a bell?’ Then Billie also smiled. ‘I remember now. The guy with the nail gun in the leg.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Did you hear the conversation?’

  ‘Got it all. Rex will be ready and we know where to go. This is our third trip out there in three months. The first time he got buried under a pile of hay bales trying to catch a rat and almost suffocated.’

  ‘It’s a wonder he’s still got a job if he’s that accident-prone.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he drinks a bit, but the guy is an absolute champion, cooks like a dream, and has a heart as big as the desert. Hard to fire him, I guess.’

  When Daphne and Rex arrived at the scene, Al was sitting sheepishly, and a little pale, in the front seat of the boss’s utility waiting for the plane. He had a lidded ice-cream container on his lap. Daphne couldn’t see through it but assumed it held the severed digit.

  ‘Hi, Al,’ Daphne said breezily. ‘How’s the pain?’

  ‘Okay.’ She wasn’t surprised. She guessed that Al’s incred­ibly high pain tolerance was nature’s way of compensating for his attraction to disaster.

  She took his pulse and blood pressure and they were remarkably normal. Typical Al. ‘Going to pop a cannula in, Al, in case it starts to bleed in flight.’ The young man tinged green and Daphne remembered his needle phobia. ‘You know they’ll have to put one in for theatre so at least it’ll be already there.’

  ‘You never hurt me, Daphne.’ He shuddered. ‘It’s just the thought.’

  ‘When did you last eat?’

  ‘Just before I started cutting up the vegies for lunch.’

  Daphne checked her watch. ‘So eleven a.m.?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Last drink?’

  ‘You mean me last blinder?’

  Daphne laughed. ‘I’m guessing that was last night.’ She hid the flash of the needle in the sunlight as she wiped his arm. Deftly, she inserted the cannula and Al didn’t notice. There was a high-octane emission occurring every time Al breathed on her. ‘I meant the last time today you had water or non-alcoholic fluids. So I can tell them for planning your surgery.’

  ‘Just a mug of tea this morning.’

  ‘Okay. So no more food or fluids till they’ve seen you. You know the routine.’

  Al sighed. ‘I should.’ He looked at her with his big blue eyes, confused by the vagrancies of fate. ‘Why do you reckon this happens to me, Daphne?’

  Daphne smiled gently. ‘Why do you reckon it happens after a blinder, Al?’

  He shook his head sadly and sincerely. ‘It’s a bleedin’ mystery. That’s what it is.’

  All was right in Daphne’s world. She and Rex had left their patient in Adelaide, where he was on the way to surgery to reattach his finger, and they were on the home run with just the two of them in the aircraft.

  Rex always invited her in to the cockpit when they had the chance and she loved it. It wasn’t often, though, that they had no other passengers. The service actually encouraged the nurses to observe the habits of the pilots in case of pilot illness in an emergency, and Daphne had no problem observing Rex.

  The cockpit smelt faintly of Rex’s inexpensive, old-fashioned cologne, one that her ex-husband would never deign to use thankfully, and she decided again that she liked it very much.

  They’d taken off in silence, Rex murmuring to the tower via his microphone, and she allowed her gaze to rest briefly on the hand holding the control. A strong, work-worn hand, with piano-player fingers, guiding the aircraft not just by science and technology, but with an inherent instinct she’d admired in dire times. She admired it now just for the pleasure of it.

  He must have noticed her watching because he looked across and gave her one of his warm and toe-wriggling smiles that she hugged to herself and stored away for the nights she couldn’t sleep.

  ‘I love to fly.’ He glanced around with that unobtrusive alertness he carried at all times, gesturing with one hand. ‘Love my job.’

  He looked so relaxed as he flew the aircraft home and yet she could feel her cheeks heating when all she wanted was to be calm and collected . . . and attractive to him. She loved being here with him.

  ‘You love it too, don’t you, Daphne?’

  For a moment there she thought he knew she fancied him and then she got the drift. ‘Yes. Yes I do. I feel privileged to be able to share the importance of what we do.’

  He nodded, looking happy. ‘That’s exactly how I feel.’

  But at the moment she was thinking how much she enjoyed these quiet times with Rex. How he’d never look at her the way she dreamt he would but that it was okay. She was happy with this.

  She breathed in deeply and basked in her surroundings. She never tired of the expanse of sky and land in front of her. It was magic looking out of the cabin windows down the back, but nothing beat the uninterrupted vista of the cockpit and the view ahead.

  They flew on over brown land with darker snakes of dry creek beds and the occasional slag heap of an abandoned mine.

  Rex broke the silence and interrupted her thoughts. ‘The Silver City Cup is on back at Broken Hill next month. You ever been?’

  ‘No. Never been,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you were a punter, Rex.’

  ‘Not a punter. I’m just a mug. I do like the country race meets, though. Thought I might stay a couple of nights. I’d like your company if you want to come.’

  Daphne froze and the view outside the window pixelated. She slowly turned her face towards him but he was looking straight out the windshield at the sky ahead. That was good because she knew her cheeks were an ugly red and getting redder. She turned back to the window and moistened her suddenly dry mouth. Tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Be nonchalant, she ordered silently. ‘I’d like that.’

  She turned back to see him grin at her and she stored that one away, too. ‘Fine. We’ll sort it out next week.’

  That afternoon on the main verandah overlooking the paddocks the blue hills were splashed with the gold of sunset. Four wicker chairs and a couple of side tables had gravitated to where Daphne and Billie usually settled in for their half hour before tea. There was a lovely view over the blue bush and shiny outcrops of rocks and down to the road, while the actual heat of the sun was shaded by the big gum tree beside the house.

  They’d started the ritual of an evening cup of tea so that they could all sit together, relax or just chat about their day or whatever was coming up, and even Soretta had begun to drift in to join them.

  Daphne thought about the day. There was only her and Billie so far and they sat in companionable silence. She thought about Rex’s offer, about how much she’d been hurt before because a man had believed she was more than she was, and how terrified she was that it could happen again.

  She checked that Mia wasn’t on the other side of the kitchen window before speaking in a low voice. ‘Billie? Can I ask you a personal question?’

  Billie looked up from the iPad she was skimming. Switched it off and sat up straighter, giving Daphne her full attention, and making her nervous once more. ‘Sure, Daphne. We’re friends aren’t we?’

  Warmth stole under her ribs and her nerves settled a little. ‘I like to think so.’

  Billie leaned over and topped up her cup with the teapot. ‘We are. And I value your friendship. So spill.�
��

  ‘Thank you. I value your friendship, too. I guess it’s more advice that I’m after.’

  Billie raised her eyebrows, giving her a slow smile. ‘About a man? Because if it’s about men I’m not so hot on that subject.’ She shrugged.

  Daphne laughed. ‘Good. I won’t feel so stupid then. Have you had boyfriends?’

  ‘I’ve had dates,’ Billie said cautiously.

  Daphne could sense a thread of something darker in her new friend’s voice.

  Billie looked pensive before she said very quietly, ‘And one short, very bad relationship that should never have happened, but that was a long time ago.’

  Daphne checked that they were alone again and lowered her voice further. ‘Mia’s father?’

  ‘Hmm. But what was your question?’ Billie took a sip of her tea.

  Fair enough. Stop prying, Daphne, she scolded herself. ‘Rex asked me to go to the Silver City races at Broken Hill next month for a couple of nights.’

  The smile on Billie’s face as she turned to look at her made Daphne’s cheeks heat for a second time. ‘Just as a friend, of course.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Billie grinned. Then she said, ‘You sure?’

  Her cheeks burned. ‘He said he’d booked two rooms for two nights.’

  Billie shook her head, the smile still in her eyes. ‘Well, he couldn’t exactly book one, could he? That would be presumptuous. I’m very pleased for you. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve actually noticed Rex’s sterling qualities before. You were watching him pretty closely when he was moving furniture.’

  ‘And you were watching Morgan,’ Daphne remembered with delayed insight. But then, as if ready to say it out loud properly, she admitted, ‘I do like Rex. A lot. But I didn’t think he’d ask me out.’ Daphne still marvelled at the unexpectedness of it. ‘And to make it more stressful he’s bought tickets for the race marquee. I used to be horribly shy at social events, which was tragic as far as my ex and my father were concerned. Thankfully, since I’ve been nursing it’s helped me realise what’s really important to me, so I’m not so bad now.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m a little worried I’ll pick the wrong things to wear. I don’t know if I want to put myself through that.’ There. It was out and now, she hoped, Billie would help her get a grip.