When it was time to leave, Rosie stood beside the Pajero as her mother walked towards her with a crumpled look on her face. Rosie felt her mother’s pain. She knew Margaret was terrified of what the meeting would bring. That she might lose the house in which she had spent most of her adult life. And the pain of knowing Rosie was going to the place where Giddy and Gerald now lived, together. Happily.
‘Drive safely,’ was all Margaret managed to say.
Now in Giddy’s cottage, Rosie swallowed nervously. She was waiting for Gerald to tell them he was going to sell the farm. He leant forward in his chair.
‘Now, I’m going to be as clear as I can. I’m sorry if I sound cruel. But I have no intention of going back to Highgrove … or your mother. Ever. I know that will come as a shock, but I’ve lived a lie for too long.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Therefore, I think … sorry,’ he looked up at Giddy and squeezed her hand, ‘we think it’s best if I transfer ownership of Highgrove over to you two.’
Rosie and Julian blinked, barely believing what they’d just heard.
‘You’re giving us the farm?’ Rosie asked at last.
Gerald nodded. ‘As long as you look after your mother. The farm needs to support her too. And, if the finances will stretch that far, I’d like to take a modest annual allowance from it.’
Julian and Rosie were speechless. Everything they had ever believed about Gerald as a father, a farmer, and their mother’s husband, no longer applied. They both stared at him as he sat there holding hands with their aunt. Julian let out a breath.
‘Well? What do you think?’ prompted Giddy.
‘But, but …’ stammered Rosie. ‘Shouldn’t Julian get it all? I mean, you know … since I’m not your … your real daughter.’
‘Oh, Rosie,’ Gerald said. ‘I’m not proud of how I’ve behaved in the past. But you must know I was never angry at you. I was angry at everything. My life was one big lie, but I was always too gutless to change it.’
‘But you’ve never –’ Rosie protested, but Gerald held up his hand.
‘I don’t know how I can convince you to believe me, but I promise you, from this moment I’m going to be someone you can rely on. I know I can rely on you. Julian told me how we nearly lost you in the flood. I’m so very sorry I left you and Jim in that mess.’
‘I saved all your breeding cows for you,’ Rosie said, trying not to let bitterness into her voice.
‘I know you did. Julian said how brave you’ve been and how you’re running the farm like clockwork. I’m so proud of you, and so grateful.’ Gerald paused, tears gathering in his eyes. ‘And so ashamed. I kept you from the farm because of my own stupid anger. Giddy’s shown me that. I’m so sorry, Rosie. I love you as my own. I do. Nearly losing you has made me see that.’
Rosie sat back, tears pricking behind her eyes. Giddy smiled gently.
‘And what about you, Julian? How do you feel about your father’s decision to split Highgrove between you and Rosie? Do you think you ought to inherit it all?’
‘No! God, no!’ Julian said, suddenly jumping to attention. ‘It’s just, it’s such a shock. All of it. You know, a change of mindset. I’m happy for Rosie to be included, really I am. But to be honest …’ Julian winced. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to come home yet.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Gerald. ‘Take all the time you need to make a decision. I know I’ve put too much pressure on you in the past. Take your time. That’s if it’s okay with Rosie? You and Jim have got things in hand, haven’t you? If you’re happy to run the place it will buy us all some time to settle into the idea. What do you think? Want to take it on, Rosie?’
Rosie nodded, smiling, as the prospect of running Highgrove raised goosebumps of fear and excitement on her skin.
When Rosie got back to Highgrove, Jim was standing in the courtyard in his faded work clothes. He put his arms around her and held her to his chest. She breathed in the smell of him and felt his solid muscles under her hands.
‘I missed you,’ Rosie said.
‘You were only gone one night,’ he said with a smile.
‘Still …’ She’d put off telling him the news over the phone, though she was dying to share it with him.
‘So, how did it all go? When do we have to move out?’
Rosie looked down at the ground and paused for dramatic effect.
‘Never!’ she said gleefully. ‘He’s not going to sell it! He’s handing it on to Jules and me!’
She jumped up and down in front of him, holding his hands. Jim hugged and kissed her, but soon held her still and looked at her with a serious expression.
‘Are you sure you want to take it on? It’s a big, big job. Farming can break some people. And it’s not as if he’s handing it to you with healthy books, healthy soils and foot-high pastures.’
Rosie looked into Jim’s eyes.
‘Of course I’m sure. With you here, of course I’m sure.’
‘So what work have you got for me today?’ Jim asked.
‘Can’t we just go to bed for a little while? I’ve had a long, tiring drive,’ Rosie said innocently, running her hand under his shirt and stroking his flat, smooth stomach.
‘Not on your life!’ he said, pulling her hand away. ‘There’s too much to be done.’
‘Okay,’ she agreed a little sulkily. ‘But promise me you’ll take me to the pub tonight?’
‘Sorry, no deal there either,’ Jim said. ‘We have to get this place on track. And don’t forget your promise to Duncan. He’ll be wanting those articles for the newspaper soon. You’ll have research to do at nights. And the farm during the day. So we won’t have time for pubs. Just work and research.’
‘Can’t I just research you?’ Her hand slid around into the warm curve of his lower back and her fingertips began to stray beneath his jeans. Again he held her at arm’s length.
‘Work,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh, you’re such a tough boss,’ she said.
Jim flashed her another serious look.
‘No, Rosie. You’re the boss now. You need to learn to be responsible. Work hard now. Play later.’
Rosie knew he was right. She probably had been spoilt by her upbringing. Now there was real work to do. Backbreaking, soul-destroying work as crops failed, or red-legged earthmites decimated pastures, or wool prices fell to half of what they had been the year before. She wasn’t just playing at farming any more.
‘Yes. Yes, I know. Thank you,’ she said. ‘But first, I need to go and tell Mum about the meeting. Then I’ll meet you in the machinery shed.’
Rosie knocked gently on her mother’s door, and pushed it open. Her mother had all her ‘after five’ clothes out of the cupboard. Silk skirts and satin dresses clustered colourfully together on her bed.
‘You’re back,’ Margaret said, looking up as she folded a fur coat and put it into a garbage bag.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m taking them all to Melbourne to sell next week. I figured if we have to move, I won’t have room for them. And besides, we need the money.’
‘You don’t need to overreact.’
‘No,’ Margaret said, ‘I’m not. It’s time I started to live sensibly. So, how was he?’
‘Great.’
‘Really?’ said Margaret, hurt.
‘Well, what am I supposed to say, Mum? That he looks shocking? He looks just fine.’
‘I see. And when is he putting this place on the market?’
Rosie moved over to her mother and took a dress out of her hands so that she’d calm down and listen.
‘He’s not.’
‘What? Oh, so I have to move so he and Giddy can come and live here?’ Her cheeks were red and tears rose to her eyes.
‘No, Mum! Stop being a drama queen. He’s handing the whole lot over to Julian and me … on the condition that we support you.’ Margaret’s mouth dropped open.
‘But you have to knuckle down,’ Rosie said, pointing a finger at her. �
�I’m not going to keep you in the manner you’ve been accustomed to. From now on, Julian and I are calling the shots.’
‘Does that mean I can stay here?’ Margaret asked breathlessly.
‘Yes … but I’d still advise you to sell your clothes, and mine along with them. I’ve seen the books and we’re up the creek. We could lose the lot if we don’t make some changes.’
‘Of course,’ Margaret said, almost collapsing with relief at Gerald’s decision.
‘Listen, you have to promise me you’re going to be really responsible with money from now on.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course I will. I’ll be sober and sensible from now on.’ Then a smile played on her lips. ‘But I can’t promise you that I still won’t get the urge to cut his balls off.’
‘That’s fine, Mum,’ Rosie said, starting to laugh. ‘You can deal with that urge any time you like. Just don’t involve me.’
Now, months later, here Rosie was splattered in lamb’s blood, tired but happy after marking the last lamb. She and Jim were towing the portable yards back towards the homestead, looking forward to a hot drink and some food. Rosie knew how lucky she was to be living her dream. She looked over to Jim as she drove and smiled at him. He’d been so wonderful. He never stepped in and took over. But he was always there, sharing the load, helping, advising and cajoling her, making her laugh, flirting with her, kissing away her frowns.
She loved the nights with him. He’d take her hands and bend over them, pulling out thistles and putting bandaids on her blisters. In the quarters they’d cook up toasted sandwiches, swig on beer, and talk into the night. But perhaps their best times of all were when they trained the pups. They were five months old now and Rosie had decided to keep the whole litter and sell them later as started dogs. She thought back to the very first lesson Jim had given her in training the tiny tearaway puppies.
‘But they’re so little,’ she’d said as she fastened a red collar around the neck of one puppy.
‘Pups are never too young for training, Rosie. You need to give them a good foundation of obedience first before you even let them see a sheep,’ Jim had said, squatting down and putting a collar on another.
‘But I don’t even know where to start!’
‘Well, names would be good. You can’t teach a pack of dogs to respond to commands individually if they don’t have their own names.’
‘Mmmm. Names? All right, let’s think of some. But none of this Bono or Bjork stuff, okay?’
‘Don’t be getting pernickety with me about my naming skills.’
‘Pernickety? What sort of a word is that? You Irish with your funny words and names! If only you could spell your names how they sound … I mean, it’s ridiculous! Look how you spell names like Siobhan and Grainne. How’s a normal person supposed to work out how to say them?’
They fell silent for a time, thinking.
‘I know!’ Rosie said suddenly. ‘I could name them after the famous dogs descended from Gleeson’s Kelpie! The ones I’ve been reading about.’
She ran into the quarters and came back with a piece of paper, tracing her fingers along the lineage.
‘The two females could be Sally and Jess. And for the three males, what about Clyde, and Coil and –’
‘Chester!’ added Jim.
‘Perfect!’ said Rosie.
And so the pups were named.
Chapter 26
Driving into the courtyard after a morning spent checking the newly-marked lambs, Rosie heard the loud bell of the phone echoing around the walls. Her mother appeared from the direction of the vegetable garden with a large armful of spinach.
‘I’ll get it,’ Rosie called as she kicked off her boots and ran inside the house.
She picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Rosie?’ came her brother’s voice on the other end of the line.
‘Julian, hi! How are you?’
‘I’m so sorry I haven’t got back to you sooner to find out how things are going there. I’ve been trying to work things out this end.’
‘That’s okay. Jim and I are doing fine.’
‘Good. I’m planning a visit, so I can help you out with anything that’s going,’ he said.
‘Great! What’s the trip for?’
‘I guess I want to see if the place feels different now Dad’s not there.’
‘Oh, it does. Believe me, it does. When are you coming?’
‘Tomorrow okay?’
‘You just missed out on lamb marking.’
‘Damn!’
‘Knew you’d be disappointed.’
‘Can you tell Mum I’m on my way? And I’m bringing a friend.’
‘Aha!’ sang Rosie. ‘A friend, eh?’
‘See you tomorrow,’ Julian said with a smile in his voice.
When Rosie delivered the news, Margaret tossed down the spinach and clapped her hands together.
‘And a friend too!’ she said in delight. ‘I’ll have to get cooking!’
‘Don’t go overboard,’ Rosie cautioned, thinking of her mother’s overspending and the long wait until the next lot of farm income was due. She’d made a point of getting her mother involved in the bookkeeping and it seemed to be working so far.
‘Don’t worry,’ Margaret said. ‘No trips to town. It’ll be all home-grown.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Rosie said gratefully before turning away.
‘How about a nice meal tonight?’ Margaret said almost urgently. ‘Will Jim join us for dinner?’
Rosie sighed. How long would this pretence go on? Her mother knew she spent her nights in the quarters with Jim. Yet she wouldn’t speak about it openly. And she still wouldn’t be drawn on the subject of Rosie’s father. Rosie conceded that her mother had been a lot better since almost losing her daughter in the flood, but she still clung to the hope that Gerald would come home and life would return to her form of normal. And Margaret’s form of normal did not include a relationship between her daughter and a stockman. Still, she said little, aside from the odd, pointed question such as ‘Is he really your type?’ or ‘Does he plan to stay long in the job?’. Rosie was torn between her mother’s loneliness and her own burning need to be with Jim.
‘Sorry, Mum. Jim and I are really tired. We’ve had a big few days. We’ll just have some toasted sandwiches in the quarters and we’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Oh,’ was all Margaret said.
Late the next day, Margaret and Rosie were installing a cash-book program on the computer when they heard a truck lumbering up the hillside. Jim heard it too and came out of the workshop to see a vehicle roll through the garden gates and pull up with a hiss of airbrakes. On the side of the truck, in large letters, were the words ‘Trees to Please … reclaiming land for our native environment’.
Rosie and Margaret stepped down from the verandah onto the drive. Tumbling out of the cab came Julian, tanned and slim, wearing baggy khaki clothes and thin strips of black leather about his neck and wrist. His hair was streaked blond. He wore lace-up bushwalking boots and a broad grin. His collie leapt down from the cab before he slammed the door shut. A short, black-haired man sprang down from the driver’s side. He was wearing the same khaki uniform as Julian.
‘Crikey!’ said Rosie to Julian. ‘You look like the Croc Hunter!’ Then she flung her arms about him. ‘Welcome home!’
Margaret also hugged him warmly. Julian indicated the man standing beside him.
‘This is my partner, Evan. Evan, my sister, Rosie, and my mum, Margaret.’
‘Great to meet you both,’ Evan said, shaking their hands, the skin around his brown eyes creased in a smile.
‘And this must be Jim,’ said Julian as he stepped forward and shook Jim’s hand. ‘Heard a fair bit about you.’
‘Indeed you would’ve,’ Jim said.
‘Ha!’ exclaimed Evan. ‘You sound just like Dougall off that Father Ted show!’
‘Only hopefully not as thick,’ replied Jim.
‘I don’t know about th
at,’ said Rosie teasingly and Jim gave her a shove. ‘What’s with the truck?’ she asked.
‘It’s Evan’s business. I’ve been working with him on regeneration projects.’
‘It’s a government and private cooperative,’ Evan explained. ‘We protect inner-city wildlife and re-establish natural habitat for them.’
‘And we control feral animals.’
‘Can you do anything about Jim? He’s not native … so that would make him feral. Eh, Mum?’
But Margaret wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. She was still stuck on Julian’s introduction of Evan.
‘So you said you’re in partnership with Evan?’ she asked, trying to sound chirpy.
‘Um, well, we’re not business partners,’ Evan explained.
‘But we are partners,’ Julian added, moving closer to Evan.
‘Oh. I see,’ said Margaret, turning pale.
There was an awkward silence until Jim said, too loudly, ‘Right then,’ and clapped his hand on Julian’s back. ‘How about a drink at the pub? Rosie’s keen, I’m sure. Are we all in?’
‘Crikey!’ Rosie said again, taking in her brother’s news. She felt a warm sensation rush over her. She’d always known there was something different about Julian, ever since they were children. It finally all fell into place. And after everything that had happened in her family, this turn of events seemed minor. In fact, it was something to celebrate.
‘Mum, we’ll take your car,’ she said, ‘Come on, Evan. I’ll look after you.’ Then she lowered her voice as she steered him away. ‘Beware. She can bite.’
As they stepped into the hotel’s warmth, James Dean came out from behind the bar and took a swirling, theatrical bow.
‘Welcome, welcome, welcome, friends and family of long-lost Rosie!’
‘What are you on?’ Rosie asked.
‘Just practising for the Oscars,’ he said. Then he flamboyantly extended his arm towards the bar.
‘More like practising for a job on Sale of the Century,’ Rosie grinned.
The Stockmen Page 19