Most of the time, her brother, Will, was on the other end of the computer, sending her funny little pick-me-up messages or a smiley face when she least expected it. Carly had been so annoyed that Will hadn’t come back for the funeral, but he had certainly made his presence felt in so many other ways. In fact, they’d become closer in the last few weeks, even though they hadn’t spoken face-to-face.
Fiona paused, trying to work out how to word the question that had been going around in her head for weeks now.
‘Um, Mark? You know Ian Tonkin?’ She bent down and started to undo the wire holding the equipment in place.
‘You know I do,’ he replied, pressing a few buttons on the readout of the scales. ‘Right, three hundred and twelve ready to go, out of four-fifty.’ He wrote it down in his notebook, before adding the average weight.
‘They’re solid lambs,’ she said confidently.
Mark snapped the notebook shut and leaned against the crate. ‘So why are you asking about Ian Tonkin?’ he asked. ‘You thinking of selling the farm?’
Fiona stared out across the paddocks, trying to formulate her words. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t want to sell.’ She turned back to him. ‘But for some reason he thinks I do. He’s been visiting and ringing at least once a week since Charlie’s funeral. Very persistent.’
Mark pursed his lips. ‘Doesn’t sound like him.’
‘And what’s really weird is that a couple of people in town asked me who I was selling to—like I’d already signed a contract or something. Geoff was one of them.’
‘You haven’t given any indication that you want to sell to anyone?’
She shook her head. ‘In a weak moment I think I might have said to Jo or Leigh—I can’t remember which—that I didn’t know how I was going to cope and maybe I should sell, but I never really meant it.’
In reality, it wasn’t just Ian Tonkin who was encouraging her to sell. Her mum was pestering her about it as well. It seemed there were very few people who thought she could cope with a farm and a baby. Selling was the only option, apparently.
She would prove them wrong.
After all, the one thing she’d realised since Charlie had died was that every single person had an opinion on what she should do now she was a widow. ‘I don’t want to sell, Mark,’ she said earnestly. ‘Charlie and I have worked too hard for me to let it all go just because he isn’t here. We have …’ She touched her neck, her face reddening. ‘Ah, we had too many dreams. I can’t take this little one’s heritage away until he or she works out if they want to farm. That wouldn’t be fair.’
He nodded. ‘So have you told Ian that?’
She fiddled with her wedding rings. ‘Yeah, I have. But he still keeps ringing.’
‘Want me to have a word?’ He started to unscrew the readout from the stand. His face was impassive, but Fiona knew him well enough to realise there was a lot running around in his mind at the moment.
‘I was just wondering if you knew if he had an order or something. If there was a reason he was so insistent.’
Mark stopped and Fiona could see him thinking about the question. He’d been their stock agent ever since Charlie had taken over Charona. Mark had been new in town when Charlie was struggling to find his feet with the farm. He had helped Charlie by giving him confidence in his own ability, talking through marketing options and explaining the markets. They’d had a business relationship for over eight years before Charlie died, and even though Mark was twenty years older than both Charlie and Fiona, they’d always got along well and had a lot of respect for each other. He would be honest and upfront with her.
‘I don’t know of anything off the top of my head, Fee.’ He frowned. ‘I reckon I’d’ve heard something. He knows I’m your stocky. We work out of the same office and he’d normally talk to me first. He’s not usually so insistent. And he’s had a few sales lately, so it’s not like he’s on Hard Luck Avenue.’
‘Really? Who’s sold? Strange time of the year to be selling, we’re halfway through a season.’ Fiona straightened at the thought.
‘They’re not settling until February next year. They’re mostly older blokes who don’t have anyone coming up behind them to take over. Henry Fairway and Craig Duttors are two of them.’
Fiona cocked her head in interest. ‘They’re next door to each other,’ she said. ‘Same buyer?’
‘Yep.’
‘Anyone local?’
Mark grinned. ‘Nosy!’ he teased.
‘Not at all! Just curious to know what’s going on in my community.’ She threw him a quick smile. ‘You never know, I might show everyone that I’ve got what it takes and buy more land!’ She gave Mark a cheeky smile.
‘That’d be cause for some conversation, for sure,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘Anyway, it’s a company doing the buying. Ian said they’ve got cropping land in New South Wales and Victoria. They want to get into stock to spread out their risk. There’s been a couple of bad years over there. They’re called BJL Holdings.’
A couple of galahs flew overhead and Fiona could hear the swish of their wings. They would be enjoying the day of sunshine, too.
‘Neither of them is that far from here. What? Fifteen kilometres away?’
‘Yeah, something like that. I think it made sense to both of them. Henry is there by himself and hasn’t got any kids. He’s nearly eighty! Got to admit, though, I never thought money would’ve made a difference to him when it came to selling, but it must’ve. No other reason to sell.’ Mark walked to his car and put the readout in the back. ‘I thought we’d have to carry him off that place in a box.’
Instantly, Fiona saw Charlie’s coffin in her mind’s eye.
‘Oh shit.’ Mark must have seen the look on her face. ‘Sorry, Fee. That was thoughtless of me.’
She gave a half-shrug. ‘It happens. Don’t worry about it. I had old Mrs Nolan come up the other day and ask,’—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“How are you, dear? Coping okay since that man of yours topped himself? Silly bugger, wasn’t he?”’
Shock passed over Mark’s face. ‘I really hope you’re joking.’
‘Unfortunately not. I wanted to slap her.’
‘Reckon you would’ve been found “not guilty” in a court of law.’
They finished loading the lamb-weighing crate onto the trailer in silence and Mark tied it on.
‘Do you want me to do anything about Ian?’ He pulled the rope tight and turned to look at her.
Fiona looked back at him uneasily. ‘I don’t know, Mark.’ She really wanted to ask what he thought, but she knew she wouldn’t get a straight answer. Not yet, anyway. He’d take it on board, watch and listen. Work out what was going on. When he had something, he’d let her know.
‘Maybe not. Maybe just leave it.’
‘You sure?’ He pushed his hat back on his head and wiped away the sweat.
‘I can deal with him. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything more to it. Doesn’t sound like there is, except him wanting to make a bit of money. I’ll be right.’ She turned and looked over her land. ‘I won’t ever sell here, Mark. Never.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, like I said. Not until I know what this little one wants to do.’
There was silence as Mark leaned into his car and turned the key. The engine roared to life and the mob of sheep took off at the noise and ran towards the fence. The first ones stopped, digging their front hooves into the ground as they realised there was a barrier in their way.
‘I spoke to Geoff last night,’ Fiona said. It had been good to talk to him, although they’d stayed off the subject of Charlie and the accident. She’d really wanted to check on him, see how he was coping. The fear of another suicide weighed heavily on her mind.
‘I’ve been talking to him too,’ Mark answered slowly. ‘At the risk of taking a huge leap of faith, I think he’s going to be okay. It will take a long time.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
They both stared out acros
s the land.
Finally, Mark asked, ‘Do you need a hand with anything? As time goes on and when the baby comes, you won’t be able to do everything you’re doing now. I’ve had kids, remember. Debby hardly moved for the last two weeks before Jarrod was born! And then the screaming …’ He put his hands over his eyes. ‘I’ll never forget …’
Fiona giggled. ‘Thanks so much. You’re really making it sound easy!’
‘But that’s just it! It isn’t, Fee. And you’re not going to have someone with you to help.’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll manage. Mum and Jo will be around. I’ve always got Meita!’ She leaned down to rub her kelpie, who was lying on her side, eyes closed, enjoying the sunshine. ‘You never know—she might make the best babysitter ever seen!’
‘You don’t think Charlie’s parents will come back?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so. I don’t need their help.’ Fiona frowned as she contemplated the thought.
‘Might be nice if they wanted to help you out. Especially with a grandchild on the way. I watched them at the funeral and it was hard to believe they were mourning their own son.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ Fiona rubbed her hands over her belly. ‘They barely spoke to me and didn’t come out here. In a way it didn’t bother me—I’m not sure I would have known what to say to them anyway. We hadn’t seen them in years. They completely wiped Charlie when he was given the farm and I didn’t help things when I gave Ronda a mouthful about being so nasty.’ Looking towards the creek, she stared at the leaves moving in the slight breeze and wondered how they could have borne to leave here. It was the most perfect place on earth, she thought. ‘I wish I knew what all that was about. Charlie never said much other than his dad was never cut out to be a farmer and would have sold the land out from under him. It had been in his family for four generations and his grandfather didn’t want it to leave the family. Can you imagine even wanting to sell this place?’ With a small smile, she waved her hands as if she were a game show hostess introducing a prize.
Mark smiled and nodded. ‘Not really, but who knows what happens inside people’s heads. It would be nice to think they’d like to spend a bit of time with their grandchild. Family is going to be important for you in the next while. Now,’ Mark changed the subject and Fiona knew it was so she wouldn’t howl down his comments. ‘Before I forget, I know of a young bloke who needs a bit of work. Let me know if you want to talk to him. He’s reliable and pretty handy with machinery.’ He gave her a hard stare. ‘I’m going to act as your father now and say there is no way you should be spraying crops while you’re pregnant. It’s not good for the baby.’
‘Thanks for the lecture!’ Fiona smiled to show she didn’t mind. Mark was one person she knew had her best interests at heart. ‘But honestly, I’ll be okay. I’m not sure the bank account will stretch to wages yet. A contractor yes, but not full-time wages. Maybe after this year, if it keeps going the way it has been. Although,’ she paused, and her eyes narrowed as she thought. ‘I don’t suppose you know if he’s a handyman? I need someone to put locks on the doors. And I’d love for someone to cut me some wood.’
‘Couldn’t tell you that, but I can ask. But why don’t you ask Rob? You know him.’
‘Rob, as in Rob Cameron, the vet?’
‘Yep. He’s pretty handy. When he’s not working, he donates his time to the old folks units—you know, fixing dripping taps and stuff I don’t understand! Says it’s relaxing. Me? I’d hit my thumb with a hammer before I could hit the nail.’
‘I won’t be asking you then! Don’t want the locks installed upside down, thanks!’
‘Good idea. Anyway, let me know if you want to talk to the bloke who’s good with machinery. His name’s Damien MacKenzie—he’s your neighbour. Know him, do you?’ He grinned widely at her and opened the door of his four-wheel drive and got in.
‘Funnily enough, I do. I’ve already spoken to him about doing some spraying for me—you’ll be happy to hear that! Lucky for me he’s a contractor, too!’
‘Good, I’d better get on. I’ll let you know when the truck is coming to pick these up and come out to give you a hand to draft.’
‘No, it’s all good. Meita and I will be able to draft by ourselves, won’t we, girl?’
The two-tan kelpie, still stretched out near Fiona’s feet, sprang up at the sound of her name and put her paws on Fiona’s stomach. She patted the dog’s head before lowering her to the ground. ‘You’ll upset the baby with those sharp claws, Miss Meita!’ She turned back to Mark. ‘Honestly, we’ll be fine. Just let me know when the truck is coming.’
‘It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help,’ he said, starting up his engine.
‘It is if you don’t need it!’
‘I’ll see you later then.’ He shook his head in exasperation before putting the car into gear and driving off, waving.
Fiona waved back to him and walked to the gate to let the sheep out. They streamed into the paddock, a mob of bleating and searching chaos. It wouldn’t be long before all the mothers found their lambs and returned to grazing.
She watched as the ewes ran around, sniffing at every lamb they came across in the hope it was their baby. Some were rewarded straightaway and their lambs, having been separated from them for a few hours, went directly for their udders, lifting the ewes’ hind legs off the ground as they suckled enthusiastically.
Fiona smiled. If nothing else, the rain, good lambs and crops were a sign that Charlie was looking out for her and her baby.
Her Hamish.
That would be his name when he was born. If he was a boy. But Fiona wasn’t thinking the baby would be anything other than that—a boy.
The creaking of the floorboards in the passageway woke Fiona. But instead of waking slowly and gently, as she normally would, she immediately felt frightened and anxious.
She was sure she could sense someone’s presence in the house. Fear lay over her like a heavy wet blanket, making her powerless to move.
Her mind raced and her stomach clenched in terror. Who was it? Why were they here? What was going on?
There it was again. Creeaaakkk, grrooaannn.
Her stomach coiled and she swallowed hard. With her heart pounding, she huddled further down in the bed, trying to ignore what she’d heard.
Where was Meita? She hadn’t barked. That made her breathe a little easier. Surely there couldn’t be anyone there if her faithful dog hadn’t alerted her.
The house was silent now and her body began to relax. She slid out of bed, trying not to make any noise.
Clutching her doona to her, Fiona tiptoed across to the door and, holding her breath, cracked it open about an inch.
There was no sign of an intruder.
She opened the door wider and put her head all the way out. Still nothing.
Sagging against the doorframe, Fiona closed her eyes and berated herself for being so foolish. After all, who did she expect? Charlie? His ghost to be looking out for her? A burglar? Ha! Now that was funny. Not funny haha. Funny, stupid. Not out here.
She pulled her doona tighter and plodded out into the passage to put the kettle on. She wouldn’t be able to sleep much more now.
After making herself a hot chocolate, Fiona went across the passageway into the office, hoping Will would be on the end of the computer.
‘You there?’ she typed.
‘I am,’ he replied as soon as she’d hit the enter button. ‘What’s happening? Can’t sleep?’
‘Just scared myself silly.’
‘What a good idea. Any reason why? Bored or something?’
Fiona couldn’t help but giggle at his sarcasm. ‘Thought there was someone outside my bedroom door.’
‘What gave you that brainwave?’
‘The floor creaked …’ Even typing it now, she felt ridiculous. Why had something so normal made her feel so frightened? Something niggled in the back of her mind—it wasn’t normal. That was the creak the floorboards always gave when some
one trod on them.
‘Don’t you lock your doors?’
‘Ha! You’ve got to be joking. This house is so old you couldn’t lock anything if you tried. The screen door doesn’t even shut properly.’
‘Seriously, you don’t lock your doors?’
In her mind, Fiona could hear Will’s voice and his incredulous tone. She supposed it did sound strange to someone living in New York.
‘Serious. The doors don’t lock. They never have. It’s quite normal in old farm houses. I don’t know anyone who locks their house. The best we do out here in the sticks is lock the front gate while we’re away, but even then, it’s not something we really like to do because it brings attention to the fact you’re not home.’
‘You might need to get that fixed. Have you got someone to do it for you? I’d offer to help, but being so far way and all …’
Chuckling out loud, she tapped the laughing emoticon. Will wouldn’t know one end of a screwdriver from the other. Then she started to type again:
‘You know what I think it was?’
‘No.’
‘I reckon it was a dream. Dreamt something which I can’t remember and it woke me. The house must have moved or expanded or did whatever it does, then the boards creaked and I got scared. That’s all it can be.’
‘You need to get someone to fix your dreams.’
‘And your doors.’
Chapter 4
Dave Burrows slammed his hand on the table and glared at the internal investigations detective in front of him.
‘I’ve told you. I did what I thought was right at the time. I saved her life. There wasn’t any other choice.’
‘You were instructed to wait for the Special Tactics and Rescue team.’ James Glover clicked his pen and looked at Dave as if he were a piece of shit.
‘There would have been more public outcry if he’d killed her,’ he stated flatly.
Dave hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he’d received an email, ordering him to attend a hearing regarding his actions during his last investigation. It had been the case of Dominic Alberto, his wife, Ashleigh, or Eliza as she became known, and the poaching of native wildlife from the national park in the Flinders Ranges.
Sapphire Falls Page 4
