When it was delivered she reacted with surprise, then looked over at him. He tilted his head, gave her a slow smile and raised his own glass to her. Embarrassed, she looked down and returned to her book, pushing the glass of wine to the corner of the table, untouched. That just enflamed his desire. And his anger. He didn’t like to be dismissed.
He imagined her in his bed; he would tie her up. He would spank her, pull her hair. Oh, how he’d love to hear her scream. He knew she’d enjoy it. In his experience it was the quiet ones who were always the feistiest. Blindfolding them seemed to really heighten their senses. Once they were blindfolded, he could do anything with them.
He licked his lips, desperate to taste her skin, and tried to control his breathing. This was no good. He was already too worked up. He shifted uncomfortably. He was so hard, his dick stretched against his denim jeans, the material unyielding and painful. He had to stay where he was.
So when she walked out the door, there was nothing he could do but let her go.
Half an hour later, he walked into a whorehouse and requested a prostitute. One who liked it rough, he insisted.
Chapter 12
That evening, Fiona stoked the fire, grateful for the wood Rob had brought. She turned on the TV, before looking over at Charlie’s chair. She needed to feel close to him.
She missed him all the time, but tonight she’d wanted to talk to him, to share her excitement of having new lambs on the ground. To talk crops, feeding regimens and things that only a farmer would understand. To tell him about the lambs going over the fence and how there were snails around so soon in the season.
But he wasn’t here. She glanced at the urn, which she’d brought into the lounge with her, just so she could be near part of him. It hurt her eyes to look at it.
Could she sit in his chair? Would she feel closer to him if she did? It was one thing she hadn’t done yet. Oh, she snuggled into his side of the bed and wore his jumpers, just so she could be inside something of his, but she hadn’t sat in his chair.
She ran her hands over the arms of the chair before lowering herself into it. Closed her eyes and imagined Charlie sitting there, talking to her, drinking a beer. Smiling at her, before changing the channel or reaching out to hold her hand as she sat in the chair next to him.
‘You’re doing great, Fee. Don’t worry about anything. She’ll be right.’
Her eyes flew open and she looked around. His voice sounded so real, even though she knew it was only in her mind. Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed quickly. She couldn’t get maudlin. It would be the end of her tonight, if she did. Knowing she needed a distraction, Fiona tried to make her brain focus on what else she could do.
Tea. She’d get herself some tea.
In the kitchen she grabbed the lamb chops that had been defrosting on the sink and ripped the bag open. Methodically she cut up a salad and seasoned the chops, before starting to heat the frying pan.
Outside, Meita set off a round of ferocious barking.
Fiona froze, her heart starting to thump in her chest. She waited, listening. Meita never barked unless there was a reason. It was a bark Fiona had never heard before—certainly not one warning of arriving visitors.
She sounded savage.
Fiona could almost imagine her lunging at the end of her chain, trying to get at whatever was out there.
There was only silence now. An engulfing silence that threatened to swallow her. She started towards the door, but Meita let off a new round of barking, even more vicious than before.
Fear prickled her skin into goosebumps and her stomach was in knots. She stared at the blank window, seeing nothing but darkness.
Then she heard it. A low, guttural howl.
Instantly, she knew it wasn’t Meita.
Fiona couldn’t breathe.
The howl sounded again. In her head, she heard Charlie again. ‘Get the gun, get the gun.’
Abruptly, Fiona ran to the gun cabinet and pulled out the shotgun. Jamming two bullets into the barrel, she cocked it and made sure it was ready to fire, then ran towards the front door.
She stopped, listening. Where was it? Where was that bastard of a wild dog? She’d never felt an urge to kill like she did now.
She flicked off the lights, then opened the door. Peering outside, she realised she didn’t have a spotlight or any other way of seeing where it was.
Fiona wasn’t about to let Meita off the chain in case she took up its scent and followed it.
Easing onto the verandah, she tried to make out if the dog was anywhere close by. It moved stealthily so it would be hard to hear.
But there it was. Standing at the end of the verandah, looking at her. Yellow in colour and its tongue hanging out, unmoving, its eyes reflecting the moonlight.
Fiona stared at it, all her fear gone. Slowly she raised the shotgun and aimed. It stared back at her, its eyes not shifting from her.
Meita started to bark again and the spell was broken. The wild dog took a step into the darkness and was gone.
Dearest Kim, Fiona wrote in her text message. I know you’re heading to Adelaide today for more tests. I’m thinking of you and sending you every good wish I can. Let me know how you go when you feel you can.
As she hit ‘send’, she heard her mother call out to her. ‘Yoo-hoo, Fee! Where are you?’ Then she lowered her voice, but Fiona could still hear her. ‘I know you’re here somewhere, because Meita is here and so is the ute.’ She called out again, ‘Fee?’
‘In here, in the shed,’ Fiona finally answered as she wiped her hands on an oily rag and walked out into the dull light of an overcast day.
She’d been checking to see what stores of wool packs and lice treatment she had for shearing, in case she needed to buy anything extra, then decided to check the oil in the tractor that hadn’t been used since Charlie’s death. She thought she might pull it out today, make sure it started, and give it a run.
Summer would be upon them in no time. The paddocks would become a baked golden—barley and wheat crops standing tall and straight, the heads plump and full of grain. The sky an endless blue, heat mirages shimmering in the distance. It wouldn’t be too long before she would need to hook the tractor up to the chaser bin for harvest. She needed to make sure it was all in working order.
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she muttered to herself and took out her notepad to jot down a couple of points. When Damien MacKenzie turned up tomorrow to start spraying, she’d need to ask him if he would contract harvest for her. Fiona was sure she’d be able to drive the chaser bin, but not the header.
‘Hello, darling.’
‘Hi. Soooo,’ she dragged out the word and turned to Carly, who was patting Meita. ‘I haven’t seen you since. How was the big date?’
Carly flicked her hand coyly. ‘Oh, that seems like an age ago! A lot has happened since then! I can’t even remember.’
‘Yeah, right, Mum! It was last week. But,’ she waved her hand around airily, knowing that Carly was dying to tell her. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!’ She lifted her eyes to the range of hills behind her mother. ‘Come on, get inside, quick! We’re about to get rained on.’ She turned and went back into the shearing-cum-machinery shed and turned on the lights. As they flooded the interior, the misty drops started to land on the tin roof. She stopped and looked out of the doorway. Raindrops fell into puddles and created ripples. There had already been an inch of rainfall this week and the pools that hadn’t soaked into the soil were very large.
The sound of running water came from the side of the shed, where the rainwater tank was overflowing—something that rarely happened. Fiona sighed happily as she huddled into her jacket and pulled the hood over her head.
‘Isn’t this beautiful?’ she asked above the noise of the rain, which had become heavier, as she sat down on a wool bale. ‘I love the rain.’
‘Oh, me, too,’ Carly agreed. ‘Me, too.’
They both stared out at the countryside through a curtain
of rain. The sheep were tucked up under the bushes and gum trees and Fiona could just see them. The creek closest to the shed still had water from the previous downfall and she knew it would start to flow very soon.
She couldn’t hear the whoosh of cars that passed by her front gate, but she could see their lights as they came around the corner, into the dip of the creek and up past her driveway.
Thankfully, she didn’t feel as cold and bleak as the day itself. She turned her attention back to Carly.
‘Now, quickly, before I forget, Rob came and put the locks in for me, you’ll be thrilled to know. And he brought a load of firewood! Means I don’t have to be stingy in lighting the fire anymore.’
Carly smiled. ‘Great. That’s one job I can cross off my list. What a lovely man.’
‘So,’ Fiona looked at her mum expectantly. ‘You’re not getting away with it. Spill! Tell me how it was.’
Carly toyed with a bit of wool that was escaping the confines of the bale before saying, ‘It was really very nice.’
A half-grin played around Fiona’s mouth. ‘Is that right? Well, I’m really very pleased!’ She got up to start tidying the workshop bench. ‘I can’t sit still, Mum, I have to do something. I’m just going to put all these tools away, while you keep talking.’
Carly followed her over to the bench and looked at the shadow board and the mismatched tools lying around. ‘Don’t think I can help much here, I’m afraid!’
‘It’s easy, all you’ve got to do is match up the tool to the picture.’ With deft hands, Fiona hung a hammer and a spanner over their outlines and turned back to do it again. ‘I should have done this ages ago, but I couldn’t face being in here, touching the things he had touched last.’
Carly reached out and put her hand on Fiona’s arm to still her. Startled, Fiona looked over at her.
‘I am so proud of you,’ Carly said in a low voice. ‘So proud that you took this farming game on and gave it your best, the way you’ve coped with everything since … Well, since Charlie died. And before. You are an incredible and inspirational young woman, and I’m so pleased you’re my daughter.’ She left her hand there a little longer, then patted her arm and withdrew.
Fiona wasn’t sure what to say—it was so unlike her mother to show any emotion. Maybe Scott was a good influence on her!
Clearing her throat, she hung up different-sized ring spanners. ‘I’m glad, Mum. I had a pretty good mentor.’ She turned around, brandishing a tyre lever. ‘Now, tell me about your date or I might have to get violent!’
The rain eased back to a drizzle, the melodious noise on the roof creating beautiful music for a story. But when Fiona saw the look on Carly’s face, she knew that, really, nothing had to be said. Her mother had been hit by Cupid’s arrow.
‘We went to the fish-and-chips takeaway place in Port Germein, then took a stroll down to the jetty and ate about halfway out on the benches there.’
‘Cripes, must have been cold!’ Fiona had just about cleared the workshop bench and was heading towards the chemical-storage room to see which sprays were left from last year.
‘It was a little fresh, but I didn’t really notice. Not for the first bit, anyway. We talked—do you know he’s the only person I’ve come across who loves apple-and-vegemite sandwiches like I do?’
Fiona let out a laugh. ‘You must be destined to be together, then!’
‘Oh, be like that,’ Carly huffed, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. ‘I thought it might be difficult—you know, him being your doctor and so on, but it’s not. He never even mentions work. You wouldn’t know he was a doctor.’
‘So when are you seeing him next?’
‘I’ve seen him every day since. We’re going back to Port Germein on the weekend to do some fishing.’
But Fiona barely heard what her mother said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at a dusty twenty-litre insect-spray container. Strangely, the handle of the chemical drum was clean. It shouldn’t have been. All the others were dusty. She could see where a hand had wrapped around the handle. Given this would last have been used twelve months ago, she found that more than a little odd.
She checked around but couldn’t see anything out of place. Maybe Charlie had come in here to check things before he died. Maybe he’d even sat in here to hide from her, hide from what she saw as love and concern but what he’d seen as intrusive and meddling behaviour. She knew he’d certainly avoided her at times. ‘Oh, Charlie,’ she whispered. She ran her hands over the drum, wanting to touch something he had touched.
‘Fee?’ Carly was at the door to the chemical-storage room.
She hoisted the drum back to the floor with a groan, banging it against her stomach as she did so.
‘Fiona!’
Surprised at Carly’s sharp tone, she snapped back, ‘What?’
‘You shouldn’t be lifting something that heavy. You might hurt the baby.’
Just then Fiona’s mobile phone beeped, and she was thankful for the distraction. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw the text was from Kim. Thank you, sweetie, I’m pulling out all good thoughts too. Xxx
‘Fiona! Did you hear me?’
‘Yes, Mum. Don’t worry, I’m fine. The baby’s fine. We’re all good.’
‘When’s your next appointment to see Scott?’
‘Next week.’
‘Make sure you tell him you’re lifting things.’
‘If I don’t, I’m pretty sure you will.’
Meita, who had been snoozing in the corner, sensed the tension in the air. She gave a short, sharp bark and Carly a look of disdain as she got up and moved to sit next to Fiona.
Carly bit back a smile. ‘I’m obviously outvoted!’
‘Exactly. Come on, it’s lunchtime and I need something to eat.’
‘Do you feel faint?’ Carly immediately asked.
‘No, Mum, I’m just hungry!’ Exasperated, Fiona stomped out into the grey day and took a deep breath of cold air. The chill on her cheeks made her stop and gasp a little as another wave of rain started to fall. She dug her hands deep in her pockets, trying to keep them warm.
In the distance there was the growl of an engine and she swung around to look up the road. A John Deere tractor, a large orange flashing light on its roof, rounded the bend. The engine noise rumbled up the creek line. Towing a massive spray rig, it slowed down, turning into the Charona driveway.
‘Who’s that?’ Carly asked.
‘Damien MacKenzie. He’s coming to do some spraying for me. I need to talk to him, show him which paddocks and that sort of thing.’ She gave a wave and directed him towards the fuel bowser.
‘I’ll organise the lunch then, shall I?’
‘Oh, Mum, that would be brilliant.’ Her irritability had disappeared and in its place was tiredness. She’d experienced this before, when someone had taken charge, just for a moment. It meant she didn’t have to keep going, be responsible for everything; she could just focus on one thing at a time.
Damien climbed down the first few steps of the tractor, his Driza-Bone jacket flapping around his ankles, then jumped the rest of the way. He landed in a puddle that splashed up underneath his coat. ‘Bugger!’ he swore.
Fiona giggled a little. ‘Wet jeans now, Damien. Aren’t they awful? Cold and heavy!’
‘Every time I’ve got out of the tractor today, I’ve managed to jump into some bloody water. Look!’ He lifted his jacket to show his mud-splattered jeans.
‘Don’t complain! There’s money in mud, not dust, and it’s usually dusty here. You’ll just have a bit of washing to do tonight.’ Grabbing the maps from the dashboard of her ute, she indicated for him to follow her, then scurried out of the rain and into the shearing shed, Damien following.
‘I know, I know. Not often we get seasons like this here. But in this country, well, we’ll end up spending all the time bogged if this keeps up. I’ve still got so much to do.’ He sounded exasperated.
‘You can’t spray when it’s raining,’ Fio
na reminded him.
‘Yeah, fair call,’ Damien shot her a grin. ‘I need patience, apparently. That’s what my gran is telling me all the time.’
‘How is your gran?’ Fiona asked, knowing just the two of them lived in the family home on the neighbouring farm and that he looked after the elderly lady as much as he could.
‘She’s getting a bit frail. So, what have you got for me?’ The younger man looked at her expectantly. He was only in his twenties and he ran this business to help make some money on the side. It seemed to be how so many younger farmers had to do it these days. Many went shearing, while others ran a contract business, like Damien, and she’d heard of a few who had taken jobs at the mines, leaving their family or wives at home to manage the farm while they were gone.
‘Okay.’ She handed him the recommendations Jo had written out, then spread out the maps on top of a wool bale and spoke above the drumming of rain on the tin roof. ‘I need you to spray the Creek Paddock, Hollies and this one here, up against the boundary fence.’ She pointed to a clearly marked gateway. ‘In this paddock there’s a mob of lambs that I’ve only just got back from the neighbours. Reckon that wild dog pushed them over, so if you could be a bit careful around them coz they’re still a bit flighty.’
Damien nodded and they swung around as Meita began to bark. A muddy LandCruiser pulled up next to the shed and Leigh Bounter got out. He sprinted across to where they were standing.
‘Ah, here’s my ride,’ Damien said. ‘No point in starting now with the rain around—can’t spray in the wet, as you just reminded me!’
‘I was a little surprised when you said you were coming today, with the forecast,’ Fiona turned. ‘Hi, Leigh.’
‘Howdy, all.’ He took off his Akubra and shook the rain off its brim.
Fiona finished giving Damien her instructions, then rolled up the map and handed it to him. ‘Okay?’ she asked.
‘No problems.’
‘I’ll be somewhere around if you need a hand. The two-way channel is thirty-two, if needs be. But you know all that, being the neighbour and all! When do you think you’ll be back?’
Sapphire Falls Page 11
