Charlotte's Creek

by Therese Creed

  Chapter 14

  Over the weeks that followed, Lucy conducted several more lessons in the tamarind tree, much to the children’s pleasure. With their help, she also picked out several other novelty classrooms: the loft in the hayshed, her own cottage, Gwen’s garden gazebo, and, on one occasion, the hideout in Ginger Ridge. Dennis dropped them there one morning, with all their books and school equipment and plenty of food, and picked them up on his way home at sunset.

  Lucy found the extra logistics of organising lessons away from the schoolroom a small price to pay for the difference it made to the children’s attitude. She tried to make sure that outdoor school happened at least twice a week, and used it as a reward for effort during more conventional lessons. She discovered that she could almost always loosely link something from their chosen outdoor setting into the day’s curriculum, and became adept at altering lessons to suit the children’s interests, without actually changing the content.

  As she was preparing the lunches one day, Lucy half-listened to the children’s chatter on the veranda outside, where Mel had set them to work washing down the walls.

  ‘School is getting much easier,’ Lucy heard Cooper remark, and immediately she stopped buttering the bread and pricked up her ears. ‘I reckon I must be getting smarter.’

  ‘’Bout time you grew a brain,’ Billie’s voice replied. ‘But I reckon it’s Lucy. She mightn’t be real tough or handy, but she’s a bloody good guvvie.’

  Lucy flushed with unexpected pleasure, touched by the compliment.

  Weekends for Lucy were generally peaceful, as she usually managed to complete her school preparation for the following week on Friday afternoons, leaving her free to enjoy some time alone and recover her energy. Lucy’s only occasional weekend obligation was her visits with Gwen, and the children were most often away from the house, helping Dennis and Mel, or riding their bikes and ponies.

  On a number of weekends, she was persuaded to visit stations belonging to the ladies of the CWA. Each family she visited was overwhelmingly hospitable, lavishing her with the best their homes and properties had to offer. She was treated to guided tours by numerous bachelor sons and grandsons, ranging from the excruciatingly shy to the uncomfortably overfamiliar, and varying in age from late teens to mid-forties.

  Dennis also drove her and the children to his best friend Lance McCann’s property, Star Fields. He was delivering two young horses to Lance’s younger brother, Rowdy, for breaking in. Here Lucy met the much-talked-of Lance, better known as Lackey, and his lovely wife Diane. But when Dennis left her alone in the shed with Rowdy, she felt very awkward, all the more so when she saw how shy he was in her presence. Rowdy’s severe stutter was a painful hindrance to any conversation Lucy tried to begin, and the pointed winks and chuckles from the two older men when they finally returned did nothing to improve the situation. But when they stopped at the yards on the way home to watch Rowdy handling a young horse, Lucy was spellbound, and saw no trace of his former timidity.

  At first, Lucy’s vegetable garden didn’t prove quite so successful as the outdoor lessons. The children had helped her dig two more small plots, but the hard-packed soil proved lacking in nutrients. The tomatoes were only just surviving, and the corn plants, which had initially delighted Lucy with their vigorous growth, were also a disappointment. Ted had looked over the fence at them and asked her when she’d decided to become a sorghum farmer, at which point she’d learned that they weren’t corn at all, and would yield nothing better than a few ears of grain suitable only for animal fodder.

  Ted hadn’t said anything at the time, but perhaps noting her downcast expression, he’d turned up the next evening with an ancient rotary hoe, and in minutes, created a rectangle of neatly ploughed soil in the corner of the cottage yard. Lucy laughed when she saw it, thinking of the hours she and the kids had spent just scratching the surface of the small plots. Ted then returned with the tractor, its bucket brimming with cow manure and soil from the yards.

  With renewed vigour, Lucy pulled out her sorghum, replanted the tomatoes and made a special trip to Ingham to buy seedlings of various other vegetables. It was primarily her reluctance to abandon the infant vegetables that made Lucy decide to stay at Charlotte’s Creek over the Easter holidays, and she was able to refuse with cheerful conviction when Cheryl Bolton rang to inform her that she was ‘needed’ at Greenoaks to fill a maternity leave position for terms two and three.

  Over the three months since her arrival at Charlotte’s Creek, Lucy had become increasingly aware of her inexperience in all facets of property life, and she used every opportunity over the holidays to gather information. She soon discovered that the children had an intimate working knowledge of most things in their world. Unlike the adults, they never seemed to tire of answering her questions, although they made no secret of the fact that they thought her very ignorant.

  Gwen invited her to morning tea several times over the break. Lucy generally enjoyed these visits, Gwen was always so kind and Lucy was aware of the older woman’s loneliness. But she found Gwen still intent on causing trouble between herself and Mel, and this made her uncomfortable. On the last of these occasions, Lucy excused herself earlier than usual. It was the final weekend of the school holidays, and there was a three-day muster going on at the paddocks in the vicinity of Cabbage Tree yards. Mel had been muttering at breakfast about the ‘swag of ringers to be fed’, so, after apologising to Gwen, Lucy hurried over to the main house to offer her assistance.

  ‘Run the smoko out to Cabbage Tree in the ute, would you?’ Mel asked, as soon as Lucy appeared. Then noticing Lucy’s worried expression, she added, ‘Molly’ll go along to show you the way.’

  The other three children had already headed out with the ringers, but Molly had stayed home to look after Bear. The old blue dog was feeling low after sustaining a nasty kick to the muzzle from a bad-tempered cow. Apologetically, Lucy admitted that she couldn’t drive a manual vehicle.

  Mel threw up her hands. ‘Where’s a bloody eleven-year-old when you need one?’ she said. ‘Cooper’s been driving that thing since he was nine!’

  ‘I could go in my own car,’ Lucy offered.

  ‘Forget it,’ Mel said, laughing derisively. She stormed around the kitchen, grumbling about Lucy’s ‘plastic, automatic buzz box’.

  Lucy exchanged a concerned glance with Molly as Mel picked up the heavy esky. When Lucy tried to take the weight of one end, the older woman pushed her aside. She thudded down the veranda steps, still muttering angrily. Through the open door, Lucy watched her lugging the esky to the ute; then Mel spun the wheels and sped away in a cloud of dust.

  For today, Lucy knew, she was the whipping boy, yet for some reason Mel’s comments never upset her as the criticism from the mothers of her Sydney students had done. Perhaps it was because she’d gained an insight into Mel’s state of mind. And Mel’s malice wasn’t selective; it stung everyone equally, weak and strong alike. Underneath it all, Lucy got the distinct impression that Mel liked her, and in spite of the older woman’s frequent bad temper, Lucy found herself liking Mel more and more in return.

  All at once, Bear lifted his chin from his paws and pricked up his ears, pushing himself up onto his calloused elbows. The end of his tail thumped the ground in welcoming recognition, while his head turned as if following the passage of an old friend across the room, not far from where Lucy was standing. Molly looked up and smiled also, not at Lucy, but at the same patch of air that Bear was gazing into. Lucy looked back and forth from their faces to the empty space in front of her, but apart from a few floating particles catching the light, she could see nothing. She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps. It was the closest she’d come to encountering Lotte.

  She walked over to the window. Some of the dust from Mel’s ute was still suspended in the still air. The Grey Lady wasn’t the only woman around here needing help, Lucy realised. She must help Mel more. Then and there she decided to do whatever it took to increase her range of pra
ctical skills.

  Late that afternoon, when the other children had returned from Cabbage Tree, Lucy called a treehouse meeting and told the children of her plan to ‘skill up’.

  When she’d finished, the kids looked at each other for a moment in silence. ‘Teaching a townie this stuff won’t be easy,’ Cooper said ominously, ‘but someone’s got to do it.’

  It was decided that he would teach Lucy how to drive a manual and the basics of horse riding. Billie would teach her to ride a quad bike and how to start a diesel pump and generator. The twins offered to take Lucy for a shed tour to identify all the mysterious tools, machines and animal fodder. All in all, the four children seemed quite taken with the notion of ‘training’ Lucy.

  Lucy’s first riding lesson was scheduled for two days after the treehouse meeting. When they’d finished school for the day, she hung back in the schoolroom, gathering her courage, while she made some preparations for the following day’s lessons. Then she went to the kitchen to find the twins having their lunch. Cooper and Billie had already gone over to the yards.

  ‘Lucy,’ Molly said urgently, ‘we need a word in your ear before you go over to Coop.’

  ‘Shunter’s a pig rooter, see,’ Wade said, his expression serious. Molly nodded confirmation.

  ‘Wade!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’

  ‘But he is! I’m telling you—’

  ‘Stop now!’ Lucy commanded. ‘I don’t ever want to hear you using such language.’

  Molly looked at Lucy doubtfully, but Wade’s expression was scornful.

  Cooper had Shunter saddled and waiting in the largest timber yard by the time Lucy walked over, trying to look unconcerned and relaxed. She’d only seen the pony from a distance before, and as she came closer her face broke into a relieved smile. Shunter was only little, and his face under its shock of wiry hair looked endearingly innocent. His mane and tail were dusty black and reminded Lucy of a scratchy broom. His legs, downy face and muzzle were also black, but the coarse hair on his tubby little body was grey with a shadow of dappling across his flanks. He reminded Lucy of a picture on a ceramic teapot stand.

  While Molly, Wade and Billie perched on the top rail of the yard to watch, Cooper showed Lucy how to mount by putting her left foot in the stirrup and pulling herself up into the saddle. She did so awkwardly, and Shunter’s head shot up in surprise when Lucy landed heavily on the seat.

  ‘Oh . . . am I too big for him?’ she asked in consternation.

  ‘You? Not bloody likely.’ Cooper laughed. ‘Ted’s done a full day mustering on him a few times. Sorted him out, that did.’

  He handed Lucy the reins. While she was still fumbling with them, Shunter stepped off briskly. Molly called, ‘Shorten those reins a bit, Lucy, and make him stand again!’

  ‘Shut your gob, Molly!’ Billie sneered. ‘As if you’d know!’

  Lucy tried to stay as calm as possible, but the pony’s movements were quick and perky and he felt like a rocket on the verge of lift-off. She tried pulling gently on the reins to slow him down. But Shunter tossed his pretty head, pulling them through her fingers and loosening them again. They did several laps of the yard before Lucy relaxed and even began to enjoy the rhythm.

  ‘Now for some steering,’ Cooper said. ‘Pull on a rein, depending on which way you wanna go. I’ll put some rocks here for you to zigzag.’ Lucy continued to follow the fence around while Cooper arranged the rocks. ‘Have a crack at that,’ he called when he’d finished.

  It was surprisingly easy. The pony turned with the slightest pressure.

  ‘You’re doing bloody good, Lucy!’ bellowed Wade.

  Lucy was delighted. ‘Yes! I’m doing it!’ It wasn’t so difficult, after all. Suddenly Lucy pictured herself swinging along behind a mob of cattle, one hand on the reins like Bri or Tash, with the dogs humming around her.

  She zigzagged back along the line of rocks, then decided she would halt in front of Cooper for some more detailed instructions. She pulled on the reins and spoke with authority. ‘Whoa!’ Shunter tossed his head again, but this time Lucy was ready and hung on. Rather than stopping, though, the pony took the bit in his teeth, pulled on the reins and walked faster, swishing his tail.

  ‘Turn him in a circle!’ Molly called. ‘Make him listen to you, Lucy!’

  Lucy immediately did as instructed, and around they whirled until Shunter finally stopped.

  ‘You had enough already?’ Cooper asked, walking over.

  ‘Certainly not!’ Lucy answered. ‘I just want some more instructions. Why won’t he stop for me?’

  ‘Oh, he’s always a bugger about stopping,’ Cooper replied. ‘He’s full of beans. Wants a good gallop. Give him a few laps at a trot. Show him who’s boss. That’s what Dad says.’

  Shunter’s head was still turned to the side and he was chewing on the bit now. Lucy straightened him up, and without waiting for a signal from her, the pony stepped off quickly.

  ‘Bump him on now,’ Cooper called.

  ‘How?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Little kick.’

  Lucy touched the pony’s plump sides with her heels and he sprang forward into a fast trot. It felt incredibly uneven, and Lucy was bounced jerkily up and down. The pony’s tail swished in annoyance, and then the reins slid through Lucy’s fingers again as he unexpectedly thrust his head down. The trot turned into a canter for a few strides, then a crow hop, and finally he humped his round little back until Lucy was flung off to one side. She landed heavily, her shoulder and nose hitting the dirt first.

  Shunter tossed his head and pranced away to the other side of the yard. Lucy lay stunned, aware that Molly was screaming from what seemed a long way away, ‘You’ve killed her, Cooper, you rotten basket!’

  Lucy felt pounding footsteps. Billie reached her side first. ‘You’re dead, Coop,’ she remarked quietly. ‘Wait till Mum finds out.’

  Cooper arrived next and swore to himself.

  ‘Holy heck, guvvie blood!’ said Wade. ‘You reckon she’s dead? Townies have soft noggins, eh.’

  Lucy kept her eyes shut, but her senses were righting themselves. She touched her cheek and felt a sticky wetness.

  ‘She moved!’ shrieked Molly. ‘I’m gonna get Mum!’

  ‘No you’re not, you little rat,’ shouted Cooper, and the sounds of a scuffle ensued. ‘Do I have to tie you up?’

  Lucy opened her eyes and Molly stopped struggling in Cooper’s grasp. They all watched in solemn silence as Lucy pushed herself up slowly to sit, her hand over her nose.

  ‘Here.’ Cooper ripped the half-unstitched pocket from his shirt front and handed it to her. ‘I was saving that for an emergency.’ His face was stricken with remorse. Lucy took the insubstantial piece of cloth and dabbed her chin then plugged her nose, which was still dripping blood. The small square was soon soaked.

  ‘Is it just your nose that’s bleeding?’ Billie wanted to know.

  ‘Struth, Lucy,’ Cooper leaned in for a closer look, ‘I never meant for that to happen!’ He turned and climbed through the rails before sprinting off towards the shed.

  ‘That’s bull, Coop!’ Billie yelled after him. ‘You knew she’d have a buster!’

  He quickly returned with a grimy rag. Handing it to Lucy, he panted, ‘I never reckoned she’d get hurt, but.’ He looked earnestly at Lucy. ‘Just a normal old buster was what I had in mind.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ Lucy remarked sarcastically, her voice muffled by the rag.

  ‘I swear!’ Cooper went on. ‘I never meant to make you bleed. Do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do, Cooper.’

  ‘Have I put the wind up you?’ he asked, his face repentant. ‘Are you gonna leave and take off back to town again now?’

  ‘Is that what you’re hoping?’ Lucy fixed her eye on him challengingly over the top of the rag.

  ‘Bloody oath, no!’ Cooper said. Then, apparently afraid of seeming overzealous, he modified his answer. ‘You’re a bit better than the
other guvvies, anyway. And Mum really likes you. I can tell, even though she’s still a cow to you!’

  The wind had been well and truly knocked out of Lucy’s sails by the fall. But on hearing this piece of information, her crumpled canvas began to unfold again and even to billow a little, and she experienced a new burst of courage.

  ‘I trusted you.’ Lucy spoke accusingly, and Cooper looked at the toe of his boot, which was shifting a stone around.

  Lucy went on, ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do . . .’

  Four faces looked at her with fearful expectancy.

  ‘. . . I’m going to get back on Shunter.’ They all gaped. She stood up and tentatively removed the rag. The flow had slowed to a drizzle. ‘Now, while I wait for this to stop,’ she continued, ‘you, Cooper, are going to tell me what I need to do differently when I get on again.’

  ‘You fair dinkum?’ he asked.

  Lucy raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Righto.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘This time, don’t let him walk off straight up. Make him wait till you’re ready. I’ll show you how to get a grip on the reins.’ He turned towards the pony. ‘And stick to a walk. Make him stop, turn and boss him a bit till you get him listening.’

  ‘What do I do if he speeds up again?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Bend him real tight,’ Cooper said. ‘In a little circle. Same thing if he starts to hump up again, or any other silly rot. He can’t pig-root when his body’s bent.’

  ‘Oh . . . pig-root.’ Lucy smiled to herself as realisation dawned. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Don’t let him get his head down again.’

  ‘Right.’ Lucy gave her nose one more dab with the rag and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve learned that lesson . . . I think.’

  ‘I’ll go and give him a bit of a tune-up first.’ Cooper jogged over to Shunter and leapt effortlessly into the saddle in one fluid motion. He bumped the pony straight into a canter, whipping hard with the end of the reins at the first hint of opposition. Around they went, until Shunter was in a lather of sweat. Then Cooper began to stop him, back him and turn him. They zigzagged through the rocks and trotted several figure eights. Lucy watched enviously. For swishing his tail and pulling on the bit, Shunter received several more hard slaps with the reins.