Family Farm

by Palmer, Fiona

  ‘Come on, Izzy. You can’t avoid me forever.’

  Another deafening clang was her only response and the only one he was likely to get. With a muttered, ‘Fine,’ he cranked up his bike, pushed it backwards out of the shed and opened the throttle, doing a wheelie as he sped off.

  Izzy just kept banging away as if nothing had happened. Eventually, the rubber fell away from the rim. Using the back of her sleeve, she wiped the beads of sweat from her brow.

  As she fixed the small hole in the tube, she realised she needed some answers or else she would go stark raving mad. Since she was determined not to talk to Will – perhaps ever again – there was only one other solution. She decided to leave for Perth in the morning to visit her dad. The rest of the farm work was minor and could wait until her return.

  ‘You’ll have to stay home this time, mate,’ she said to Tom, who was lying on the concrete floor. ‘I don’t think you’d have any fun in the city. But don’t worry, old boy. I’ll make sure you have a big bowl of kibbles to eat.’

  The next morning Izzy threw her bag into the ute, climbed into the driver’s seat and called out a farewell to Tom, who was locked up in the dog yard by the shed. He was giving her the sad puppy-dog look – one that had worked well when he was a pup which he had since continued to use when he wasn’t getting his way. But he was safer at home; she wasn’t changing her mind, no matter how cute he looked. ‘You be a good dog and take care of the place, okay?’ It was a long drive to Perth. She plugged in her MP3 player, found the right frequency and cranked up the volume. She’d loaded a few new songs onto it last night so she didn’t get too sick of the same ones – a few tracks off Shannon Noll’s new album, plus some Coldplay and Rihanna. She was only allowed to play Rihanna when Tom wasn’t in the ute. He didn’t like modern pop music at all. Lee Kernaghan was his favourite, along with any old Aussie rock songs. Tom was a country dog through and through.

  Heading to the big smoke was a good way to avoid Will. Izzy wasn’t sure why she was so angry with him – maybe for keeping the truth from her. And she was still a bit confused about her feelings for Will after the bin party. He’d explained that Angela had come on to him and that he hadn’t reciprocated, but what worried her was the fact that seeing it had irked her so much. They were weird feelings she didn’t have time to think about – and didn’t want to think about. Instead she thought about Claire, her baby and Will. Why had no one told her about the baby? Didn’t they think she’d cope with it?

  She arrived in Corrigin sooner than expected, her mind running away with her thoughts. She had a quick toilet stop and got back on the road towards Brookton.

  Two and a half hours later she was on the outskirts of Perth. She stopped and stretched to wake herself up before hitting the Albany Highway again. She needed to be more attentive in the frantic city traffic, not like out in the bush where the road stretched before you with nothing but your car and maybe the odd rabbit or kangaroo. But she’d been to Perth enough times to know her way around and the busy roads didn’t bother her. Soon she was pulling into the car park near the hospital. It was the first time she had been to a hospital in the city, let alone the Royal Perth. Apparently, it had a great burns unit. Her dad was in the best of care, so everyone kept telling her.

  She locked up the car, ran her hands over her hair and brushed the creases out of her linen pants and light blue cotton top before picking up the bag of papers and magazines she’d brought from home. Feeling nervous, she walked towards the large entry doors of the hospital. She had to admit she was worried about seeing her old man and how he would look. The memory of his burnt legs and the abnormal colour of his charred skin mixed with the horrid smell of singed flesh made her shudder. She was sure it would stay with her for life. It made her wonder how her dad coped with the image of Claire lying on the concrete next to the silos. Had her eyes been open and lifeless when he found her? Were her limbs broken and twisted? She’d never asked, and her dad would probably never tell her anyway. It wasn’t something you talked about, but after Claire’s funeral Izzy often had nightmares of Claire lying with pools of blood beneath her. They were horrible dreams and hard enough to bear, so she couldn’t imagine how her father lived with the real thing. He would have that forever.

  After checking where to find Bill, Izzy took the elevator up a few floors and headed left down a long corridor that smelled of disinfectant. From the moment she stepped out of the lift that unmistakeable hospital smell had overwhelmed her. Approaching his room, she peered through the window. There he was, lying in bed with his legs and hands bandaged.

  Relief swept over her and she relaxed a little. At least she wouldn’t have to try to hide the horrified expression she knew her face would wear if she saw his burns again. He actually looked quite well, all things considered. He was talking to Jean and laughing about something. This cheered Izzy up no end. With renewed enthusiasm she knocked on the door and pushed it open.

  ‘Hiya, Dad. How are you?’ she said, entering the room.

  ‘Isabelle, darling. I’m fine. What a surprise. Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’

  Leaning over his bed, she planted a kiss on his cheek before turning around to give her mum one too, and a warm tight hug. ‘Hi, Mum. So how’s he really doing?’ she said, glancing back at her dad with a warm grin.

  ‘Oh, you know your father. He’s as tough as a Mallee bull and as stubborn as they come. He’s started harassing the staff, so he must be doing okay.’ Jean looked tenderly towards her husband of twenty-eight years and shrugged. She appeared relaxed, sitting on a simple beige chair and wearing a pink polo shirt and jeans, her legs crossed at the ankles.

  Dragging another uncomfortable-looking chair up to the bedside, Izzy placed the papers and magazines on the bed before sitting down.

  ‘Got you some papers, Dad. The last couple of Elders are there, and a few issues of Countryman for you to catch up on.’

  After glancing at the dressings on his burns, Izzy gazed at her dad’s tanned but slightly pale face. He blinked slowly, knowing she’d assessed him, and waited for her questions.

  ‘Does it still hurt, Dad?’ she asked. ‘Are you in much pain? I s’pose you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you? Will you be able to walk again and work the farm?’ Izzy shifted in her chair. Her backside was still a bit numb from sitting in the car for over three and a half hours.

  ‘Wow, so many questions. Well, love, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure. But the doc reckons I’m coming along well.’ His face lit up at the prospect of getting away from the four walls of the hospital and back to the fresh open spaces of his farm. ‘And I’ll be back on the farm before you know it. This is just a small setback. A few months, maybe more, and I’ll be getting back to normal. I just won’t look so flash in a pair of shorts. They said I could be home in five weeks, which is really good.’

  Jean smiled as she said, ‘They’ll be happy to see you go, Bill. I’m sure he’s been chatting up the nurses when I’m not here, haven’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Dad, that’s terrible. You’ll have them running in the opposite direction.’ Izzy screwed her face up at the thought, and a picture of an old Cecil ram flashed through her mind.

  ‘Have you seen much of Will, sweetheart?’ he asked Izzy. ‘He probably told you I asked him to take charge of the farm. He’s a good lad. Said he’d do it without any hesitation. I suppose it’s all going well, as I haven’t heard from him in a while.’

  Izzy found this baffling. Will had never mentioned anything about being in charge. He’d just been letting her run the farm by herself. Obviously, he hadn’t mentioned anything to Bill, otherwise her dad would have been jumping down her throat right now. Funny, she thought Will would have liked to throw his weight around and be in charge.

  Carefully, she considered her reply. ‘Yes … I’ve seen him around.’

  ‘Did he get the harvesting finished okay? He said you’d organised Mike’s header for him to use. I really appreciate that, sweeth
eart.’ Bill lifted his bandaged hand a few inches off the bed and half waved it. It was as close to patting her hand as he could get.

  ‘I’ve organised the insurance, and the blokes came out and checked the header. They said the fire started because of bearing failure, from what they can gather,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Ah, you’re a good girl. Can you tell Will that he’ll need to get onto the shearers soon? Might need to start in a week or two.’

  ‘Already onto it,’ replied Izzy, who was trying not to feel insulted. ‘Dad, I can do most of the farm stuff myself, and it would save you having to bother Will. I really don’t mind doing it. I can handle it. I’ve done farm work before.’ Izzy pleaded her case but to no avail. She saw the instant change in his mood.

  ‘You know my thoughts on this, Izzy. How many times do I have to spell it out? I’m not going to change my mind – in a hospital bed or out. I don’t mind you making a few phone calls, but you’re to have nothing to do with the farm work, okay? Just leave it in Will’s capable hands.’

  Izzy almost pouted as she sighed deeply. Silence descended on the hospital room like a fog. Izzy felt like she was balancing on a power-line as she struggled to control the rage inside. Her dad couldn’t even thank her or appreciate what she’d done so far. He didn’t know the half of it. Maybe she should tell him she was the one who’d finished the harvesting. He probably wouldn’t believe her, anyway. It’d just make his situation worse – and hers. She envied Will. He was to inherit his father’s farm, no questions asked, and Izzy had to fight like a stray cat to get even an inch. What was she to do? She knew what she wanted – to work the farm – but she didn’t know how to go about getting it. Did she confront her father? She couldn’t upset him in his current state, so maybe she’d just wait till he was better, then try it.

  Anxious to break the silence, Jean asked after the neighbours and Izzy filled her in on how they were all looking after her. But Izzy was distracted by her thoughts and still a little angry with her dad. The idea that he’d tried to control her life even more by keeping Claire’s pregnancy from her festered within her.

  Gearing herself up, she sat up straight and fiddled with the hem on her top, nervous about how to start. ‘Can I ask you guys a question, and I want the truth?’

  Both her parents went quiet, unsure of what was coming, and then they nodded and gave their assurance.

  Here goes, she thought. ‘D-did you know Claire got p-pregnant?’ she stammered.

  Both faces hardly changed. There were no sudden looks of shock or gasps of surprise. Right there and then she knew that this was not news to them.

  Standing up defiantly, she didn’t wait for the answer she knew was coming. She started pacing the tiny room. ‘How could you not tell me, even after all these years?’ she said, throwing her hands on her hips, her voice slightly elevated.

  It was Jean who spoke. ‘There seemed no point. We only knew ourselves for a few months, and then when she and the baby died, it didn’t seem worth worrying you with it.’

  ‘But, Mum!’ Izzy spluttered as she started getting worked up. ‘I am a part of this family too, aren’t I? I had a right to know. She was my sister.’ She continued to pace. ‘I feel so left out.’ Her voice was quieter now, broken.

  ‘We’re truly sorry, Izzy. We never meant to hurt you. We were just trying to save you from more pain. We thought losing your sister was bad enough. Can’t you see that?’ Jean said tenderly.

  ‘Is there anything else you’ve kept from me that I should know about?’ she replied, barely able to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice.

  ‘No,’ her parents chorused, then Jean continued. ‘I assure you, Izzy, we only had your best intentions at heart.’

  ‘I know. I can see that now, but it still doesn’t make me feel any better,’ she said, almost deflated as the sting began to leave. ‘How pregnant was she before she died?’

  Jean answered again. ‘She was sixteen weeks. We were trying to keep it very quiet. You were away at boarding school and we were going to wait until you came home at the end of term to tell you. Claire thought she felt the baby move the day before her accident.’ Jean paused, then laughed softly. ‘You should have seen your father when we told him. She told me first and when I got over the shock we told Bill together. Stunned is an understatement.’

  ‘Yeah, give a bloke a moment to gather his thoughts. When I’d calmed down, I was quite excited.’ The warmth in his voice was unmistakeable.

  ‘Except you wanted Will to marry Claire before the baby was born,’ Jean added. Izzy’s eyes widened and Jean continued. ‘But Claire didn’t want that. They weren’t prepared to marry, and in this day and age I guess it’s no big deal. How did you find out about the baby? From Will?’ her mum asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Yeah. We had a bit of a barney and he let it slip,’ answered Izzy.

  ‘I hope you weren’t too harsh on him, Isabelle,’ her dad cut in, all concerned. ‘He’s been through a lot. You’ve gotta understand how he felt. He lost his best mate and his unborn child in one afternoon.’ He spoke slowly, hoping she would understand. ‘He has lost as much as we have.’

  Izzy stopped mid-step, slapped her forehead, and groaned. ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘What?’ they replied in unison.

  Slowly she ran her hand down her face, as if trying to wipe the horrible memory from her mind. ‘I just remembered. I gave Will a mouthful at Ray’s clearing sale,’ she said, shaking her head again. ‘Oh, and they were some choice words too! Shit, now I feel terrible. Why didn’t he tell me then? And what must he have thought of my form?’

  ‘So, that’s what went down,’ said her father, now understanding. ‘Will wanted to tell you at the barbecue – he hated lying to you – but I made him promise not to. I’m sorry, love. He was right all along. We should have had this out after Claire’s funeral.’ Bill sighed heavily, realising the enormity of his mistake.

  ‘Yeah, well, I second that. Poor Claire,’ Izzy said, finally flopping back down in her chair.

  Bill cleared his throat and broke the silence. ‘You know, Will was looking forward to being a father – once he’d got over the initial shock, of course. But he really has a loving soul, a quality he gets from Sandy, and he was opening up to the idea of a little tacker running around. We talked about it often after Claire died. You know, he’s the closest thing to a son that I have, Izzy, and he’s come a bloody long way in the last few years. I want you to take it easy on him, okay?’

  Bill’s comments cut deep. So he wanted Izzy to see Will the way he saw him, yet why the hell couldn’t he see her for who she really was!

  ‘But you guys let me believe he’d used Claire, and I absolutely hated him for it. I blamed him for everything and now … well, it’s going to be bizarre. I’ve been just horrible to him ever since I got back.’

  ‘He knows it’s not your fault, Izzy. It will be all right. He doesn’t blame you.’ Jean stood up, walked over to Izzy and pulled her up into a tight hug. They stood there, embracing for a long time before Jean eventually whispered into her ear, ‘I miss Claire too.’

  12

  IZZY decided to head home the following day after another visit to the hospital. She’d stayed in a hotel room overnight – she didn’t want to put out Aunty Sarah, given her trip had been at such short notice. She was glad to have some time to herself – the peace and quiet was just what she’d needed after the revelations of the last few days.

  She got up early, hoping to fit in some shopping after seeing her dad. She needed some more work shorts and another dose of worm treatment for Tom, as well as a big bag of dog treats. When that was done, she did the mandatory KFC stop for lunch on her way out of Perth, then powered home to let Tom out of his yard.

  The monotonous driving gave her time to look back on her behaviour towards Will. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of how cruelly she’d treated him, especially realising it was all unwarranted. She’d used him to vent her anger over Clai
re’s death. He’d been an easy target, and now she sure had some explaining to do. As if things weren’t difficult enough between them. She resolved to put their kiss behind her – she couldn’t figure out what to make of it and it just complicated matters. Of course, she was attracted to Will – you’d have to be blind not to get all steamed up looking at him – but she still didn’t want to be with him. It was just her girlie hormones gone mad. But she liked the idea of being his friend.

  Arriving home late afternoon, she decided she’d better get it over and done with and head straight over to Will’s place to apologise. Tom barked excitedly, running around in circles as he eagerly awaited her appearance. Izzy stretched out her arms and gave the order: ‘Up, Tom.’ His large tan paws launched himself up to her chest and into her open arms. A quick cuddle, some running around with a ball and a doggie treat soon saw him contented. If only all relationships were so easy.

  Before jumping in her ute, Izzy grabbed the shirt that Will had lent her to wear the other night. It would provide a good excuse for her visit. It was only a two-minute drive along their track around the back paddocks and past the reserve. There was only one fence to open, which separated their farms, then around another paddock to their house. Tom was still excitedly attached to her hip and drooling happily next to her in the ute.

  Will’s place was an old farmhouse that had been on their land for years. It used to be where his grandparents lived before they built the new house closer to the mail road. The house sat in the corner of a paddock surrounded by scrub bush and tall old mallee trees. When they were kids, they’d used it as their playground and gone through the old clothes and toys left there. They’d pretend to cook and play house. That was when Will and Claire would let her come, mind you. She was ten when they finally let Izzy camp there with them for the night, safe in the hands of the thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds. They would try to scare her with stories by the fire in the old brick fireplace. Smiling, she remembered when they’d nearly burnt the place down. The fire had blown out of control after it caught on a nearby curtain. Luckily, they’d managed to pelt it out with the shirts off their backs. They made her promise not to tell anyone, but the evidence was a bit hard to hide – returning home smelling of smoke, plus the fact that their shirts were singed and sooty didn’t help. Especially as Will’s had nearly burnt completely. She could laugh about it now, but back then they’d got into a lot of trouble and had been banned from sleepovers at the old place.