The Last Mile Home

by Di Morrissey

Abby shook her head. ‘I’m supposed to keep a clear head to drive home, remember.’

  ‘Thanks for helping out,’ said Barney, slipping onto the end of the bench next to Abby.

  ‘I was glad of the work. Now I have to find a proper job.’

  Barney nodded and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to finding a proper job.’

  She acknowledged him with a quick smile and sip of lemonade, stealing a glance at him over the top of her glass.

  Barney picked up the conversation across the table, but he was thinking of the girl beside him. Abby intrigued him and he didn’t understand why. They had only talked briefly and while she was certainly attractive, it was a subtle kind of prettiness which crept up on you. He’d found he couldn’t help watching her, the way she moved with easy grace. Her voice was soft and musical and it made him want to listen to her tell him all about herself. She was different from other girls he’d known. And it wasn’t because of their class. Abby exuded a poise and gentle confidence, despite her more humble background.

  He wished he could get to know her better. Obviously she had to help out financially, being the eldest of a big family. It was an imperative that few of his female friends would understand since they came from rural families enjoying boom times; for them, work was an optional way of filling in time until Mr Right turned up. It wasn’t considered necessary for girls to have a fancy education. They had to be a good hostess, wife and mother. Still, he had to admit more and more of them were quitting the bush and picking up jobs in the labour-starved cities. Barney turned his attention back to Abby.

  ‘You thinking of heading off to the big smoke too? Seems to be the thing to do these days.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t like that. I hate cities, what I’ve seen of them. I guess I’m a country girl and always will be. Anyway, it would be odd being away from the family.’

  ‘I prefer the country too. Have you been to the city often?’ he asked.

  ‘I had to go down to Sydney two years ago for an operation on my eye. Nothing serious, but it couldn’t be done in the country. We were out near Gilgandra at the time. After I got out of hospital, Mum and I looked around Farmers, Mark Foys and Horderns; didn’t buy anything, but it was fun to window-shop.’

  Barney looked at her sparkling eyes and wondered what had been wrong. She certainly had stunning eyes. He realised that there wouldn’t have been much spare money for a shopping spree in Sydney, unlike some of the girls he’d met who were always going on about ‘the latest’ from Sydney.

  ‘There’s certainly a lot more to look at in the shops now compared to when I lived in Sydney. Took a while to get over the war but the country is on a roll now, that’s for sure. So tell me where else you’ve lived. You’ve probably seen more of the country than I have.’

  They chatted comfortably and Abby relaxed, feeling safe in the large group and realising he probably preferred to talk to someone closer to his own age. She’d noticed there was restraint when the men spoke to Barney compared to when they talked amongst themselves. Unlike the others, she didn’t regard him as a ‘boss’ as this job had been a one-off for her and probably for her father too.

  Barney finally glanced at his watch. ‘Struth, I’d better hand out the money or I’11 have a riot on my hands.’

  ‘I doubt it. Everyone seems to be having a good time,’ said Abby as Mrs Anderson came over.

  ‘I’m going to bring the cakes and a sweet down now, okay, Barney?’

  He nodded and swung his leg over the bench and stood. ‘Righto.’

  ‘Do you want a hand, Mrs Anderson?’

  ‘Yes, Abby, that would be nice. Come on.’

  As they headed back to the homestead, Barney picked up his jacket and took out envelopes marked with each man’s name and began handing them round.

  It was only a minute’s drive to the house and as the high roof and tall chimneys came into view behind the beautifully landscaped gardens, Abby gulped. ‘Oh my, how lovely.’

  Mrs Anderson glanced at her, then back to the imposing facade. ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? When you live in a place you sort of stop seeing it. Come on round the back, we’ll go past her rose garden.’

  Inside the kitchen, Abby looked around at the large work area, the benches, the extra table, the high cupboards and the pantry that was as big as a small room. ‘My mum would love a kitchen like this. She likes to cook and never has enough room.’

  ‘Is she a good cook?’

  ‘We think so. She likes baking and making jams and pickles. She wins prizes for her cakes.’

  ‘And do you cook?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not a baker, I’m afraid. Mum says I’m too heavy-handed. Though I always get the job of beating the eggs,’ said Abby.

  ‘Well, I’m a pretty average cake maker. But the men always like my fruitcakes. Wait a sec while I go get the cream from the other refrigerator.’

  ‘I’m sure your cakes are delicious,’ called Abby, wondering at a kitchen that had two fridges. At their house there wasn’t even an ice chest. As she stood gazing at the array of pots and pans, there was a flash of white at her feet, followed quickly by another. She squealed and jumped, then gazed at the small creatures in astonishment. They, in turn, began a frenzied yapping, dancing about on their short legs and pointy feet.

  Abby burst out laughing. ‘Golly, what sort of mug dogs are you? Who squashed your face?’

  She bent down and peered at their pug noses and black raisin eyes. Giggling, she held out a hand and Tucker boldly inched forward in case this was an offer of food. Abby grabbed him and scooped him up before he had a chance to run away. She stood up and held the surprised dog up to her face so they could eyeball each other. Diet continued to yelp around her ankles.

  ‘What do you think you are you doing?’

  Abby spun around in shock at the icy voice. Enid Holten stood at the door, a look of horror on her face.

  ‘Who are you? Give me my dog at once.’ She advanced on the stunned Abby, who meekly handed over Tucker. Enid bent down and scooped up Diet and swiftly inspected them, then glared at Abby. ‘No one touches my dogs. They don’t go to strangers,’ she said accusingly.

  For a minute Abby thought this woman must have thought she was going to throw the two mutts into the cooking pot. ‘I’m sorry, they just came in. I’ve never seen dogs like these before.’

  ‘These are pedigree dogs. They are sensitive and special creatures who are easily upset.’

  Abby glanced down at the dogs under each arm, glaring back at her with a similar expression to that of their mistress. Abby had the feeling the two of them were about to poke their tongues out at her.

  Thankfully Mrs Anderson came hurrying in with a bowl of whipped cream. ‘Oh, Mrs Holten. This is Abigail McBride. She’s been working at the shed.’

  ‘Then what is she doing here?’

  ‘I came to help Mrs Anderson take down the dessert for the party,’ said Abby soothingly. So this was Barney’s mother.

  Enid swung around and glared at Mrs Anderson. ‘Dessert for the party? I thought the cook was doing everything.’

  Mrs Anderson thrust the bowl of cream into Abby’s hands and picked up the two cakes. ‘Barney asked me to make a cake or two, nothing special. Come along, Abby, don’t want to keep them waiting.’ She shot Abby a look and Abby headed swiftly for the door.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Holten.’

  ‘Bring back the leftover cake, Mrs Anderson,’ called Enid.

  ‘So she can stuff it into those spoiled little beasts,’ muttered Mrs Anderson.

  Abby couldn’t hold back her giggles. ‘Goodness. When they ran into the kitchen I thought they were some sort of monster rats!”

  ‘They’re the bane of my life, I tell you. She even has me cook special things for them. I told Jim I had this dream once where they were stuffed with food till they were as fat as a Christmas goose and I roasted the pair of them and took them to the table on a silver salver, lifted the cover and said, “Dinner is served, madam”. He though
t that was a dreadful thing to dream.’

  Abby burst out laughing. ‘I didn’t think Barney’s mother would be like that. For a minute I was a bit scared of her.’

  ‘She isn’t normally that feisty. She mostly drifts around in a dream world. Well, come on, let’s serve up the cake.’

  Back at the barbecue Bob McBride smiled at Abby and slipped an envelope across the table to her. ‘Here’s your pay, luv.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She slipped the envelope into the pocket of her skirt and ate a piece of cake. Some of the men were moving around, gathering up their gear ready to cut out. They came up to shake hands and said goodbye to Abby, saying she’d been a real help and a breath of fresh air around the shed.

  ‘It was good having a girl around the place, made us watch our p’s and q’s,’ said the boss of the team with a grin.

  While her father was saying goodbye and politely refusing invitations to meet the others in town, Abby picked up a pile of dishes and carried them in to the cook. ‘It was great. All your meals were, Tommo. I don’t know how you keep up with it all.’

  ‘This job’s an art, Abby. Specially when you’re out on the track and got a limited plant so you have to cook everything in a camp oven and in the coals. I’ll let you in on a secret, d’ya know what my nickname used t’be?’

  Abby shook her head.

  ‘One Pot Tommo. Cause everything from a cake to a roast came outta one pot!’

  ‘Like the magic pudding!’ exclaimed Abby and they both laughed. She went back to the deserted table and opened her pay packet. There was a neatly folded wad of pound notes with the hours worked and the amount tabulated in pencil on a piece of paper. Pinned to it was a new five pound note with another note. Thanks for helping us when we needed it. Buy yourself something pretty next time you’re window shopping. Cheers, Barney Holten.

  Abby gasped in surprise. He must have slipped it in after talking to her about shopping in Sydney. She blushed and put her pay in her pocket; then, curling her fingers around the five pounds, hurried outside.

  She waited until she saw Barney shake hands with two men who were about to drive off. He saw her standing in the twilight and came over to her. ‘You and your dad setting off now too?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, it’s been a nice dinner. And thank you, but I can’t take this.’ She thrust the blue note at him and turned away.

  Barney caught her wrist and stuffed the money back in her hand. ‘Look, I don’t want to embarrass you. You did more than your share. Call it a bonus. Really, I won’t take no for an answer.’

  Abby didn’t want to feel under any obligation to Barney Holten. ‘I don’t feel right about it. I didn’t do anything more than anyone else.’ She was looking down, feeling uncomfortable, and was relieved when she heard her father approaching.

  ‘We’re all set to go, Ab. Our stuff is in the ute.’

  ‘Hop in, Dad.’ She turned away, not looking at Barney. ‘Goodbye. Thanks again.’

  Barney stopped Bob McBride. ‘You have a stubborn girl there, Mr McBride. I gave her a bonus and she won’t take it. Here, put this away for her.’ He handed the five pound note to him.

  Bob McBride glanced at the money and at Abby. ‘You got your right pay, luv?’

  ‘Yes, Dad. I didn’t do anything extra. Really.’

  ‘Then if you don’t feel you’ve earned it, don’t keep it.’ He handed the money back to Barney. ‘We appreciate the gesture. Thanks.’

  Barney nodded, suddenly aware he had made Abby feel beholden or had somehow demeaned her, and he regretted it. ‘I just wanted to say thanks. I appreciated her pitching in at short notice,’ he said softly.

  ‘A handshake’s all the thanks that’s needed,’ replied Bob McBride. He shook Barney’s hand. ‘Be seeing you round no doubt.’ He strode over to the ute.

  Abby glanced up apologetically at Barney. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass him. She held out her hand and he shook it looking again into her wide eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Abby smiled at him and gently drew her hand from his. ‘Thank you. See you again.’ She hurried after her father and didn’t hear Barney’s soft response.

  ‘I hope so.’

  Abby’s father nodded off to sleep as she drove home. She wished Barney Holten hadn’t offered her that extra money — though it would have been nice to give it to her mother — because it had spoiled the ease she’d felt when talking to him. Suddenly, instead of being two young people simply chatting together, he had reinforced his position as the wealthy one, able to dispense favours. For a moment she was angry with him, thinking he was trying to buy his way into her good graces. Then she laughed at herself. Who do you think you are, Abigail McBride? As if Barney Holten would even want to go to that much trouble. He probably felt he only had to snap his fingers and she’d come running. Well, he was wrong on that score. Sensibly she realised he had probably felt a bit sorry for her and figured with such a large family and her looking for work, extra money would be welcome. Now she was angry with herself. She should have kept the money. ‘Oh well,’ she sighed aloud as she turned towards the house.

  The dog leapt to his feet, rattling his chain against the little tin humpy, but he didn’t bark as he recognised the ute.

  ‘Wake up, Dad, we’re here.’

  Bob McBride stretched, then peered into the darkness. ‘What’s that, Abby? That light over there?’

  ‘Where, Dad ?’

  ‘By the tank. I could swear I saw a light.’

  ‘You’re seeing min min lights, Dad.’ She turned off the ignition. Lights glowed from inside the house and all was silent in the yard. Then Abby saw it too. A quick flash of light. They both got quietly out and walked towards the plump silhouette of the water tank. Rounding the corner, they stopped. Two small figures in white were on their hands and knees shining a torch into the chicken coop.

  ‘What are you up to?’ asked Bob McBride loudly.

  ‘Eek!’

  ‘Oo-er!’

  The twins jumped to their feet, stumbling over their nighties, Colleen hiding the torch behind her back. ‘You scared us,’ she said.

  ‘You gave us a bit of a start too,’ said Abby. ‘What are you doing with the chooks?’

  ‘We just wanted to make sure they were there,’ said Shirley. ‘They got out when we were feeding them.’

  ‘Kev said if we left the coop open they’d go in.’

  ‘And are they in?’ grinned their father.

  The girls broke into large smiles. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, let’s get you girls back inside. Does Mum know you’re out here?’

  ‘No, we climbed out the window,’ said Shirley, and Colleen punched her in the ribs for giving away their secret.

  ‘Okey-dbkey. Abby, you take one, I’ll get the other and we’ll smuggle ’em back inside.’ Bob McBride bent down and Colleen leapt onto his back as Shirley hoisted herself onto Abby. Abby grasped Shirley under the knees, lifted her up higher on her back, and set off. Their father galloped ahead with Colleen clinging on as he piggybacked her to the bedroom window, trailed by Abby with Shirley. Panting, they tipped the giggling girls through the window onto the bed beneath.

  Gwen looked up from her mending as Abby and her father strolled in, arms linked, smiling broadly. ‘You two look like you’ve had a good time.’

  ‘We have.’ Bob reached into his shirt and dropped his unopened pay packet into her lap. ‘There you go, luv.’ He kissed the top of her head. Gwen smiled up at him. ‘Anyone for a cup of tea?’

  ‘I will, Mum. I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Abby.

  ‘Think I’ll go get cleaned up,’ said Bob. He yawned and headed for the bathroom.

  ‘He’ll be out like a light in five minutes flat, Abby,’ said Gwen, sticking the needle back in the reel of thread. ‘Come and sit down and tell me all about it.’

  Abby dropped onto the settee next to her mother, picked up a loose cushion and hugged it to herself, and started to laugh. ‘I met Mrs Holten . .
. and friends . . .’

  As Abby and her mother talked softly, their light laughter occasionally drifting through the peaceful cottage, the twins sleepily whispered to each other, glad Tom Turkey and the bantams were in bed. Kevin and Brian breathed slowly and deeply, both fast asleep. Bob McBride kicked off his boots, pulled off his leather belt and fell back on the bed, and promptly went to sleep.

  At Amba, Barney Holten sat in a chair on the darkened verandah. His mother was in the sitting room listening to a play on the radio, her two dogs curled in her lap. His father was in his study with the door shut. Reading, doing the books, or looking at his stamp collection, Barney assumed. On impulse, he stood up, went to the study door and tapped lightly. Hearing his father’s voice say, ‘Yes?’, he opened the door.

  His father sat at his desk, peering through a magnifying glass at a page of stamps. ‘Yes, Barney?’

  ‘Er, nothing. I just thought I’d see what you were doing. The barbecue went well. You should have come down.’

  ‘Like I said, it was your affair. I hope everything is cleaned up and no damage was done.’ He continued to stare at Barney in the doorway. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I want to sort through a few more of these.’ He looked back down at the neat rows and carefully adjusted the alignment of one of the stamps. Picking up the glass, he studied them intently and didn’t notice the door close quietly behind Barney.

  THE TWINS CAME RUNNING IN TO BOB AND GWEN’S bedroom and jumped on the bed.

  ‘Rain’s gone,’ Colleen announced brightly.

  ‘Are we going out today?’ asked Shirley.

  ‘They said at school everyone had to go,’ elaborated Colleen.

  ‘Go where, my little sausage?’ asked Bob, ruffling Colleen’s hair as she bounced on his chest. ‘Ouch! I don’t like schoolteachers bossing me around.’

  Gwen wrapped her arms around Shirley, who was snuggling under the bedclothes between her parents. ‘Now, Bob, don’t be disrespectful about their teacher.’

  ‘It’ll be fun, Dad. Can’t we please go, Mum?’ asked Shirley.

  ‘Go where?’ demanded Bob, pretending to shake Colleen, who squealed and laughed.