by Helen Brown
A man with a face like a storm-ravaged cliff stepped forward to envelope her hand in his calloused paw. ‘I’m John from the hardware store,’ he said. ‘We’ll tidy this up for you in a jiff. And this is Lawrie the electrician.’
A man in his mid-thirties wearing what appeared to be a sock on his head gave her a friendly nod.
She glanced over their shoulders to the twenty or more men, women and children raking ashes and wheeling barrows of burnt wood out to the road. ‘You’re very kind, but I can’t afford . . .’
‘This is nothing to do with money,’ Juliet interrupted. Juliet had tucked her hair into a red beret, and Lisa hadn’t noticed her among the crowd. ‘We all know what you did for the Wrights,’ Juliet said. ‘We just want to say thanks.’
‘Yeah,’ added the man with the ginger moustache from the bush dance. ‘We’re here to help.’
Ted jogged down the drive, his feet flying at wild angles the way they always did. James was close on his heels, followed by Heidi and Stella. They wrapped her in their arms.
‘Happy birthday!’ Ted said, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Sssshhh!’ Lisa said, glancing down at her boots.
We’ve just about filled up a whole skip. Another’s on its way,’ Ted said. ‘These people are amazing!’
Lisa pulled up the edge of her collar and dabbed her tears.
‘Snot alert!’ Ted announced, handing her a crisp paper tissue from his pocket. ‘Seriously, Mom, this fire damage is a great opportunity.’
‘You sound like Oprah.’
‘The servants’ wing was creepy, anyway. We’ll pull down what’s left and tidy up that area. Maybe someday we’ll build a glamorous kitchen extension there. Meantime, James wants to put in a herb garden.’
Ted offered to design a new building where the stables had been. Based on the original structure, it would be fully insulated and built to the highest environmental standards. Solar panels would be placed out of sight on the pitched roof. Tucked in the space where the hayloft once was would be what Ted called the honeymoon suite—a spacious guest room with its own bathroom. New plumbing would be part of a grey-water system for the entire house. Used water from the kitchen and laundry would be treated and filtered, to be used on the garden. The ground floor of the new stables would provide generous storage for cars and equipment. It would be sealed to modern standards, a no-snake zone.
‘It sounds wonderful but—’
Juliet interrupted. ‘All the tradesmen here are offering their services for free. And we’re getting the materials at wholesale cost.’
Lisa scrabbled for words. These people’s hearts were wider than the desert.
‘Think of it as a birthday present,’ Juliet added.
‘Yeah, happy birthday!’ John chimed in.
‘Thanks. Just another day,’ Lisa said, blushing.
With Mojo leading the way, she walked down the driveway. At the roadside a group of people were working near a skip. Lisa’s smile grew broader as they waved and called happy birthday. Dorothy Thatcher from the Women’s Monthly was barely recognisable in walk shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a hat that looked like a UFO. She strode through the burnt forest with the chainsaw man, pointing out branches that needed chopping.
‘She’s a qualified botanist,’ Juliet explained.
‘You’ll be able to keep a lot of these trees,’ Dorothy called as Lisa approached. ‘The Australian bush is extremely resilient. It’s designed to catch fire every so often. You’ll see regrowth on this trunk in a matter of weeks.’
Aware that Dorothy was a friend of the Wrights, Lisa asked how they were getting on. Mr Wright was out of danger but still in a serious condition, Dorothy informed her. Mrs Wright was making steady progress. Though repairs to their cottage were already underway, it would be some time before they could move back in.
‘Could I visit them in hospital?’ Lisa asked.
Dorothy reacted as if she’d asked to wear the crown jewels for a day. ‘Oh they’re swamped with visitors,’ she said quickly before marching off in the direction of a large, blackened tree that was leaning perilously towards the ground. Producing an aerosol can, Dorothy sprayed a large white X on its trunk.
Lisa’s attention was diverted by a wheelchair near the front of the house. She made excuses and hurried towards it, Mojo leading the charge. To her disappointment, it wasn’t Scott hovering near Todd’s wheelchair, but Beverley and an older woman.
When Todd saw Mojo, his face beamed. The boy seemed to carry the sun around with him. ‘Is that your cat, Mrs Trumperton?’
‘Yes, that’s Mojo.’
The cat circled the wheelchair, sniffing with interest.
‘It’s all right,’ Beverley said. ‘Sharky’s in the car.’
Mojo sprang onto Todd’s lap and arched his back under the young man’s hand.
‘You should change his name to Leo,’ Todd said. ‘Shouldn’t she, Nan?’
‘Looks more like a pirate to me,’ the older woman remarked. ‘I’d call him Long John.’
‘Have you seen the cockatoo?’ Lisa asked.
‘She’s round the back doing laps of an apple tree,’ Todd replied.
‘You’re the talk of the town,’ Todd’s grandmother said to Lisa. ‘Usually takes three generations to get accepted around here.’
‘Yes, but my grandfather—’
‘She writes a good yarn too.’ Beverley shaded her eyes and shot Lisa a brisk smile.
‘I don’t think Dexter agrees,’ Lisa sighed.
‘Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s a nutty old wino.’
A yellow bulldozer rumbled down the drive. ‘Bloody good thing you had that fire,’ Scott called over the purr of the motor. ‘Saved a fortune clearing the paddock. I’ll go ahead and level it now. Still happy with that plan we drew up?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Happy birthday, by the way,’ he winked. ‘What’s your number?’
‘Nothing you should know about,’ she replied.
‘I was never any good at maths, anyway,’ he said, gunning the motor. ‘I’ll do an outline of the paths and the spa pool. We can change it as we go along.’
He rattled off over the paddock, chewing up ash and stones under the caterpillar tread.
‘You’re putting in a spa pool?’ Beverley asked.
Chapter 28
The volunteers finally packed up and went home. Scott parked the bulldozer in the paddock and left with Juliet in his ute. They looked happy together.
‘Count your blessings,’ Maxine said as she arranged a picnic dinner in the orchard.
It was the sort of platitude that usually set Lisa’s teeth on edge. But as rugs and cushions were spread under the apple tree, she knew Maxine was right. The generosity of her Castlemaine friends and family had saved her. As her family and Ted’s friends toasted her birthday, Lisa gulped back emotion. This birthday had been a considerable improvement on the one ending with a zero.
Gordon’s hip was playing up again, so he went back to the car and produced a fold-out chair. Perched on it, he gazed over everyone’s heads like a Shakespearian monarch bereft of a kingdom. Stella and Heidi shook out another rug. Lisa was pleased when they’d asked Zack to join them. She worried about the boy. He seemed to use his camera as a shield against the world.
As they basked in shafts of late afternoon sun, James brought out trays of chicken pie and salad. ‘Those women left enough food to last a year,’ he said, pouring wine into glasses. ‘I won’t have to cook another thing for you.’
‘Tell me that’s not true,’ Lisa said, thinking of James’ chocolate mousse.
Ted interrupted. ‘Look who’s here!’
The cockatoo emerged from under a gorse bush and lumbered towards them. She stopped at the edge of Lisa’s blanket and ogled her plate. Lisa tore off a corner of pastry and held out her hand.
The bird extended her neck, opened the great weapon of her beak and swept the crust from Lisa’s grasp.
‘Strange
pet,’ Maxine said. ‘What’s its name?’
‘She doesn’t have one.’
‘If she can’t fly we should call her Kiwi,’ Ted said. ‘In honour of our New Zealand friend.’
The bird cawed approval.
Ted raised his glass. ‘While we’re at it, I’d like to make an announcement.’
‘Watch out!’ Lisa pointed to a shadow slinking through the trees. It was Mojo doing a commando crawl. He hid behind the trunk of a pear tree and focused his telescopic vision on the parrot.
‘Those two are natural enemies,’ Heidi said under her breath.
Lisa was about to shoo Kiwi away when Mojo charged across the grass at the bird. Kiwi screeched, spread her wings and eyeballed her assailant. Mojo skidded to a halt in front of her.
The human audience watched open-mouthed as the two creatures circled each other, Mojo sliding close to the ground like a panther, Kiwi tall and haughty.
‘The cat doesn’t stand a chance,’ Heidi said, nudging her friends aside and quietly gathering up the blanket they’d been sitting on. ‘Have you seen the claws on that bird?’
Lisa’s odds were on Mojo. He was one tough cat. Either way, it was inevitable: if something wasn’t done about it, feathers or fur would fly.
Heidi crept towards the rivals and raised the rug. Her plan seemed to involve smothering the parrot and whisking her away to a safe haven—though exactly where that might be, Lisa had no idea. Besides which, a blanket of clawing, biting cockatoo could present its own problems.
Mojo and Kiwi continued their cautious dance around each other, their moves stately, almost formal. The atmosphere was charged. Any moment now . . .
Heidi prepared to dive.
The cockatoo suddenly stood still and faced the cat. Mojo froze and sank to his haunches. Kiwi lifted a terrifying claw and took a slow-motion step towards the cat.
Heidi wielded the blanket.
‘Not just yet!’ Lisa called.
Mojo shuffled on his belly towards the parrot. To everyone’s astonishment, Kiwi then dipped her head in a gracious arc and nestled it behind the cat’s ear. Mojo lifted his chin to let the parrot groom him gently with her beak. He raised a paw and rested it across her back.
Ted laughed. ‘They’re friends!’
The pair had probably known each other from their days in the wild. Both were loners with significant injuries. They must’ve helped each other out or, at the very least, enjoyed a companionship.
Lisa was relieved she wouldn’t have to act as policeman between her two pets. If anything, she was the newcomer in the relationship.
Heidi was now brandishing her phone instead of a blanket, taking photos of Mojo and Kiwi to show her vet-science friends.
As the light faded, the animals took turns chasing each other through the trees. The humans lay on their backs, watching midges perform aerial acrobatics.
When Maxine started making noises about going inside, Ted stood up and cleared his throat. He beckoned James to his side. ‘In case you haven’t all forgotten, I was about to make an announcement.’
Oh yes, thought Lisa. Ted always had an exaggerated sense of drama.
Glasses were thrust into hands. Sparkling wine from New Zealand’s South Island was poured.
‘As most of you are aware, James and I took a trip to New Zealand last week. While we were there we did some bungee jumping and saw some beautiful scenery . . .’
Lisa’s attention wandered. Ted must’ve had a few too many.
‘And we got married.’
Lisa sprang to her feet. ‘What?!’
‘James and I were legally married in a beautiful stone chapel on the shores of Lake Tekapo.’
Gordon turned purple and sputtered into his glass. Heidi and Stella performed an impromptu circle dance. Zack reached for his camera.
‘Good grief!’ Maxine cried. ‘Can people do that?’
‘It’s legal over there,’ James said.
‘Wonderful!’ Lisa quavered. Her sincerity was in doubt until she saw the faces of her son and . . . his husband. Who could argue with love? ‘Congratulations!’ she said, hugging them both. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘We are now. Anyway, that was a private ceremony. If it’s okay with you, Mom, we’d love to have a proper celebration here at the manor.’
‘With an exchange of gold rings,’ James added. ‘We were so excited we forgot to have them at our first wedding.’
‘Fine, but . . .’
A circle of faces looked up at her expectantly.
‘When were you thinking of having it?’ she asked.
‘We can tidy the place up by November,’ Ted said.
‘Next month?!’
‘Why wait? It’ll be great. We want everyone we love most to be here.’
Lisa’s inner Machiavelli kicked in. Though Portia might be able to wangle her way out of coming to Australia for Christmas, no way could she miss her brother’s wedding. The manor’s walls were already seeped with history. It would do no harm to add another generation’s layer of happiness before she had to pack up and put the place on the market.
‘Will there be bridesmaids?’ Maxine asked.
‘Flotillas of them,’ James replied.
‘Do you think Aunt Caroline will accept her invitation?’ Ted said.
Laughter echoed across the orchard. They drained their glasses and wandered back to the house. A great orange moon rose over the apple tree.
Chapter 29
Green blades had sliced miraculously through the charred earth. Kiwi was becoming bolder. The parrot waited outside the back door most mornings, and with Mojo’s encouragement, she was soon hopping over the doorstep and waddling about the kitchen. It was a friendship of equals. Meanwhile, Mojo’s tummy was getting rounder by the day.
Lisa loved watching the unlikely allies preen and take turns chasing each other. There was only one source of tension. The moment Mojo was out of sight, or diverted by a fly in the window, Kiwi made a beeline for his food bowl. Kiwi devoured anything from Kitty Treats to fresh chicken slices. The self-appointed artful dodger soon widened her territory to pinching bananas from the fruit bowl. One morning Lisa caught the parrot on the pantry floor, rustling through a toppled packet of muesli. The bird looked up at her and squawked defiantly. Bags of sunflower seeds became part of the weekly shop.
Lisa began to feel guilty sending the cockatoo outside at night. Kiwi had proved herself a survivor, but her damaged wings made her vulnerable. The first night Kiwi was allowed to stay inside, she seemed grateful. Perched on the back of her favourite kitchen chair, she tucked her head in her wing and closed her eyes. Lisa slid sheets of newspapers on the floor underneath the chair legs, closed the door and followed Mojo upstairs.
The Grey Army abandoned painting the upstairs study and focused their energies on tidying up what was left of the stables and servants’ wing. Lisa spent her days at the kitchen table with Mojo on her lap and Kiwi perched on the back of a chair, wading through Three Sisters: Emily, tweaking and reworking. She finally sent it off to Vanessa just hours before the deadline. Now she was free to concentrate on the upcoming celebration and researching gay weddings became her new hobby.
Lisa was puzzled when the boys sent most of their wedding invitations by Facebook, but James assured her it was logical, considering the timeframe. Still, the boys hadn’t forgotten the computer illiterate. James bought a small stack of invitation cards that he filled in using a calligraphy pen before posting them to the elderly and ‘just plain weird’ who refused to own phones or computers. To everyone’s amazement, Aunt Caroline sent a note of acceptance by return.
Ted insisted on inviting the Grey Army, along with all the locals who’d helped with the fire cleanup—and ‘that gardening dude’.
Lisa was overjoyed that Portia was among the first to accept. Lisa booked a flight for her to arrive a few days before the wedding and stay on for two weeks. Not that she was holding out much hope—Portia would probably invent an audition or a
vegan festival to rush back early for.
Then Jake and Cow Belle had the gall to announce they were arriving a week early and would be staying at the manor. Lisa was ready to book them into a motel but Ted begged her to let them stay. He seemed to have romantic notions of his parents sleeping under the same roof on the eve of his wedding.
In the end, acceptances numbered close to 150, including James’s New Zealand relatives.
Scott showed up to work on the landscaping most days. His snakebite bandage had long ago been replaced with a modest bandaid. No doubt Juliet had seen to that. Lisa limited their discussions to garden planning. Truckloads of boulders, some the size of small caravans, arrived and were unloaded by crane. Scott oversaw the placement of each one, and they formed an imposing backdrop in harmony with the valley and hills. Towards the end of each day, the stones took on a reddish glow, and Lisa couldn’t resist going outside to stroke them. Smooth and sandy, they seemed to hum with ancient energy.
Outlines of paths meandered in studied nonchalance towards the stream and back. The shapes and curves Scott had carved with the bulldozer were the work of an artist. The only eyesore was the ridiculous hole he’d made for the spa pool, which was at least three metres deep and the size of a mass grave. Scott showed Lisa a plan he’d drawn up for the garden and assured her it would look just fine once it was lined with concrete, filled with water and nestled under the pergola.
She hated to think how much it was all costing. With luck, her royalties from Three Sisters: Emily would cover it and she’d get the money back when the house was sold.
With the wedding only a couple of weeks away, Lisa encouraged Scott to charge ahead with planting. Most of the seedlings were small, but they already provided softness and colour. The front paddock was rapidly being transformed into a breathtaking landscape.
The boys visited more frequently as the wedding drew closer. A chef friend of James was organising catering with an impressive Australian theme. First course would be sustainable seafood such as whiting and blue mussels, followed by an amuse-bouche of walnut puree topped with shavings of pine mushrooms and a cabbage flower. Main course was to be steak fillet sprinkled with native pepper berries (there would also be a vegetarian option). For dessert, wattle seed and honey custard would be surrounded by desert limes and emu apples. The menu sounded so outlandish, Lisa would’ve tried to veto it, if the creator hadn’t been voted best chef in Australia.
