White Gum Creek

by Nicole Hurley-Moore

  They must have enjoyed messing with him. They never took it too far—well, at least, they never harmed the livestock or gutted the caravan—but every couple of months they decided that at least one of his sheds needed redecorating.

  Nick wasn’t that surprised. He lived a near hermit-like existence, and Winters Hill was just far enough from White Gum Creek to appear isolated but still near enough to reach on a bike. There had been a lot of talk over the years about him in town and what had happened. Some of it was true, some embellished, and some was a heap of shit. He guessed that it was only natural that some people would think that his place was inhabited by some deranged monster, but why the hell did they have to go and write all over everything?

  Nick glanced down at his bandaged hand. At least he didn’t need two hands to paint the wall. He did, however, need to run into town and grab some paint. He glanced at the sky. It looked like the rain had set in. Maybe he should just leave it; if he didn’t paint over the words perhaps the culprits would think he didn’t care and lose interest?

  He headed back to his caravan. As the rain grew heavier, little rivulets ran down his dark hair, and Nick shivered as they trickled down the collar of his plaid shirt. He glanced over his shoulder at the accusing words. The kicker was that some of them might be true.

  Chapter 2

  Nick jumped as his phone rang in his pocket.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, Nick. It’s Matt.’

  Whatever tension had been building in his gut began to dissipate. Most might see him as a freaky recluse, but at least he had one friend—Matt Harvey.

  ‘Listen, I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I just wondered how you were going?’

  ‘Hey, are you checking up on me? You know I’m not a kid!’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Never said you were. But if you leave me hanging like that again, you’re grounded. Anyway, I’d thought I’d better remind you that poker night is this Saturday.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure…’

  Matt cut him off.

  ‘You’re coming and that’s final. You’ve blown us off twice already, and just to make sure you don’t find some pathetic excuse to back out again I’m picking you up at seven.’

  Nick was silent. Since he’d met Matt he had started to venture out more. Before then he’d cut himself off from the world. But going over to Matt’s place to watch a movie or have dinner was different to spending an evening with a bunch of strangers. Okay, he knew Davey Black well because he owned the general store, and maybe even Dean because he ran the stock feed shop in town. But that was only on a nodding ‘Hello’ basis. It wasn’t as if he had a close friendship with either of them. Nick winced. He didn’t have a close friendship with anyone.

  ‘Come on, Nick, it’s only a poker night,’ Matt said. ‘It’s not a life-or-death decision. It’ll be fun and I reckon you’ve forgotten what that is.’

  Nick took a breath and steeled himself. Matt was right; it was only a night out. And when had he become so afraid? The thought rattled him.

  ‘Alright, alright. I’ll see you then.’

  ‘Good, we’ll all have a great time. So, what have you been up to?’

  ‘Contemplating painting the hayshed.’

  ‘Let me guess—another unwanted masterpiece.’

  ‘You could say that…’

  ‘You’ve got to get the police involved, Nick. You can’t let this go on.’

  ‘I guess…But they aren’t exactly hurting anyone.’

  ‘That’s bullshit. They’re hurting you. They’re taking up your time and destroying your property.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll think about reporting it—but it’s not as if I’ve got security cameras dotted over this place, so I’m not sure what the police can do.’

  ‘You won’t know if you don’t speak to them,’ Matt said. ‘Besides, you know Jake Wilkins, don’t you? Maybe you could have a word with him?’

  ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you are a nag?’

  Matt laughed. ‘Well, everyone has to have at least one superpower. Maybe I should buy a cape.’

  ‘You’re an idiot.’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ Matt said. ‘See you on Saturday—at seven, remember.’

  ‘Alright.’

  ‘Good, and no pulling out at the last minute because I know where you live,’ Matt said before the phone went dead.

  ***

  Tash had been run off her feet all morning. For some reason, most of the town had felt the need to visit the bakery. Not that she was complaining, but the mid-morning flow seemed to have doubled and merged with the lunchtime rush. Both she and her shop assistant, young Meg Turner, had been flat out since about ten. She glanced up at the sound of the bell on the front door just in time to see Nick Langtree walk in.

  For an instant as he approached the counter, there was a warm, tingly flare erupting somewhere in her core. She told her friends—she even told herself—that all she wanted to do was reach out and help this guy. She didn’t exactly know how she was going to go about it but he needed to be around people again. Maybe she should ask Alex, maybe he could come up with something…He’d been through hell and deserved a friendly smile and the encouragement to re-join the human race. But helping someone wasn’t usually accompanied by this damn tingle.

  ‘Hey, Nick, it’s good to see you. Won’t be a minute,’ Tash said as she made up her current customer’s order.

  He didn’t say anything but gave her a hint of a smile and a nod.

  ‘There you go, Mrs Watson. That’ll be $8.50. Thanks,’ she added as the old lady handed over the cash.

  ‘Thanks, dear. See you later.’

  ‘Bye,’ Tash said with a smile before she gathered herself and turned to Nick.

  ‘How are you, Tash?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m good, thanks. It’s been crazy here today. How about you?’

  ‘Fine. Just working.’

  He paused, and she thought he might carry on their pathetic attempt at a conversation, but all she was rewarded with was, ‘Can I have a loaf of brown bread?’

  ‘Sure.’

  She grabbed a paper bag and turned to her half-empty bread rack. She reached for a loaf and popped an olive and cheese swirl roll in for good measure. When Nick handed over the money, she tried really hard not to notice the old burn marks on his hands. As she was ringing up the order on the till, she noticed him peek into the bag.

  ‘Thanks, Tash, but you didn’t have to…’

  ‘I know, I just thought you might like something for lunch. No big deal.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Again, there was a pause before Nick gave her another brief nod.

  ‘Well then—bye,’ he said awkwardly before walking past the customers and towards the door.

  ‘Bye.’

  Tash felt a prickle up her neck like someone was watching her. She turned around and saw her brother leaning against the office doorway off to the side. Alex’s dark-brown eyes were the same as hers. He gave her “the look” before shaking his head.

  ‘Shut up. And if you’re finished with the deliveries, would you like to give us a hand?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ Alex said as he put down a box and stood behind the counter.

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  ***

  By half past two the bakery was empty and most of the bread gone.

  ‘Well, I’m glad that’s over.’ Tash sighed as she leaned against the counter. ‘Thanks for helping out.’

  Alex undid his apron.

  ‘Not a problem. Listen, if you’re alright, I’m going to take off.’

  ‘Of course. But before you go, we got another couple of new orders—one from that new deli in Violet Falls, Gourmand, and The Deer and Hare Inn in Maldon.’

  He grinned back at her.

  ‘That’s great Tash. Our little bakery is really taking off, isn’t it? And it’s all down to you, big sister.’

  ‘That’s not true. We couldn’t have got
this far without your skills in the kitchen. Come on, Alex, your bread is bloody fantastic.’

  ‘Thanks, but if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have all these new customers. So learn to take the compliment, sis.’

  ‘I guess—thanks,’ Tash said as she gave him a hug.

  ‘You know, I’ve been thinking about what Gran said. About us having “the sight”.’ She must have been right: you saw how well we’d do and pulled the idea into the world and made it reality.’

  Tash shook her head.

  ‘That’s completely crazy. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I know, but she liked to believe in family superstitions. Maybe it was just to give her a sense of belonging, or something like that.’

  ‘How would making up fairytales do that?’

  Alex shrugged.

  ‘Maybe because she didn’t have any family left. Just us and Mum? Anyway, all this reminds me of the old girl and that’s not a bad thing,’ he said as he fiddled with some of the brown paper bags on the counter.

  It struck Tash that this was the first time in ages that Alex was speaking about his feelings. She got it: she missed Gran, too. Sometimes when she worked in the bakery Tash would almost expect her grandmother to walk through the door, put on her apron that hung on the back of the kitchen door, and start baking. Tash looked past Alex into the kitchen. Gran’s apron still hung there as neither of them could bring themselves to take it down.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘if you want to continue the story about our family having “the sight”, that’s fine. Just don’t drag me into it.’

  ‘Aw, Tashie, where’s the fun in that? I’m going to tell my kids, when I eventually have them. And what sort of uncle would I be if I neglected to share our family history with yours?’

  Tash put her hands on her hips and glared back at her brother.

  ‘That is never going to happen. Besides, it may have escaped your notice, but neither of us are close to having children.’

  ‘Ah, give it time.’ Alex was silent for a second before he asked, with a hint of smile, ‘So, when are you going to do something about Nick Langtree?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Come on, Tash, it’s me you’re talking to. You like Nick, it’s so obvious!’

  ‘Oh shut up, you know I just feel sorry for him, that’s all. I mean, the only time he interacts with anyone is on his weekly visit to town.’

  ‘If you say so. Although you have to admit that lots of people only come into town once a week.’

  ‘Lots? Are you joking?’

  ‘Alright, a few.’

  ‘But are they also sitting at Winters Hill all by themselves, living with ghosts and brooding over the past? All I’m saying is that it can’t be healthy. He needs to be around other people.’

  Alex tilted his head to one side.

  ‘Since when did you become a shrink?’

  ‘Since I discovered I had a Lothario for a brother.’

  ‘Hey, that’s not fair. We weren’t even talking about me. Anyway, I’m not some evil seducer…Well, at least I’m not evil. I just haven’t found the right girl, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, you’d better hurry up because you’re exhausting your options. You’ve got half the women in the district trying to get your attention and the other half trying to get you back! And don’t look at me that way.’ Tash laughed. ‘I’ve met the likes of you before—charmers that will steal a girl’s heart, if they let them.’

  ‘Lies!’ Alex said with a grin. ‘Terrible, terrible lies and coming from my own dear sister. Nice way to change the subject, though. Well done.’ Alex gave her a wink. ‘You always manage to divert the topic away from yourself. You’re like the Yoda of diversion.’

  ‘It was pretty good, wasn’t it? Now, get out of here and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ***

  Nick held the phone to his ear as he placed his dinner on the table.

  ‘Hi Reg, I was just double-checking that we’re still good for the shearing at Winters Hill?’ Nick asked.

  He hoped that they were still on. Reg and his shearing team were the best. Which was why the Dupreys of Bluestone Ridge had hired them for years.

  ‘Yeah, no worries, Nick. We’ll be heading over to Bluestone Ridge on Monday. Bec’s hired the crew to shear her mob. I figured we’ll swing by your place after that.’

  ‘That’s great—I really appreciate you squeezing me into your schedule. I know that September can be a really busy time for you.’

  ‘Not a problem. Not sure how long it’ll take at Bec’s place, but I’ll give you a ring towards the end of next week. I can’t see us finishing up before then. She’s got a lot of sheep.’

  ‘That’s the kind of problem I dream of,’ Nick said with a laugh. ‘Maybe one day.’

  Reg chuckled.

  ‘You and me both, mate. Got to hand it to her, Bec does a damn good job of running that place. How many head have you got there?’

  ‘About a hundred and fifty.’

  ‘We’ll zip through them.’

  ‘Great. Looking forward to it.’

  ‘You sound good, Nick—almost chipper. Are things improving?’

  ‘Yeah, I think things are looking up,’ Nick said as he sat down and Tabitha jumped on to his lap.

  ‘Glad to hear it. Listen, I’ve got to shoot off. I’ll see you sometime next week.’

  ‘Okay…and thanks again.’

  Tabitha continued to stare at Nick as he placed his phone on the table.

  ‘This is my dinner, yours is over there,’ he said, pointing to the bowl in the kitchenette.

  She blinked once but didn’t move.

  ‘You’re not making this easy,’ Nick muttered as he picked up his knife and fork. Tabitha placed a paw on his arm, just to remind him who was boss.

  ‘Okay, fine,’ Nick grumbled as he sliced off a piece of steak and gave it to her. ‘You know it’s exactly the same stuff as in your bowl.’

  Tabitha took the steak and jumped to the floor.

  Was she spoilt? Yeah, probably, but that was just the way it had been ever since she turned up at his door. A huge storm had blown up about a week out from the first anniversary of Sophie’s death. Nick had to admit he’d been in a dark place and that night he had been pondering if it was even worth carrying on. As the thunder rolled overhead, he thought he heard a squeaking coming from outside. At first he assumed a piece of iron had come off the nearby shed and went back to staring at his knife block in the kitchenette. But the noise persisted, and it sounded as if it had moved to just outside the caravan door. Nick yanked open the door and saw a half-drowned kitten huddling by the jamb. Before Nick could move, the kitten bounded over to him and climbed up his jeans. It meowed as its tiny claws scratched their way up his thigh. Nick scooped it up and it bellowed at him. For something that tiny, it sure had a loud meow. He had no idea where she came from. The next day he poked around the sheds to see if there was a mother cat hiding in one of the dark corners, but he never found one. They’d been together ever since, and Nick often thought that Tabitha was one of the reasons he’d made it to today.

  He cut off another bit of steak and handed it to her. Hell, she deserved it.

  ‘There you go,’ he said.

  Nick looked around the caravan. It was neat and bare. There used to be more stuff, like plants and photos and knickknacks, but the plants had died and he’d tossed the rest of it. There wasn’t much of him there; except for a few clothes and Tabitha, the caravan could have belonged to anyone.

  Nick frowned at the thought. He hadn’t noticed just how empty the place was.

  Tabitha meowed and looked up him expectantly.

  ‘Tabs, you’ve got your own,’ he said as he stared back at her.

  There was a battle of wills for another moment, but Tabitha had soon swished her tail and went to investigate her bowl.

  Things had been changing over the past few months. Especially since he’d had the run in with
the town’s latest blow-in, the writer, Matt Harvey. Nick had found him trespassing and nosing around the unfinished house at the top of the property. The guy had been filming himself and talking about how sad the place felt. Nick’s initial response was to kick him off his property—literally. But he had resisted, and they started talking. Surprisingly, there had been a connection of sorts. When Matt had told him he knew what it was like to lose everything, Nick believed him. Several years ago he’d been in a car accident along with his fiancée. Matt had survived but she hadn’t. He’d been a broken man looking for a new start when he’d blown in from Melbourne. Then of course he’d met Bec Duprey and everything changed and Nick was happy for him. Nick heard it before from people trying to be sympathetic and kind, but it was always bullshit wrapped up in a bunch of pretty words. They didn’t know, they didn’t understand what he felt—but it turned out Matt actually did. From that point on, Nick’s life began to change. For the first time in a very long while he started to open his eyes and see what was around him.

  The solitary existence and the silence began to lose its appeal. In an odd way, it was almost as if he was waking up and learning to live again. Damn, that sounded melodramatic, but it was how he felt. All of a sudden, he saw how the farm had fallen into disrepair, and it worried him. How could he have let that happen?

  Whereas before Nick had shunned the company of others, now he began to crave a little conversation or human interaction. Matt had said that he was welcome to drop around to his place, and Nick had been positive that he’d never take him up on it. Matt lived in a small cottage on the other side of White Gum Creek, on Magpie Lane right next to Bluestone Ridge, the biggest sheep run in the area and owned by the Duprey family for generations. That’s how he’d run into Bec Duprey—they rubbed each other the wrong way until they didn’t and the rest is town history.

  But eventually he did pay Matt a visit, and they became friends, which was strange as they were in many ways poles apart. Matt had come from a well off sort of upbringing in the city—maybe it wasn’t privileged but by Nick’s standard it was. Matt had gone to uni, travelled and had a high paying job before he changed paths and started writing. Nick on the other hand had left school as soon as he could and picked up any labouring jobs he could find. There had never been much money in the household as he was growing up and his parents scraped by. He managed to get into the building game when a mate of his Dad took him on as an apprentice. So he and Matt looked at things in a different way, but somehow had found common ground.