Standing Strong

by Fiona McCallum

  Tonight, as always, she talked about how a psychologist could help with a problem and that it wasn’t the same as airing one’s dirty linen. Everything spoken about within the walls of her office remained confidential. At least this time around, Jacqueline had the benefit of a little more knowledge of why she thought people were reluctant to seek professional help: they didn’t like to show themselves as being weak. From what she’d seen – and heard from Ethel and Damien and a few others – country people generally seemed a very resourceful group. They wanted to sort out their problems on their own. To seek help was to show weakness or to complain. And another thing country people tended not to do was openly complain.

  Once she explained that to seek help might actually be seen as being smart – using all the resources available – she left the subject so it might sink in, and turned to a lighter topic. She spoke about her tidy life, tidy mind principle and how lists could help to make an overwhelming amount of things to do feel a lot more manageable.

  Finally she got to her favourite subject of learning to listen to one’s intuition or inner voice more to avoid making mistakes that turned into regrets. Intuition, she explained, was there to protect you. It was your soul, governed by the universe – or God, if that’s where your faith lay. Personally, Jacqueline detested organised religion – it was control through fear, in her opinion. But she kept her religious views to herself. She was very spiritual, it just didn’t manifest itself in her through being Catholic, Anglican, or whatever. While she’d been raised to believe religious and political views should not be openly discussed, she’d also learnt that a high percentage of country people still went to church each week. It was important to have faith in something – even if it was yourself, your ability to get through what life tossed your way or that the universe – or God, if that was your view – would have your back. This she did say.

  Jacqueline explained that intuition was the little voice deep inside or a feeling that makes you pause ever so briefly. When you keep going without acknowledging the intuition or acting on what it’s telling you, chances are it will turn out to be hindsight that kicks you in the butt.

  ‘Like sometimes you might think briefly, hmm, I probably should fill up with fuel, but dismiss it. You don’t have time, can’t be bothered. Then the next thing you know you’ve run out and end up having to walk miles thinking, if only I’d just filled the damned thing up. That’s hindsight kicking you up the butt, my friends.’

  The ripple of tittering and head nodding told her plenty of people here related to her example.

  She went on to explain that these days, with people keeping so busy, it’s easy to not hear the great voice of intuition. Didn’t she know that all too well? She paused for breath and a sip of her water. She certainly wasn’t going to use her blunder with Damien as an example. Though it was a bloody good one.

  ‘We need to stop regularly and sit quietly for a while to calm the mind so it can pass on messages that keep us safe,’ she said. ‘It’s important to not let all the other noise drown out the voice of intuition and the subconscious – it’s possibly the most important tool we have.’ She was verging on sounding melodramatic, but she didn’t care. It was what she believed, what she was passionate about. If more people stopped to listen to their kind inner voice (not the negative one that put them down – that was a whole other thing) and acted on what they heard and felt, they would have a much happier and calmer life. It wasn’t hard, it just took some concentration and effort in remembering what to do.

  ‘Your intuition and subconscious know everything. You just need to give them a chance to show you, to tell you. Like, say you went into a room to get something, but because you were in a rush or thinking about other things, you get there only to wonder why you had come in in the first place. Who hasn’t done this plenty of times in their life? Me, certainly. Anyway, if you clear your mind and go back the way you came, you’ll remember what you went in for. It works every time if you still your mind enough to let your wise inner voice come through loud and clear.’

  She ended there and was rewarded with hearty applause. Mrs Bishop appeared beside her and when the chatter and applause had died down, invited the audience to ask questions.

  There weren’t many, and those who did put up their hand did so to offer up their own experiences of listening to their intuition. On a few occasions, the room erupted into laughter and chattering and had to be brought back to order by Mrs Bishop. Finally the time had come to wrap things up and Mrs Bishop asked for one final question.

  It came from right at the back of the room, from a tall, well-presented woman Jacqueline guessed to be in her sixties, with grey hair cut into a rather severe chin-length bob.

  ‘Is it true that you’re now seeing one of your patients – in a romantic sense – and is this really ethical?’

  It took all Jacqueline’s strength to keep her expression neutral and not let her mouth drop open. She willed her colour not to rise, but didn’t need to worry; she had just felt her blood drain away.

  ‘No. I did see a former client socially on a few occasions. And, no, a practitioner can’t have a personal relationship with a current client. That’s against the rules.’ She chose her words very carefully and was sure she hadn’t actually lied. She’d left out the word sexual – no need to get into specifics or be crass.

  ‘But if the person was vulnerable – because that’s why they’d be seeing you in the first place …’ the woman persisted.

  But Mrs Bishop had clearly run a few meetings in her time and dealt with pesky types and curly questions before – and for all Jacqueline knew, this woman might be a serial pest at these sorts of events – and she shut proceedings down quick smart.

  ‘You’re welcome to discuss it privately with Ms Havelock. There are stacks of her business cards on the supper tables with her contact details on. And now let’s show our appreciation to Ms Havelock for giving up her evening to come along and give us the benefit of her expertise. I know I’ve got a lot out of it and will be taking extra care to listen to my inner voice in the hope I get fewer kicks in the butt from hindsight. Thank you very much, Ms Havelock,’ she said, smiling warmly at Jacqueline and handing her a bottle of wine wrapped in cellophane. She then led the crowd in a round of applause.

  Phew. And bless you, Jacqueline thought, as she dipped her head and mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ through the noise.

  ‘And now, supper is served out in the supper room,’ Mrs Bishop said, when the noise had subsided and the clapping had been replaced with chatter. Jacqueline exited the stage with Mrs Bishop, who left her in Ethel’s capable hands while she went to double-check all was well with supper.

  ‘God, can you believe that question at the end?’ Jacqueline hissed.

  ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,’ Ethel said. ‘Just continue to put on a brave front, smile, and mingle. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.’ Ethel squeezed her elbow reassuringly.

  Jacqueline wished she could muster Ethel’s confidence. Everything had been going so well until that last question. Oh, well, nothing she could do about it. If the woman caused her further grief, she’d deal with it. She squared her shoulders and entered the sea of people balancing cups of tea and plates of cake. She accepted a cup and an empty plate just as she was swallowed into her first small group of people. She slid the plate under her saucer – it wouldn’t feel quite right eating while she was talking.

  Jacqueline was exhausted when she finally collapsed into the passenger’s seat of Ethel’s car and accepted the paper plate of goodies covered in cling wrap. ‘Yum,’ she said, grabbing a cream cake. She wasn’t hungry by any stretch, thanks to the milkshake still sitting in her stomach, but the cake was too irresistible. Thank goodness she hadn’t encountered the lady with the curly question again. She suspected Ethel might have had something to do with that. She stayed silent and let Ethel concentrate on driving until she could hold her tongue no longer.

  ‘God, Ethel, fancy that lady asking that. Do
you think she’ll dob me in?’

  ‘No. I know she won’t dob you in.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I spoke to her.’

  ‘Oh no, you didn’t.’ Jacqueline knew only too well that when it came to human nature, reverse psychology was a powerful thing. If Ethel had warned the woman to leave it alone, then chances were she would wonder about all the fuss and pursue it with vigour when she might otherwise have dropped it.

  ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t warn her off, or anything. Just explained that Damien was my nephew and that he had called off the relationship with you because he was too busy with his new venture. She seemed to accept it and that there was nothing untoward going on. Thankfully she’d heard of Esperance Animal Welfare Farm. So, you have nothing to worry about with her – of that I’m certain. I actually think she has a suitor for you in mind – a grandson. I think she might have offered you his number if Lisa Bishop hadn’t shut her down so quickly,’ Ethel said, grinning cheekily at Jacqueline.

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Well, you’re new blood, dear. Every second person is going to want you paired up with their son, brother, nephew or grandson. Sad, but true, I’m afraid. You’d better get a decent thanks but no thanks story sorted, missy, if you’re going to stay true to Damien.’

  ‘Of course I’m going to stay true to Damien. How could you even question it?’

  ‘Well, two years is a long time when you’re waiting for something, someone. And your generation is not known for its patience,’ Ethel said sagely as she pulled into her driveway.

  Jacqueline said no more than, ‘Thanks so much again for driving me,’ before giving her friend a tight hug. ‘Goodnight. See you soon.’

  ‘Sleep well,’ Ethel replied.

  Chapter Ten

  After doing a check of his property, Damien spent a few hours preparing for his visit to the old folks’ home. Bob and Cara had been highly insulted to have been subjected to being washed. They were so well-behaved they’d merely stood and scowled, and then shaken themselves off furiously, as though shaking off the embarrassment of it all. Damien had laughed at how they had enjoyed being towelled off, especially having their ears and heads rubbed, even to the point of groaning with pleasure. They were now lying on the caravan floor; Damien hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by letting them go anywhere that would undo his hard work of the past hour. Anyway, it was a good test to see how they liked being indoors. If they freaked out and leapt all over the place in a frenzy to find a way out, then they’d be staying here, locked up in their run. He needn’t have worried – they were sprawled out calmly as if this was how they spent all their time.

  Damien told them to stay and tempted fate further by leaving them unsupervised so he could take Squish outside for a wash. The little dog was small enough to be done in the caravan sink, but he didn’t relish wiping all the droplets or soap suds from every surface when Squish decided to shake himself off. For a small body, he sure did get a decent shake up.

  The kittens were in their box on the small outdoor table nearby so as not to inadvertently become a snack for the kelpies inside. Jemima was out of her pouch and getting in the way. A few times Damien gently splashed her nose in an effort to discourage her, but she was becoming very bold. And she had developed quite an attachment to Squish, so she wanted to be nearby.

  Finally Damien had his exhibits presentable for their trip into town. He hoped Mrs Timms realised what she was letting herself in for. He figured the kittens might enjoy a bit of a cuddle. Or they could stay in their box in a corner out of the way. He wasn’t leaving them home alone or in the ute.

  He chained Bob and Cara on the back of the ute, settled the kittens in their box on the passenger’s seat and encouraged Jemima, who decided she didn’t fancy going back into her pouch right at that moment, to sit on the floor on the passenger’s side. He hoped she would stay put. She was growing so quickly, it would only be a matter of weeks before she started causing chaos in the cab if she chose to. Squish sprawled out on the seat beside Damien.

  He was a little nervous as he turned out of the property after stopping to check he hadn’t had any new arrivals dropped off in his enclosure. Fingers crossed you guys don’t disgrace me, he thought with a deep breath as he put the ute into gear.

  At the home, he realised he must look quite the funny sight, standing there holding a box with four squeaking kittens – they did that most of the time when they weren’t sleeping or feeding. Beside him Jemima hid in her pouch with Squish standing close by to protect her. And sitting at Damien’s feet, as though they were the best trained, most obedient dogs in the world, were Bob and Cara – farm dogs extraordinaire! They seemed to get that this was important. Like the day of the fire, Damien thought wistfully, while he waited for the door to be answered.

  Mrs Timms greeted him warmly. ‘Wow, you’ve brought quite a menagerie,’ she said, looking Damien and his charges over. ‘What do you have in there?’ she asked, pointing to the box.

  ‘Kittens. I couldn’t leave them. They’re pretty tiny – maybe too small for socialising …’ Damien introduced her to the dogs and just as he was saying the joey called Jemima was hiding in her pouch, she popped her head out and looked about.

  ‘Oh, aren’t you a cutie?’ Mrs Timms said, bending down to give Jemima a pat, only to be licked by Squish, demanding his share of attention.

  ‘Is there anything I can do? And do you want to go straight in and meet the residents or do you need to do anything first?’

  ‘No, we’re good to go, thanks. And if you could take the kittens, that would be great. I’ll bring Jemima. Thanks.’

  As Damien crossed the threshold into the slightly musty-smelling building with Bob and Cara looking up at him quizzically, he felt a bolt of apprehension and nerves surge through him. Well, this is it, Damo, your first real test. Too late to back out now and not look like a dickhead. Squish had no such apprehension; he bolted inside.

  ‘Come on, guys, in you come,’ he urged the farm dogs. They seemed to look at each other and shrug before following their master in.

  Mrs Timms took him into a large room that, judging by the piano in the corner, was the recreation or entertainment room. What looked like most of the residents were arranged around the edge of the room in chairs, a couple of wheelchairs, and a few mobility scooters.

  He was thrilled when Mrs Timms not only introduced him, but gave his new business a plug by name and spoke a bit about what it was all about. She must have read the write-up in the paper about the launch the other week. He damned near shed a tear when she told the group he’d lost everything in the recent fire and that he’d decided to go on a more meaningful path; she’d obviously been talking to Auntie Ethel in depth. All this attention took Damien by surprise. He’d just brought the animals along to give the residents something a bit different to look at – bring some interest to what he imagined might otherwise be a pretty boring day. But at least the shock had quelled his nerves.

  ‘How about you introduce us to each of the friends you’ve brought along and tell us a bit about them, Damien,’ Mrs Timms suggested.

  ‘Okay, great,’ he said, smiling and nodding at her. This I can do.

  He decided to do it in chronological order, starting with Bob and Cara. They stood solemnly beside him, behaving perfectly.

  ‘This is Bob and this is Cara,’ he said, pointing to them in turn. ‘They’re kelpie work dogs.’ He figured plenty of the residents were most likely off farms, or at least got the gist of what work dogs did, so didn’t feel the need to elaborate. ‘They’re great at what they do, and were responsible for saving my two thousand head of sheep during the fire.’ God, I’m choking up. Damn it! He swallowed hard and forced the lump back down. ‘They love to have their heads and ears rubbed,’ he added with a laugh.

  ‘Shall I …?’ Mrs Timms said, patting Bob. Damien nodded. Bob and Cara were taken to each end of the row of people and Damien watched for a moment to make sure all was well before c
ontinuing. He picked Squish up.

  ‘This is Squish. About two months ago I found him on the side of the road in a sack. Sadly I was too late to save his siblings. I don’t know why I stopped that day, but something made me, and I’m so glad it did. I was going through a tough time emotionally.’ Again, he was annoyed to find himself choking up. Oh well, at least they would see how much these animals meant to him. ‘This little guy gave me something to care about and be responsible for. And I really needed that at that time,’ he finished with a shrug. Squish rewarded him with a big lick to the face. When he put Squish down, the little dog ran over to an old man who clapped his hands and called him by name, and hopped up into his lap. Damien’s heart lurched at seeing the old man’s eyes light up and a grin spread across his face.

  ‘In here is Jemima, a female eastern grey kangaroo joey,’ he said, holding up the sack. ‘She must be sleeping. Oh, no, she’s not, here she is,’ he said with a laugh as Jemima, as if on cue, popped her head out. A few of the residents clapped and Damien cringed and hoped she wouldn’t be frightened. She’d become used to the big dogs and Squish hanging around and a bit of banging of pots and pans in the caravan and while in Auntie Ethel’s kitchen. ‘I found her in a bad way after the fire. She still has some bare, sore patches, but her recovery has been amazing. A young buck was injured too, and my auntie, Ethel Bennett, and I nursed him back to health. He’s been released back into the wild near where he was found. Unfortunately for Jemima, she was too young when she lost her mum, so will always have to live in captivity. Well, it seems she’s keen to meet you all,’ he said with another laugh, as Jemima fought to exit her pouch. There was silence as they watched her make her way around the room, going up to the residents in turn and sniffing them. ‘As you can see, she loves a bit of attention. And like Bob and Cara, she loves her ears and head rubbed. And a tickle under the chin.