Standing Strong

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Sounds good. It’ll be great to have transport again.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her father about Damien, but she didn’t. They’d be here in a few days – it could wait. And it would be much better to tell them in person. She doubted they could help, but their support would be a huge relief.

  She turned her attention back to her father, who was telling her about their going a day without power at the surgery thanks to the wild weather that had swept though. That got her attention and she suddenly felt guilty – she should have rung to check they were okay. But she’d seen the map of damage on the news and it hadn’t been anywhere near the house. She hadn’t given any thought to the surgery being right in its path.

  ‘God, Dad, that’s terrible. Thank goodness you only lost power and not the roof.’

  ‘It got a bit chaotic in the dark, but everyone scrabbled through okay. Anyway, enough about our dramas. How’s everything with you?’

  ‘Well, I’ve just got home, actually. I’ve been part of a big CFS debrief. They lost a couple of houses this week. Did it make the news?’

  ‘I didn’t see anything about fires over your way. Goodness. The Barossa fires still seem to be getting all the airplay.’

  ‘It was amazing, Dad …’ As Jacqueline relayed her evening, she thought how good it felt to share it with someone who didn’t take for granted what she’d experienced.

  ‘Wow, you really sound like you’re becoming part of the place,’ Philip said when she’d finished. ‘That’s great. And they say you have to be born into these rural communities to be fully accepted. I guess being so close with Damien is a big help.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jacqueline almost let it go, but stopped herself. It wasn’t fair to keep them in the dark. Especially now her father had brought Damien’s name up. Hadn’t she just been telling the audience at the CFS shed not to put things off? One of her mother’s favourite phrases came to mind: ‘Do as I say, not what I do.’ She took a fortifying breath.

  ‘Dad. There’s something you should know …’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Philip Havelock said after she’d spilled the beans on the whole tale: her and Damien; the letter from the board; Doctor Squire’s support. Her face had begun flaming as if she was a teenager being subjected to a sex education class when she’d had to mention they’d not actually had sex, but she’d decided it was all or nothing. And it felt good to get it out in the open. ‘You should have called us. But I understand why you didn’t.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I’m still working through it all myself.’

  ‘Well, it sounds like you’ve got a good ally in Doctor Squire. And you’ve got Ethel right across the road for support. I’m grateful for them. But, tell me, how’s Damien in all this?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. Since he ended things, we haven’t had any contact. I haven’t told him about the latest development of the letter from the board, though I imagine Ethel will have.’

  ‘The sad thing is you could have been together all along and had his support if it was going to end up like this anyway,’ Philip said.

  ‘Yes. It’s frustrating.’

  ‘But it’s done now. You just have to work through it. These things have a way of sorting themselves out. You’ll see.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She didn’t tell him that she thought it right that she suffer as a result of her stupidity.

  ‘Now, are you okay with me phoning Damien to let him know we’re coming over?’

  ‘Of course, Dad. You have a separate relationship with him because of Esperance. That’s your business. And I wouldn’t mind knowing how everything is going out there.’

  ‘Well, hopefully this will all blow over soon and you can take up where you left off.’ His unspoken words – But I’m not going to be your go-between – hung in the air. ‘We’ll talk about all this more when we get there Saturday. Are you okay if I update your mum?’

  ‘Probably best you do.’

  ‘Right, well, expect us mid to late afternoon. It’ll be a slow trip with lots of stops since your mum isn’t used to long-distance driving.’

  ‘If it’s a problem, I’m sure you could put the car on a car carrier.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. I think your mum is secretly quite relishing the chance to feel a little liberated,’ he said in a whisper.

  ‘Well, drive safely. I can’t wait to see you,’ Jacqueline said, a wave of emotion sweeping through her.

  ‘And us too. Love from Mum.’

  ‘And back from me. Thanks, Dad. See you soon.’ She ended the call feeling decidedly choked up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Damien felt bad about avoiding Jacqueline at the CFS do. God, how he’d itched to make his presence known when she’d been standing so close to Paul bloody Reynolds, who was known for his smooth moves and snappy dressing. At least he’d been in yellow like the rest of them. Shit, maybe that was worse. Wasn’t it well known that women were attracted to men in uniform? Maybe yellow didn’t count. He hoped not. Christ, this would all do his head in if he let it and he was already doing it tough. Bloody Paul bloody Reynolds. He hadn’t minded the guy until he’d seen him practically drooling over Jacqueline! Damien sighed. He couldn’t blame him; she’d been the best-looking girl in the room, in the district, by far. But she wasn’t his girl and until she was in the clear, he wasn’t about to do anything to get her in more shit.

  He hadn’t even risked meeting her gaze. One look into those eyes and he’d be spellbound. And if he’d got close enough to get a whiff of her hair, he’d have been a goner. He would’ve wrapped his arms around her and never let go. And she’d been wearing that top – or one the same colour – that made her browny-green eyes look bright emerald. Nope, no way he was going anywhere near her until she could be properly his again.

  Not that she’d ever really be his, even if they were an item. He wasn’t stupid enough to think a woman such as Jacqueline – well, any woman, really – was something to be owned. They were free spirits to be admired, adored and treasured. The idea that if you loved something then you should set it free and if it came back then it was yours, or however it went, had it sort of right. He reckoned most people had the wrong end of the stick about this love business: you had to set it free and welcome it back every waking second of every day. Being together was mutual, equal. Though, hell, look where he was on the old love wagon. Absolutely nowhere.

  Squish hopped into his lap and snuggled up. But I do have you, Damien thought, as he scratched the little dog behind the ears. Humans really could learn a thing or two from the animal kingdom. Animals were good judges of character and didn’t seem to go in for this cruel emotional manipulation crap that humans seemed so good at and seemed to do just because they could. He was sure Jacqueline hadn’t been deliberately trying to bait him at the CFS meeting, though. She was a free agent and twenty-three and a bit months was a very long time to expect her to stay true to him. This wasn’t the 1950s.

  Damien had the sudden thought that if he couldn’t have Jacqueline, he didn’t want any woman. And it wasn’t just a woe-is-me moan; the knowledge had settled upon him like any other major conviction, like his new venture, and the need to stand up to his mother. He chewed it over for a few moments, testing how he felt – really felt. Fine. Good. Okay. He knew all the women around here and it wasn’t like he had the time or energy to go looking for love elsewhere. Most new arrivals came already attached – Jacqueline had been the one exception in many years and she really seemed to fit in, even down to the classy but understated way she dressed – and they usually only stayed just long enough to make their men miserable before realising this country thing wasn’t for them.

  As far as Damien could see, most men failed when choosing a wife, especially those who brought back a slick, well-made-up girl strutting around in white and tottering on high heels. Who in their right mind wore white out here and expected it to stay clean? And how could these men not see that the look they were attracted to – the one most likely to impress their mates
and mothers – took maintenance and cost money? So it stood to reason that if you were happy to pay for the upkeep – which you would when you married and what was yours became hers – then a dolly bird would be a fine thing. But if you weren’t – and let’s face it, farmers were known for only spending their money on what could make them more money – then they were in for a rocky road and eventual heartbreak. And a substantial loss of funds.

  Perhaps it was because he had a sister who fancied herself as a bit of a sophisticate, but from where Damien was sitting, it all looked crystal clear. Year after year, he’d watched the well-to-do farmers – or those who liked to think they were – trot off to the city and return with a lovely ornament. And then, after the lavish wedding and interest from the local ladies had died down, so did the girl’s love for her farmer and her tolerance of the dust, flies and lack of decent shopping centre within cooee. If only the men put them through a bout of shearing, seeding and harvest first, they’d be much better off. A girl who could support you through all that without much complaint, few hissy fits, and only the odd mistake, like pranging into an auger and denting it, was a keeper in Damien’s mind.

  When it came to Jacqueline, however, his theory was totally shot. He couldn’t believe she didn’t at least have one grandparent who had been born and bred on the land. ‘Yep, she’s a really special one,’ he told Squish wistfully. ‘So, how are we going to get her back?’

  He’d set the day aside to write his letter of support and get the Facebook campaign to keep Jacqueline in town up and running. It was forecast to be a stinker – 42 degrees. It was meant to be autumn, for goodness sake! He was planning to hunker down in the caravan with its little air-conditioning unit. Hopefully it was up to the task. The idea of sitting down and writing a letter, let alone one where he had to spill his guts on his private stuff, didn’t exactly fill him with joy. But it had to be done.

  ‘Whatever it takes, Squish,’ he told the dog. It would be hard and would take him ages, but he’d do it. What he was more concerned about was the Facebook petition. They didn’t have time to get a big enough response. But his biggest worry with it was the wording. How could you ask for votes for Jacqueline to stay without telling everyone what she’d done wrong and embarrassing her? You couldn’t ask people to get on board with half-arsed, wishy-washy wording. And it would still have to be expressed well enough to gain credibility with the medical board people, whoever they were.

  He needed more coffee to nut this one out, he thought, getting up.

  Back at the table, he added a few more notes to those he already had from his discussion with Ethel about what to include in his letter. His main problem was how to write it so he got everything across without sounding like a dumb hick farmer. And, worse, doing more damage to Jacqueline’s cause. If he came across desperate or pleading, she’d be screwed.

  He felt a stab of anger and frustration towards her. It wasn’t too strong and was fleeting, but it was there. How could she have so badly fucked up? Yet if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had those couple of nights where he’d got to hold her in his arms and taste those sweet lips of hers … Oh, God. This is so not helping.

  Damien almost leapt on his phone with joy when it began ringing. ‘Hi, Auntie Ethel.’

  ‘How are you going with your letter?’

  ‘Um. Er. Bit slow actually.’

  ‘As in, you haven’t started yet.’

  ‘Yes, that. I’ll get there.’ I have to. ‘But, hey, how do we word a Facebook page and status post to drum up support for her without letting the cat out of the bag and embarrassing her? No one can know what she’s done or that she’s in deep shit.’

  ‘I’ve had the same thought. That’s why I’m ringing.’

  ‘So what are you writing for your petition? Please tell me you’ve come up with the perfect thing and I can steal it.’

  ‘No. I’m actually thinking of scrapping the petition and suggesting you scrap the Facebook petition too. You’re right, there’s no way of handling it delicately. The best I’ve come up with is, “If you think Jacqueline is an asset to this town and district, then sign below.” But that will make it look like her funding is being cut and her job is in jeopardy, which then puts Doctor Squire in the firing line. And which runs the risk of sending people to Jacqueline to personally offer their support, which totally defeats keeping it on the quiet.’

  ‘Hmm. So what else can we do? You’ve got a plan B, right? You always do.’

  ‘Not really. The only thing I can think of is getting more individual letters from the right people. Yes, we have to broaden the inner circle a little, but I think they can be trusted. Did you get a chance to speak to Keith at CFS last night?’

  ‘Yep. He’s on board.’

  ‘Good. I’ve got the others we talked about. Hopefully it’s enough to get her over the line and it won’t backfire on us. Oh, what a mess! How did last night go, anyway?’

  ‘Good. She was great.’ Damien was fully aware his tone was dreamy, but he didn’t care. His auntie Ethel knew the score.

  ‘We all know she’s great, Damien, but how was she received? It was a slightly different talk than what she’s been doing.’

  ‘It went well. She was brilliant. And that’s not just me – everyone was going on about how good she was afterwards. She really does make a lot of sense and does it without all the textbook-sounding crap.’

  ‘Yes, Damien, we all know you’re in love with Jacqueline,’ Ethel said with a laugh.

  ‘That obvious, huh?’

  ‘Yep. Don’t worry, we’re going to do our best to remedy the situation.’

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Ethel, for everything.’ But the thing that bothered Damien was the two-year waiting period. They might be able to get her out of trouble and keep her in her job, but the rule would still be there. And he was feeling so much worse about that now he’d seen the sharks starting to circle. But best he keep that to himself; saying it out loud would make it so much more real, and no doubt give Ethel another cause to try to fix.

  ‘Oh, before I forget. I had a call from Philip, Jacqueline’s dad, just before. They’re heading over with her new car tomorrow. He was checking on her on the quiet – she apparently told him everything last night over the phone. Anyway, I’ve invited them for dinner Saturday night. So now I’m inviting you – and your furry friends, if you like.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to be seen socialising with Jacqueline?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ethel said wearily. ‘But the way I see it, the damage is done. And we’re all friends. It will be good to be together again.’

  ‘Has Jacqueline agreed to this?’

  ‘Um, no, not yet.’

  ‘What are you up to?’ he asked, having noticed her cagey tone.

  ‘Well. I’m going to notice their car in the driveway and pop across and invite them to dinner. Philip has agreed to play along and get Eileen on board too.’

  ‘I’m not sure about tricking Jacqueline like that.’

  ‘It’s entirely up to you if you come or not. If so, be here at six-ish. Your choice. I’d better go and get the groceries. We’re having trifle for dessert, if that helps your decision-making process,’ Ethel added with a laugh.

  ‘It does. Though trifle is hardly last minute if you’re wanting everything to look spur of the moment to Jacqueline. But that’s up to you.’

  ‘Hmm. No, she’ll be fine. And we’ve got her parents as back-up.’

  ‘Well, I guess if her parents are on board, it can’t hurt too much. At least we’ll all be in trouble. And, Auntie, if anything can win her over, it’s your trifle.’ At least I’ll know she won’t be out with Paul – or anyone else.

  ‘So I take it you’re in.’

  ‘Yep. Count me in.’

  ‘Good boy. As I say, in for a penny, in for a pound. Now go and write that letter.’

  ‘Okey dokey. See you then, if not before.’

  Damien hung up feeling a little icky about being part of the
subterfuge around dinner, but much better about the whole campaign to help Jacqueline. He reckoned Jacqueline would have said if the Facebook page was causing him so much grief then maybe that was a sign it wasn’t meant to be. She was big on listening to your intuition, said it was there to protect you – you ignored it at your peril. Phew. He was glad he hadn’t. Deep down, he’d known it wasn’t the right thing to do. If Jacqueline hadn’t come into his life, he’d still be a miserable git getting into all sorts of trouble through ignoring the little voice in his heart or soul, or wherever it was located.

  That’s where he’d begin, he suddenly realised, grabbing his lined pad and pen. At the start.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jacqueline was in her lounge room, eagerly awaiting the sound of a vehicle pulling into her drive. She couldn’t sit still, and for the last hour had regularly leapt up and gone to the window every time she’d heard a car drive past or just to check she hadn’t missed their arrival.

  Finally there was the toot toot of a car horn. Jacqueline raced outside to find her mother emerging from a VW hatch that looked identical to the one she’d owned before, though much cleaner and shinier.

  ‘How was it?’ she asked, hugging her mother, who looked a little dishevelled and travel weary.

  ‘Exhausting. It’s a very long way,’ Eileen Havelock said, patting down her hair, as was her habit when things were a little off-centre in her world. ‘I’ve never driven so far in my life.’

  ‘Well, you did it. Well done,’ Jacqueline said, trying to build her mother’s spirits and reduce her own level of guilt for putting her through the ordeal. She should have insisted on having the dealer put it on a truck.

  ‘It really is a nice little car to drive, though,’ Eileen added.

  ‘That’s good. Thanks so much for bringing it over for me.’

  ‘It’s our pleasure. I just need to catch my breath. There were a lot of trucks out that last stretch – quite unnerving,’ she added with a nervous little laugh.