by Mandy Magro
‘I know the train of thought you’re on, Ivy, and it’s the right one in some aspects. Although you can use the house as collateral for the loan, I still need to show that you’ve got sufficient funds coming in to support a loan of that amount … and at the moment you don’t, with the sorry state of affairs Healing Hills is in. But just give me a minute …’ He popped his glasses back on and grabbed his calculator, his fingers going like the clappers as he punched in numbers while mumbling to himself. After less than a minute he looked up at Ivy again. ‘I can offer you a loan of twenty-five thousand.’
Although there was an offer of sorts on the table, and it wasn’t a big fat no, Ivy’s heart still sank like a destroyed battleship – she’d been counting on the fifty thousand dollars to cover the costs of renovation materials and the expense of an experienced builder. At the going rate of ninety dollars an hour, how was she going to be able to afford a qualified carpenter now? And the job was way too big to achieve on her own – pulling kitchens and bathrooms apart was certainly not her forte. Besides, the council had told her they’d only approve the renovations if done by a qualified tradesperson. She looked at the floor, unable to meet Gerald’s eyes for fear of crying.
‘We’ll gladly accept your offer, Gerald,’ she heard May say. ‘Thank you for your time and understanding.’
Ivy dragged her eyes from the floor and towards her aunt, blinking furiously. ‘But, Aunt May, I can’t see how we’re going to achieve all this without the fifty thousand.’
May gathered Ivy’s hands in hers. ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way, love.’ Her voice was soft and soothing, but it did nothing to alleviate Ivy’s soaring tension.
Ivy shook her head sadly. ‘There isn’t always a way.’
Gerald stood. ‘How about I give you ladies some time to chat? I need to go and make myself another cuppa anyway.’ He moved towards the closed door then stepped back to grab his cigarettes out of the top drawer. ‘Would any of you like a coffee or tea while I’m at it?’
There was a collective, ‘No, thank you.’
With Gerald gone, Ivy jumped up from her chair and began pacing the room, managing to walk into the Leaning Tower of Pisa paperwork beside Gerald’s desk in the process. She cursed her clumsiness as she knelt down to tidy it up. ‘I don’t see how you pair think we can do this with only twenty-five thousand dollars.’ Her voice was a few notches higher than usual, and laced with irritation – she never spoke to her aunts like this and hated herself for doing so. She tried with everything she had to calm down. ‘I mean, with building costs and wages and –’
‘Sweetheart,’ Alice said, voice gentle as always, ‘we haven’t got a choice. We either accept his offer, or say goodbye to Healing Hills for good – and I know I speak for all of us when I say that is out of the question. As you well know, I’m a firm believer in everything panning out just how it should, and I’m certain that if this is the path we are meant to be following, the universe will provide us with a way around this little roadblock.’
Ivy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You consider this a little roadblock?’
May nodded her head like a bobble-headed doll on the dash of a four-wheel drive out bush bashing. ‘I totally agree with Alice. Don’t throw the towel in yet, Ivy. We will make it through this. Remember, we Tucker women never give up. Rah.’ She punched the air.
The paperwork somewhat restacked beside Gerald’s desk, Ivy rolled her eyes and huffed weightily as she stood. She was usually more than happy to be on her aunts’ positive bandwagon, but today she just felt like ramming it off the tracks. Damn stress – it was exasperating. ‘I hope you’re both right, because we’re going to need some kind of miracle to be able to achieve what we want with way less money.’
Alice reached out and touched her arm. ‘Like I always say, Ivy, believe it will happen and miracles will follow.’
***
‘I told ya, it’s a bit like riding a bike … ya never forget how to do it,’ Larry said as he lightly pushed Jessie off his lap and then slid out of the passenger seat of the Kingswood. He grinned as he leant on the window frame, his face covered in dry speckles of mud, as was his T-shirt, and his wild hair was completely flattened on one side from the wind that had been blowing through the open window. ‘I might have to check me undies though, that massive roo jumping out of nowhere scared the friggin’ life outta me. Thank God ya swerved when ya did or the bastard would have ended up on the front seat with us.’
‘My oath, it coulda been messy if I hadn’t spotted him in time,’ Ronny said. ‘Sorry I got us bogged in the Mayberrys’ field, but I had nowhere else to go when I swerved. We’re bloody lucky old Burt Mayberry didn’t see it.’
‘Yeah, he can be a cranky old bugger at times.’ Larry chuckled, his eyes squinting at the corners. ‘But no worries, I like me a bit of an adventure, keeps the old ticker ticking.’ His bushy eyebrows shot up as he slapped the windowsill and then turned to walk away. ‘I’ll catch ya later on,’ he called over his shoulder.
Ronny wound his window right down, grinning at the fact it wasn’t powered and he had to do it the old-fashioned way – with a window winder. Once again, it was Lottie all over. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come for a ride this arvo, Larry? It won’t take me long to saddle old Merle up too.’
Larry shook his head. ‘Nah, I got me a hot date with Shirl tonight and I wanna give meself enough time to shower and shave and dress dapper for her. We’re stepping it up and going to the new Chinese restaurant in town, seeing as it’s our three-month anniversary. Honey king prawns are her favourite.’
‘You old romantic, you.’
‘Yeah, who woulda thunk it, huh? I might even shout her some deep-fried ice cream with strawberry topping,’ Larry added cheekily as he gave Ronny a wave and headed down the path to his front door. ‘Catch ya tomorrow, mate, enjoy your ride on Hank. Just watch the bugger though, I don’t know if ya remember, but he tends to toss ya from the saddle sometimes, just to make sure you’re awake.’ He instinctively rubbed his lower back as he shook his head.
Ronny returned his wave before he gave Jessie a rub on the head, then turned the Kingswood around and headed back to the cottage. It was great to see Larry so happily in love – the bloke deserved it. It had certainly been a long time coming. Hopefully one day Ronny could say the same for himself, and hopefully a lot sooner than Larry because he didn’t want to run out of time to have a family. He longed for children, and that special woman to share his life with, now he had a life to share, because he had a lot of love to give. Which got him to thinking about Ivy again – although she hadn’t really left his mind. Seeing her in town this morning had sparked the fire she’d lit within him all those years ago, and he wished things could have been different and that he’d met her under different circumstances. She’d make a man one hell of a wife one day.
Pulling up under the shade of the big old gum tree beside the cottage, Ronny’s eye was caught by something in the backyard. What the heck were all the clothes he’d hung on the clothesline this morning doing strewn about the back lawn? He jumped out with Jessie in tow and wandered towards the back fence. His favourite blue Wrangler shirt now lay in shredded pieces. What the hell? Another few steps confirmed exactly how it had happened when he met Ned, Lottie’s grumpy old goat that he’d tried to become acquainted with this morning. Ned had made sure to give him anything but a warm welcome as he attempted to butt Ronny each and every time he’d tried to give him a friendly pat. It hadn’t been overly aggressive, but enough to let Ronny know Ned didn’t warm to anyone easily. Ronny wasn’t too concerned – he knew he’d get the belligerent goat to come around eventually. Eyeing the wayward animal, Ronny had to hold back a chuckle. A pair of his jocks hung from the goat’s right horn and what appeared to be a sock hung halfway out of Ned’s mouth. This should be no laughing matter but it was impossible not to see the funny side of it. Ned tipped his head, as if perplexed by the exasperated look on Ronny’s face, his beady eyes watching Ronny’
s every move.
Telling Jessie to go sit on the back verandah, Ronny glared at Ned as angrily as he could while still trying to hold back a burst of laughter. ‘You’re a little shithead,’ he said as he jumped the fence, arms outstretched. ‘Come here, you bloody bugger, and give me back my sock – and my jocks while you’re at it!’
Ned bleated loudly as if to say, ‘Stuff you,’ and then took off in a gallop, heading straight for the small gap in the fence he must have squeezed through in the first place, and towards his mate, a Shetland pony called Grace, not that she had any of that – Ronny had learnt she was as tetchy as Ned thanks to a few nips to his butt earlier. They certainly made for a good couple: grumpy and grumpier. What the heck Lottie saw in the two wayward creatures was beyond him, but then again she’d always been one to take in the downtrodden and love them. He knew that all too well. And out of respect for Lottie he would learn to do the same – he would love these two rascals if it damn near killed him.
Skidding to a stop at the fence he noted the hole he was now going to have to fix as the two ducks, Plucka and Donald, went waddling past with Nugget the Rooster following closely behind – the three feathered friends stopping to watch the commotion from a safe distance. Ronny glared at Ned as he stood on the other side of the fence, chewing his sock into obliteration. He could swear the goat was almost smiling. Behind him, Grace neighed as though cheering Ned on, while up on the verandah, Jessie watched, her head tipped to the side. Cindy Clawford sat next to the dog, her attention, too, focused on the event unfolding.
Ronny shook his head, chuckling to himself – he certainly had a captive audience. He shook his finger at Ned like he was a naughty child. ‘If we’re going to get along, there’s gotta be some ground rules.’ He swung his arm around behind him, gesturing to his mangled clothes on the lawn. ‘There’ll be no more of this, mister, or I’ll be making myself a Jamaican goat curry.’ Ronny knew he didn’t mean it, but Ned didn’t, and goddamn it, how else was he meant to threaten a goat?
Ned opened his mouth and dropped what was left of the sock, leaving his mouth wide, as though he understood every word Ronny had said and was in complete and utter shock that a human would ever consider eating him.
Ronny couldn’t help but break into laughter at the sight before him – his blue pair of jocks still dangling from Ned’s horn. Huffing, he then shook his head and groaned lightheartedly before beginning to collect his clothes from the ground while sorting out which ones would be binned and which ones were still wearable. With all these crazy animals there certainly was never going to be a dull day at Sundown Farm – and he loved the fact. And once he cleaned up here, he was going to go and spend time with some more Sundown animal friends, Merle and Hank.
***
As Ronny gave Hank a light scratch on the muzzle, the horse regarded him with big eyes that had the capacity to see right through a person and into their heart and soul. In response, the twelve-year-old buckskin gelding lifted his head slightly and gave Ronny a sniff. Ronny returned the gesture by placing his nose up close to Hank’s and breathing in and out, mimicking a friendly horsey greeting – such a simple but effective way of bonding with a horse. Over in the corner, lying on some straw, Jessie watched from sleepy eyes. Outside, Merle whinnied his displeasure at not being the one chosen for a ride. Hank replied to his mate with a short nicker.
Ronny stuck his head out of the stable door, smiling at the slightly older horse. ‘Next time, buddy. I promise.’
Merle gazed at him for a few seconds as though assessing if Ronny was telling the truth before turning his attention back to the feed at his feet.
Stepping back inside, Ronny couldn’t help but feel pride in where he was standing. He’d built the stables from weathered oak planks for Lottie over a weekend visit not long before he’d been sent to prison, and he was proud to see the structure still standing, the many years not taking much of a toll. He hoped he was going to be lucky enough to get a job doing what he loved once more – there was just something so satisfying about working with his hands, and he treasured the feeling he got when he stood back and appreciated a job well done. But he didn’t hold out much hope of snapping up his dream job in a town as small as Bluegrass Bend, and he wasn’t keen to travel to neighbouring towns for work if he could help it – that would mean too much time away from Sundown, and he had to keep up with what needed doing around here too – he couldn’t leave it all to Larry. If push came to shove, he would just take whatever he could get, for now, and just put his feelers out for a more permanent carpenter’s job in the meantime.
He breathed in his surrounds as he knelt down to buckle his spurs around his boots. The place smelt of straw, leather and horse – three smells he absolutely adored. Half empty hay nets hung limply in the corner and the stable door sat with the top half pinned back by a rusted nail. Along the side wall hung a multitude of bridles, breastplates, reins and ropes. On the timber table beneath all this were brushes, combs, hoof picks, feed buckets and the like, and over a railing made especially for them sat four much-loved saddles alongside a few saddle pads – he was in absolute heaven in here. He stood and finished saddling up a slightly eager Hank, his spurs chinking with each step, excited himself at the thought of going for a late afternoon ride. Ronny put his boot in the stirrup and effortlessly threw his leg over before settling into the well-worn saddle. He gave Hank a gentle cue to get going and the horse made his way out of the stables and into the open, the gelding stopping momentarily to drop his head and snatch a mouthful of grass. Ronny gave the reins a firm tug, letting Hank know in no uncertain terms that he was the boss. Like a rebellious child, Hank whinnied then took a few steps forwards and once again lowered his head. Ronny could sense the buck coming seconds before Hank even moved. Sitting his butt firmly in the saddle while keeping his stomach and back relaxed, Ronny flowed with the horse’s movements, making sure to leave the reins slack – Ronny knew if he tightened up, he’d just become a spring for the horse’s exaggerated motion and bounce right out of the saddle. Like a rocking chair, a horse didn’t keep rocking unless you rocked it. One buck, two bucks, and then Hank gave up, for now – Ronny wasn’t going to slip into a false sense of security on this strong-willed horse’s back.
Squeezing both his legs to cue the horse forwards, Ronny eased Hank into a trot and then a canter, knowing from experience that the best way to keep Hank from misbehaving was to work him, and work with him. Muscles rippling underneath his glossy coat and with his tail and mane flowing in the breeze, Hank’s fluid movement gave Ronny goose bumps. He closed his eyes and revelled in the wind whipping past him and the sound of Hank’s hooves pounding the ground, feeling absolute bliss. God, he’d waited for what felt like a lifetime for this very moment. With the sun on his back, and his wide-brimmed hat shading his eyes from the glare, he enjoyed the sensation of finally being at one with a horse and his surroundings – the sense of freedom that came with this was overwhelming after so long behind bars. Ronny’s spirit soared. As Hank broke into a gallop, man and horse headed towards the National Park that Sundown Farm backed onto as time began to dissolve.
CHAPTER
6
Pulling the rope to call the ladder down, Ivy began to climb up into the attic, clutching her aunts’ old bookwork in doubled-up lemon-scented garbage bags. She was being extra careful not to slip in her socked feet like she had the last time she’d climbed this very ladder a few years back. She really didn’t need a twisted ankle at the moment, or a busted chin, there was too much to do and not enough time to do it in to go causing herself an injury. It had taken her all day yesterday and a few hours this morning to get the homestead’s office into some kind of acceptable working order, her old-fashioned aunts finally agreeing it was time to let her bring the world of modern-day technology into their pen-and-paper office. Ivy couldn’t wait to set up the Apple iMac she’d bought at the computer shop in Kooloy – it was going to make keeping the finances in order a whole lot easier and it was also goi
ng to make their accountant the happiest woman alive: May and Alice arriving at her office with a shoebox of receipts and a few books scribbled with half-remembered outgoings and incomings would now be a thing of the past.
It was no wonder they were in such financial strife. And it wasn’t like Ivy could really be annoyed at them for that, her aunts had always just been more focused on working with the horses than crunching numbers. Ivy, on the other hand, was passionate about both, and she was more than prepared to divide herself between working at the desk and working out in the paddock – as well as giving all she had to the renovations and marketing side of things over the next few months. The thought of how thin she was going to have to spread herself made her temples instantly throb. Lord help her – she really needed to clone herself.
The memory of Gerald saying no to the extra money made her blood pressure rise – as if they were going to be lucky enough to find a fully qualified carpenter who’d work for a weekly wage when accustomed to charging a ridiculous amount of money per hour. The problem was doing her head in, to say the least, but she wasn’t going to give up on wishing and hoping that the miracle Alice and May kept referring to would happen. In the meantime, she needed to make a start on the renovations ASAP. A trip to Bunnings in Kooloy while she was collecting the computer had provided her with some tools and loads of advice on DIY projects from the helpful staff. The work sounded fairly simple when explained to her, but putting it into action was going to be completely different.
Silence reigned in the dimly lit attic. As the scent of staleness and dust hit her, she looked over the boxes and garbage bags full of pre-loved things that had been stored here over the years. There were so many precious memories tucked away in here, some of which belonged to her ancestors. It was kind of like a graveyard for treasured items that were no longer used, but still had enough sentimental value to not be thrown away – the pain of parting with each item postponed until the sentimental value had faded. One day she would have to find the time to explore the hidden treasures. Placing the weighty bag down on the floor, Ivy went to the window on the far side of the room, being careful not to walk into the many cobwebs along the way, and wiped the grimy dust from the colourful stained-glass window.
