Down Outback Roads

by Alissa Callen

  Ewan slowed the heavy tractor’s pace as the double gates loomed on his right. ‘No problem. See, I was telling the truth about the GPS driving.’

  She laughed. ‘Not that I doubted you, but you do still need to keep an eye on what is happening and can’t totally switch off to read a newspaper.’

  Ewan pulled to a stop but Kree made no move to collect her hat from where it sat near her feet. ‘So, when are you eating lunch?’ she asked.

  ‘Lunch? I hadn’t really thought. Maybe now?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll stay for another row. I can hear my lamingtons calling.’

  Ewan assessed her innocent expression. Had Kree planned this? He frowned. Even if she had, he had little choice but to set the tractor in motion. He couldn’t forcibly remove her from the cabin.

  ‘Okay. Another row it is,’ he said, keeping his voice even. ‘What did Tish send for lunch?’

  Kree reached for the esky on the cabin floor and lifted it onto her lap. She took out a ham and salad roll, removed its plastic wrap and handed it to him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said without looking at her. The briefest brush of her fingers against his sent his blood pressure sky-high. The second drive across the wide paddock as the airseeder sowed another row was going to take forever.

  He ate in silence. Kree made no attempt to eat any of the lamingtons from the container in the chilled esky.

  ‘Ewan …’

  He braced himself. Her serious tone left him in no doubt Kree had indeed planned to stay in the cabin longer.

  ‘We need to finish last night’s conversation.’

  The sweetness of the tomato relish on his salad roll tasted like ashes in his mouth. He took a long drink from the water bottle beside him before answering. ‘No, we don’t, Kree.’

  ‘Yes, we do, but this time the conversation’s about me.’ She gave a small but sad smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m doing the talking. You don’t have to do anything but listen.’

  Determination fired in the steady gaze that met his. There was something Kree had to say and she hadn’t engineered this meeting to now leave without doing so.

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Here goes.’ She drew a breath. ‘It was the winter of Seth’s twelfth birthday. Mum … was no longer with us, and we’d moved from the foothills to the mountains where my parents had spent many happy summers painting. I think by being at Elk Falls, Dad felt like Mum was still somehow with us. But living at such a high altitude meant we got a lot of winter snow, and that winter the falls were particularly heavy.’

  Kree stared forward as though lost in another time and place. Ewan stayed quiet, giving her the space to talk. The pained press of her lips indicated there was far more to her story than winter weather.

  ‘We’d had a bad blizzard. The snowplough had passed our house but not the sanding truck, so the driving conditions were still dangerous. Dad was worried a car could slip off the road so when he went to shovel snow off our driveway, he told me to keep Seth inside. In many ways Seth is like Braye, and prefers being outdoors. And, as you know, he is impulsive. So, after being cooped up inside for days, he wasn’t happy.’

  Ewan disregarded the double gates as they passed. Their second row had finished but it was more important for Kree to finish her story than for him to reclaim his solitude.

  ‘I should have known Seth would sneak outside and not tell Dad he was there.’ The delicate skin of Kree’s throat rippled as she swallowed. ‘But what I didn’t know was a car would slide off the road and head straight towards where he was building a snowman on the sidewalk.’

  Ewan’s hand closed over Kree’s slender shoulder. The silken weight of her hair brushed his wrist as she turned her head towards him. Anguish pinched her face. ‘My father realised Seth was outside and in the path of the car. He raced over to push him out of the way but … there was no one to push him.’

  ‘Kree …’ Ewan squeezed her shoulder, knowing words would prove inadequate.

  ‘Even though the car leaving the road was an accident, I was convinced if Seth hadn’t been on the sidewalk, my father wouldn’t have lost his life saving him. For a long time, I blamed myself for my father’s death.’

  Ewan carefully lifted his hand from Kree’s shoulder. He now knew where the conversation was headed.

  Kree’s dull eyes met his. ‘I’m telling you all this, Ewan, because I want to show you life moves on, whether we like it or not, without the people we love in it. And part of life moving on is us letting go of guilt – accepting our loss and realising if we’d done things differently our loved ones still wouldn’t be with us. Even if Seth had stayed inside, the car would have slid along the sidewalk towards my father. The shovel he’d dropped where he’d been standing ended up beneath the engine.’

  ‘I know I’m only supposed to listen, and I do appreciate you trying to help.’ Ewan spoke through stiff lips. ‘I know how painful it is to talk about the past, but our situations just aren’t the same. You lost your father to a freakish and tragic accident. I lost my brother because my reflexes were too slow.’

  ‘Our situations are the same. We both aren’t to blame. You lost your brother because of the choices he made, not because of anything you did or didn’t do. He went to the pub, despite his wife’s protests and despite a storm approaching and when there, drank too much to drive himself home.’ Kree swivelled in her chair to face him. Emotion deepened the pink hue of her lips. ‘His selfishness put you both on that road.’

  Shock at Kree’s words flared like a struck match, burning its way through his self-control.

  ‘Don’t talk about Fergus like that.’

  ‘Why? Because it’s the truth?’

  Ewan braked the tractor to a shuddering stop and clamped his hands around the steering wheel. ‘No, because he’s not here to defend himself.’

  Kree’s voice lowered. ‘And if he was here, what would he say? That he could do what he wanted?’

  Ewan shook his head but even as he did so he knew Kree spoke the truth. Damn her perceptiveness. She hadn’t met his brother and yet she’d said almost the exact words Fergus would use to justify his actions. Fergus’s twin sister, Sarah, had died at birth and his mother had never recovered from the loss. She clung to Fergus and all his life had treated him as extra-special. The rules that applied to Ewan hadn’t ever applied to his charming and irresponsible sibling. But it didn’t matter if Kree was right, that Fergus had believed the world revolved around him. Ewan had been driving when the ute hit the brokendown header. He was the person responsible for the ute rolling.

  And he was the one to live.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Don’t you want your ice-cream?’ Braye asked from where he sat beside Kree on the Glenalla park bench. His own chocolate-topped ice-cream had been eaten down to the crisp biscuit cone in under three minutes.

  Kree took a quick lick to catch the chocolate poised to slide over her fingers. ‘Whoops. Yes, I do.’

  That would teach her to let thoughts of Ewan distract her. Her focus melted faster than an ice-cream in the outback heat, when it came to thinking about him. She had to find a way to help him move on – to let go of the past and live the life a good man like him deserved.

  Braye finished the end of his cone with a loud crunch. Still chewing, he leaned around Kree to eye off Darby’s still perfectly symmetrical ice-cream. Darby held his cone out of Braye’s reach and shook his head.

  ‘If you’ve finished, Braye, why don’t you go and play on the swing?’ Kree suggested with a grin. ‘There’s an ice-cream left in the box we bought from the grocery store, and when Darby has finished you can split it.’

  ‘Okay. Watch how high I can go?’

  A sudden quiet descended over the park bench as Braye raced off. Kree touched her cone to Darby’s in a conspiratorial toast. As much as she loved Braye’s energy and independent spirit, she and Darby were now free to finish their ice-cream in peace. A feeling Tish had shared as she’d mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ when Kree had l
ed the boys to the frozen section of the grocery store to find a special treat to eat in the park. Tish could now work her way through her long shopping list without any disruptions from the restless five-year-olds.

  Braye’s strong legs quickly jettisoned himself and the swing high into the air. Kree waved and took another quick lick of her own ice-cream as it again threatened to overflow. Darby tapped her arm and pointed across the road. Kree turned towards the double-storey building, with its green, wrought-iron filigree, that filled the corner block. When the hotel beside the coach house had burned down, the Calf and Cow would have become Glenalla’s only watering hole. Had someone who’d known her mother once drunk there? Had her mother once played in the park in which Kree now sat?

  A small, red-haired boy poked his head out a side door, waved at Darby, and then disappeared.

  ‘Your friend looks nice, Darby. What’s his name?’

  Kree deliberately asked an open question Darby couldn’t answer with body language. She’d also asked it in a hushed tone so Braye wouldn’t hear and talk for his brother. Before life had set her on her artist path, she’d been an audiologist and she’d specialised in working with children. From their interactions, she had a niggling doubt Darby’s receptive language wasn’t age appropriate. He often looked to Braye to find out what someone said or what he had to do if given a list of instructions, particularly in background noise. Ewan and Tish had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome at Marellen and where possible she’d help them and the boys in any way she could.

  She faced him so he could read her lips, and asked again, ‘What’s your friend’s name, Darby?’

  ‘His name’s Mikey, and he’s my friend, too,’ Braye yelled from the air as his swing descended.

  Kree silenced a chuckle. She had no doubt busy-body Braye heard and understood exceptionally well.

  Mikey again poked his head out the doorway and waved, before disappearing.

  Kree stood and tucked the box that contained the leftover ice-cream beneath her arm. She made sure Darby could see her face before she spoke.

  ‘Darby, shall we go and ask Mikey if he’d like to play with us? He might also enjoy our spare ice-cream.’

  Darby smiled and slipped his hand into hers.

  Brake jumped off mid-flight and appeared by her side. ‘I’m coming, too.’ Behind him, the empty swing continued to move.

  ‘Okay, I’ll finish my cone and then we’ll go.’

  Kree polished off her ice-cream with a speed Braye would have been proud of, and then held out her free hand to him.

  ‘Make sure we check for cars,’ she said as they stopped onto the roadside and looked both ways. She hadn’t seen more than four dusty vehicles pass along Glenalla’s main street. While she had both her fingers and toes crossed that her visitor centre plan would increase the traffic flow, she still was yet to think of a draw card that would put Glenalla on the tourist map.

  As they approached the Calf and Cow’s side door, Mikey appeared, his face beaming.

  ‘Hi, Mikey. I’m Kree. Would you like to come and play in the park with us?’

  The small boy’s tousled head bobbed as he jumped up and down.

  ‘Wonderful. Is your mum or dad there so I can ask them if it’s okay?’

  ‘Mikey only has a pop,’ Braye said as he pulled his hand free.

  ‘Is your mum or pop inside?’ Kree re-phrased.

  Mikey dashed away. The sound of his racing footsteps echoed along the long hallway that would lead to his living quarters behind the old pub. Kree gently placed a hand on Braye’s head. ‘Wait here, buddy. He’ll be back soon.’

  Mikey returned towing a young, red-haired woman wearing a snug, pink Calf and Cow shirt. There was no doubt this was Mikey’s mother. Freckles dusted the same pale skin as her son, and ginger lashes surrounded the same brown eyes. But whereas Mikey’s shone with excitement, caution clouded the young woman’s gaze. She quickly glanced past the boys and Kree as though searching for someone. On seeing it was only the three of them, her face broke into a smile.

  ‘Hi, I’m Jordy and you must be Kree.’

  ‘Yes, that’s me – the lady who talks weird.’ The boys all giggled. ‘I think I met your father, Bill, when he helped search for my brother?’

  ‘Yes, Bill’s my dad and Mikey’s pop. Although now he’s bald and grey, so it’s a little hard to pick the red-head connection.’ Jordy ruffled Mikey’s thick thatch of bright hair.

  Mikey moved away from his mother’s denim-clad legs to stand close beside Darby. Kree’s heart warmed as Darby said a soft, ‘Hi.’

  ‘Mikey said you and the boys would like him to come to the park?’

  ‘Yes, if it was all right with you? We have a spare ice-cream, if he isn’t allergic to dairy. I’ll take good care of him.’

  Instead of replying, Jordy surveyed the street. Indecision creased her brow.

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ Kree said. ‘Tish is shopping and we’re filling in time. I said I’d meet her at the car,’ Kree checked her watch, ‘in another fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Okay. It’ll do Mikey good to have a run with the boys. Just a sec, I’ll get him a hat and come, too, as my shift doesn’t start for half-an-hour.’

  With his cap firmly on, and holding his mother’s hand, Mikey followed Kree and the boys to the park. He didn’t take long to devour his soft ice-cream and climb off the bench to run over to the twins.

  Jordy watched him go, a mixture of pride and what Kree could only describe as pain, etched on her face. Kree guessed it was hard raising a son on her own while also keeping the pub going.

  ‘He’s a great kid,’ Kree said.

  ‘He is. He gives Dad and I both a reason to get out of bed every day.’ The younger woman’s voice lowered. ‘Thanks for asking him to play. He doesn’t get out much and he loves the twins, Darby in particular.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  Wherever Darby went, Mikey followed. Up and down the slide, on and off the swing and in and out of the wooden fort. Braye often tagged along or went off to do his own thing. Kree made sure she waved at him in case he felt left out. But his broad smile said all was well in his egocentric world.

  Jordy chuckled. ‘Mikey still has some growing to do. There are two years between him and the boys and his little legs have to work hard to keep up.’

  ‘I can imagine how tired he would be after playing with them, especially out at Marellen. The garden is huge.’

  Jordy took a second to reply. ‘Mikey doesn’t visit Marellen. He only plays with the twins when Ewan comes to visit Bill.’

  The young woman shifted forward on the seat and stared at her son with an almost desperate intensity.

  A noisy guttural ute cruised by. Sporting huge aerials and a sticker-covered tailgate, the driver honked the horn. Jordy lifted a hand. ‘The boys are home from the mines. I’d better make sure we’ve got some extra rooms ready.’

  ‘That must be good for business.’

  ‘It is. But it’s hard on the town having so many of the young blokes leave. If it isn’t the mines, it’s the city – and it’s not just the blokes, it’s the young girls, too. A whole generation moves away for work or education and then doesn’t return as they see no future here.’

  Kree looked across the park to where the sun warmed the stonework of the Cobb and Co. coach house. Her plan to give Glenalla a life-giving heart was falling into place. There now had to be a way of generating local employment so the mass exodus of the young to the city and mines would slow. In her hometown of Elk Falls, tourists were vital to the economy, creating cash flow as well as jobs.

  She turned to Jordy. ‘I’d love to see some of the local attractions or historical places while I’m in town. What can you recommend?’

  Jordy pursed her lips. ‘To be honest, there’s not much to see. The land around town is all farming.’ She inclined her head towards the coach house. ‘The coach house and our pub would be the most historically significant buildings. Marellen, then,
would be a further historical landmark and on the other side of town there’s Banora Downs and the burned out Killora Downs.’

  ‘So there are no old cabins or anything like that around?’

  ‘Not that I know of. But with Cobb and Co. running through here, there would have to be some smaller historic places people don’t know about. Sometimes in a paddock you can see what’s left of an old garden and the remains of a brick chimney. Anne, the local librarian, is the best person to talk to about Glenalla’s history.’

  Kree nodded, stifling a pang of disappointment. It was a long shot she’d locate the cabin from the sketch she’d found in her mother’s belongings. And an even longer shot she’d unlock the secrets to her mother’s childhood. She’d pay Anne a visit and show her the photocopy of the sketch, just in case she knew anything.

  Jordy continued, ‘A neighbouring town has an Elvis Festival in January that brings in tourists, but perhaps you won’t be here then? Dubbo has a world-renowned open-plan zoo that’s well worth visiting, but that’s about it for the area. Actually …’ She swivelled in her seat to look at the pub. ‘You know what you should see, that not many people know about?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Our murals.’

  Kree’s fingers closed over the back of the wooden bench as she, too, turned to stare at the pub. ‘Murals, as in large paintings?’

  ‘Yes. Huge paintings that cover entire walls and even ceilings. Before I was born a traveller stayed, and to pay for his board and lodging he painted the most beautiful landscapes. Most of the locals don’t even know they’re there, as Dad keeps that wing closed because we don’t have the guests to fill the beds.’

  Murals.

  Excitement bubbled through Kree’s veins. She knew how popular the murals were in the Denver International Airport and from an artist friend she’d heard about a Canadian town that’d turned their fortunes around by becoming known as the town of murals. She swung around to examine the buildings around the park in which the boys played. Wall upon wall of drab, lifeless bricks and mortar stood side-by-side. She smiled.