Second Time Sweeter

by Ros Baxter

  Of course, she considered, you’d still get to do the whole gamut of animal husbandry, which was the really satisfying part of farming, but there was something about the connection between you and the cow when you were milking that was special. Her mother told her it had been even more intimate in the old days, when everything was done by hand, and she could imagine that. Cows were social, they formed bonds, and she definitely had bonds with many of her darlings.

  Lost in her reverie, she was surprised when KD and Barry were suddenly standing in front of her. KD clicked her fingers in front of her face as the last cow made its way out of the parlour. ‘One sleep-in and you’re off with the fairies.’ She laughed.

  ‘All done, Gen Jen?’ Larry smiled shyly at her. He was a tall boy, gangling and sweet, with a spotty face and deep brown eyes. Gen had made sure his parents knew what a wonderful employee he was. They had taken on the post office when they’d given up the farm, and Gen sensed things were pretty tight in the Sider household. ‘Only I have band practice before school today.’

  Gen smiled at him. ‘How’s the sax going?’

  He shrugged and blushed a little. ‘Workin’ on it,’ he mumbled, waving at KD and exiting quickly.

  KD laughed. ‘He told me today he’s never met a lesbian before.’

  Gen rolled her eyes. ‘How did that come up?’

  ‘He was talking to me about girls.’

  ‘Really?’ Gen found it hard to imagine Larry talking about girls with anyone, let alone someone he only knew from the odd shared milking.

  ‘Music.’ KD smiled. ‘We bonded over our shared love of Vance Joy.’

  Of course. KD was in indie music sales, and she had her finger on the pulse.

  KD continued, ‘He doesn’t talk much, but he did ask me how someone should go about asking a girl to the end-of-year formal.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’ Gen took in KD, angel-beautiful even in the ugly green overalls.

  ‘I told him how I did it back in senior.’

  Gen groaned, remembering KD’s grand coming-out statement. ‘Man, the shit sure did hit the fan that day,’ she recalled. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘You know,’ KD said, stripping off the overalls and throwing an arm around Gen’s shoulders as they made their way out of the parlour, activating the spraying machines as they went, ‘I think he was kind of impressed with my balls.’

  ‘More than Mr Morrissey was,’ Gen said, shuddering as she recalled the principal’s face when Gen and Brodie had walked in to the leagues club with KD and Myra. Myra and her family were from Sydney, and in town for the year while her father ran a land release nearby. KD and Myra had been wearing matching black and white pantsuits, KD Lang-style, and holding hands. From that day on, Kasey Delorio was out and proud, and the whole town called her KD.

  ‘Come on,’ KD said, flicking off the lights. ‘I want you to show me what’s new with your baby.’

  Gen led KD around the back of the sheds to the space she called The Creamery. It was really only a converted shed, but it had taken her a couple of years to fit it out the way she needed it. Now there was all the right equipment—commercial refrigeration, stainless steel benches, and large-capacity strainers and blenders. It was still very much a small-scale outfit, but it worked for her purposes right now.

  KD whistled and rubbed her hands together. ‘It’s looking good. What can I try? What’s new, baby?’

  Gen opened one of the fridges and tried to decide where to start. She held the door open speculatively. ‘Here. You’re going to love this yoghurt.’ She pulled out a big plastic tub. ‘It’s brekky time, and I’m sure you didn’t eat before you went down to milk. Even though—’ She shot KD a scolding look, ‘—I always tell you how important it is.’

  KD saluted her smartly. ‘Enough lecturing. My mouth is watering. Come on, Gen.’

  Gen prised open the top. ‘I’m experimenting with some of the natural tastes of the area.’ She pulled a small bowl out from a shelf under the bench. ‘This one is fig and lemon myrtle.’

  KD licked her lips as Gen located a spoon. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it over and waiting to see how it landed. This bit always made her nervous. She knew enough now to know the stuff was good. She’d studied hard—straining techniques, flavour combinations. She’d borrowed from celebrity chefs and ice cream makers, Country Women’s Association yearbooks, and even her own grandmother’s handed-down recipe books. It was really all about trial and error. There was no guarantee that a flavour you thought would be wonderful would turn out that way, or marry well with the things you teamed it with. But this one? She was almost positive it was something special.

  Either way, KD would let her know.

  Her best friend’s eyes rolled back in her head as she licked the spoon. ‘Holy shit,’ she groaned, digging it into the little bowl again. ‘This is incredible, Gen.’ She stared at the ceiling, as if she was looking for the right words. ‘It’s something about the creaminess with the tang, and then the stewy gooeyness of the fig.’ She dug in again. ‘Did your mum stew those?’

  Gen nodded, feeling sad as she wondered how much longer her mother would be able to help at all.

  KD scraped the bowl and held it out to Gen. ‘Please, sir,’ she said, blinking her eyes like a sad puppy, ‘may I have some more?’

  Gen laughed. ‘So you like it?’

  ‘Like it? I freakin’ love it.’ KD’s eyes widened as Gen gave her a generous top-up. ‘Honey, we so need to get this certification and the co-op sorted.’ She licked the spoon again. ‘The world needs to know about this.’

  Gen pulled herself out a bowl and served up some yoghurt of her own, digging in. It really did taste amazing.

  ‘What are you going to call it?’

  Gen frowned. ‘The products?’

  KD nodded.

  The name Gen had been thinking about settled in her heart as she spoke it aloud for the first time. ‘Sweetiepie Sarah,’ she said. ‘After Mum.’

  ‘Perfect,’ KD said.

  Chapter Three

  Compromises

  ‘Fuck an ugly duck,’ KD breathed, eyeing the visitors trudging up the long drive while she sipped her tea. ‘Where’s your shotgun, Sarah?’

  Gen’s mum pulled her blanket awkwardly over her knees and scowled down the drive. It was getting harder and harder for her to walk reliably, but hardly anyone knew just how bad things were getting. Sarah was proud; she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s invalid. Folks just thought she was having a bad run. Genevieve reached over and pulled the blankets a little higher, so they covered Sarah’s hands and arms. Sarah crossed her arms under the blanket, a gesture Gen knew to be about maintaining her dignity, making sure she wouldn’t give herself away.

  Gen stood up, wondering why she felt like an arthritic old lady, and feeling the familiar bite of fear, the fear that still persisted even now she knew she was okay. Maybe it was just the presentiment of how tough this conversation was going to be.

  She spread her arms in greeting, but didn’t descend the porch stairs like you usually did with guests. ‘Well this is a nice surprise,’ she said to the new arrivals, tasting the lie turn to chalk in her mouth before she turned to the small children playing with plastic farm animals on the porch at the women’s feet. ‘Head inside and get dressed, babes. I’ve got to get you guys to school soon.’

  A low whine of protest started from two pretty little pouts, but she silenced them with a ‘zzzttt’ and a zipper movement across her mouth. ‘You don’t want to miss assembly.’

  ‘Hell no,’ Will moaned, scuttling to his feet. ‘Mrs Sticklen would have my arse.’ He said the last three words so emphatically Gen almost laughed.

  Instead, she turned to KD. ‘No music industry language around the organic cherubs thanks, toots,’ she scolded her, before turning back to scold her son. She kneeled down in front of him. A year ago she might have yelled and sent him to his room. Things were different now. She pointed up at her mother. ‘You know how old I was when Grandma
first washed my mouth out with soap?’

  Will shook his head gravely.

  ‘About your age,’ she said, shaking her head. She looked up at her mother for confirmation and Sarah nodded in an accommodatingly gruff kind of way. Gen went on, her voice low as the visitors made their way up the stairs. ‘It tastes really bad. And I really don’t want to do it to you, okay?’

  ‘Me neither,’ he agreed quickly.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ruffling his hair. ‘No more arse. Or hell. Go get ready for school.’

  Will nodded and exited quickly, looking like a man who’d made an unexpected escape. As he hit the kitchen door, he turned back to look at the visitors and screamed into the house at his sister. ‘We better hustle, Bea. It’s the Old Cow and that wanker banker, so Mum’s gonna be on the warpath.’

  Gen wondered if she should feel embarrassed as Devina Devondish and Barry Townsend stood on her front stoop, faces matching masks of outrage as they stared into the house.

  Nah, fuck it. Gen was perfectly woman enough to brazen this one out.

  ‘Terrible the things they hear at school these days,’ she clucked, sitting down and gesturing to the spare chairs on the veranda.

  Davina recovered first. ‘Indeed it is,’ she said, settling herself down and shaking her head quickly as Gen offered her the teapot.

  She may have suspected it was poisoned.

  Barry took Davina’s lead, sitting down on the loveseat next to the little cluster of chairs and motioning no to tea also.

  Gen took up where she had started before the intervention of all the childish profanity. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  Davina was a good-looking woman, closer to fifty than forty, with dark reddish-brown hair, full cheeks, dark brown eyes, dimples, and an ample frame that spoke of good food and good times. She was wearing a vibrant purple pantsuit that showed off her exotic colouring well, and authentic-looking black cowboy dress boots. Long silver gypsy earrings hung from tiny ears, and a smile the size of Texas lit up her face. She looked as if she was stopping by to share a cuppa and chew the fat. It was a shame she was a monstrous corporate robot, or Gen had always suspected they could be friends.

  Davina motioned to KD and Sarah. ‘I was wondering if you might prefer to speak alone, Genevieve?’

  Gen smiled. ‘Nothing I can’t say in front of these two. One way or another, they’re gonna be picking up the pieces.’

  Barry coughed. ‘It don’t need to be like that, Gen Jen.’

  Sarah scowled at him and made a growling noise.

  KD jumped in. ‘Keep quiet while the grown-ups are doing business, Barry Townsend.’

  Gen turned to Barry. ‘Why are you here, Barry? I would have thought my business with the bank was private.’

  ‘Of course, Gen,’ Barry stammered. ‘I’m here with Devondish. Our interests are …’ He tried to smile but came off looking constipated. ‘… aligned,’ he finished lamely.

  Barry turned red and started to swing himself awkwardly on the loveseat, using one foot against the timber veranda. The seat made an awkward groaning squeak as he did it, and he hurried to stop it as Davina drilled him with a fierce look.

  Davina spread her hands. ‘I’m just callin’ by to check in, honey. I know things have been tough ’round here, since we all went our separate ways.’

  ‘You make it sound like an amicable divorce, Davina,’ Gen said, her face hurting with the effort of smiling. ‘In my experience, there aren’t many of them. Someone always wants something the other one isn’t prepared to give.’

  KD snickered into her tea.

  Davina clucked her tongue. ‘Well, now, I know things got a little … heated … in the last round of negotiations.’ She smiled as if she were talking about a kids’ soccer game. ‘But I just can’t help feel that there’s something special about this valley.’ She sighed, breathing in deeply and looking out over the green pastures that spread below the house.

  Gen had to admit, it did look like a shot from the back of a milk carton. Lovely caramel-brown cows dotted the forward pastures. The recent rains had made the fields lush and green. And the rolling hills created the kind of glades that made Bea sure fairies lurked in the shadows of Greenacres.

  Davina sighed again. ‘I’m having a hard time accepting we can’t reach an agreement.’

  Gen crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Your last terms didn’t make me feel so special,’ she said, feigning a pout. ‘They made me feel kinda …’ She clicked her fingers, as if she was looking for the word. ‘Kinda cheap.’

  KD tutted from a chair. ‘No girl likes to feel like that.’

  Davina nodded, as if she was agreeing. ‘I think we may have got off on the wrong foot, Genevieve. I’ve been hearing wonderful things about your yoghurt.’

  Shards of information and local gossip started to slot together in Gen’s brain. Devondish had been getting some heat from the ACCC for restraint of trade practices with smaller players. Was this some attempt to make nice with Sweet Pocket to assuage their flagging reputation? Dairy was different from other agriculture. People liked to feel as if they were drinking milk and eating cheese from a wholesome family enterprise. Happiness mattered.

  Gen sipped her tea and watched Davina carefully. ‘So you want to try to renegotiate new terms with the DB?’ The local Dairy Board had worked hard to try to keep the milk flowing to Devondish. In the end, it had been impossible without selling their heritage down the toilet, and screwing all their livelihoods into the bargain.

  ‘Ah.’ Davina smiled. ‘Well, I’m not sure we need to involve the whole town in any … preliminary discussions … you and I may have.’ She looked out at the fields again and breathed deeply. ‘After all, there’s special, and then there’s special.’ She shot Gen a look that said she was the most special of all.

  Gen laughed. ‘You are so kind, Davina,’ she said, following her eyes across the near pastures, watching the milkers grazing contentedly on the sweet grass. ‘I’d just love to hear what you have in mind.’

  Barry started swinging the loveseat again, his eyes glued to Davina who was this time unconscious of the demented squeaking.

  ***

  ‘You can’t be seriously contemplating getting into bed with that witch?’ KD picked up a small flat stone from the driveway and threw it hard in the direction of Davina’s retreating limo.

  ‘Of course not,’ Gen hissed. ‘I’m not stupid. I didn’t stand a chance against the Big Cow when I stood with the town; I’d be totally screwed without them.’ She looked up at Sarah on the veranda and her heart squeezed painfully. Her mother looked so much older than her forty-five years, and it hurt so badly sometimes that it made tears prick the back of Gen’s eyes just to look at her. ‘No. I’m more and more convinced you’re right. The town has got to go solo. Somehow.’

  ‘Not somehow,’ KD said, as they turned to walk back to the veranda. ‘Certification, and a cooperative. It’s do-able.’

  Gen thought about Barry—his oily smile as he and Davina had taken their leave, and how he had urged her to ‘think about what was on offer’. ‘Not unless I get the bank off my case.’

  KD nodded, and wrapped an arm around Gen’s shoulders. ‘What’s the plan there?’

  ‘I gotta go make an honest woman out of myself,’ Gen said, climbing the stairs. ‘Let’s go see your folks.’

  ***

  Brodie heard voices when he got out of the shower, and wondered who was calling on Nelly so early. He dried himself lightly, wrapped a towel around his middle and stepped out of the bathroom into the hall to listen.

  Nelly sounded pissed. ‘If it’s all the same with you, Davina, my answer stands.’ She snorted theatrically. ‘Although your now even lesser offer is mighty appealing, of course.’

  ‘You understand how this works, Nell,’ the other voice said warmly. ‘It’s just business. Course I’m not gonna offer as much as I did last time; it’s basic economics. You need me more now.’

  ‘I don’t need shit,’ Nelly
returned.

  A third voice, breathy and male, joined in as Brodie turned to his bedroom to throw on some jeans and offer Nelly a little moral support. ‘No need for profanity, Nelly.’

  A switch flicked in Brodie’s brain as he stalked down to the kitchen, clicking him over into pure fury.

  ‘It’s Mrs Brown to you, Barry,’ he snarled, working hard not to stride over and relieve that little shit of his head. The banks had always been fair-weather friends of the farmers in this community. He knew that better than anyone, what with how they’d sold-out his parents. ‘And what the hell are you two doing calling on an old lady at his time of day? You got an appointment?’

  Three sets of eyes blinked at Brodie from the kitchen table, and he was suddenly conscious of his semi-nudity. Davina looked particularly impressed, her eyes widening as she took in his naked chest.

  ‘Not so much of the old lady,’ Nelly retorted, rolling her eyes at him. ‘And we’d love you to join us, I’m sure, once you get some clothes on.’

  Brodie ambled over to the coffee pot and poured himself a leisurely cup. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll stay right where I am, if it’s all the same with you, Aunty Nell.’ He never called her that, but he wanted to make sure they remembered whom they were messing with. He motioned to Davina, smiling warmly at her over the pot. ‘Can I offer you something to help make your early-morning raiding party a little easier to swallow, Ms D?’

  Davina didn’t miss a beat. ‘Why, no thank you, Mr Brown. I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the view.’ She made a circling motion in the direction of his chest. ‘No wonder they call you the Crop King these days. Looking mighty regal there.’