by Stacey Nash
Jase’s phone flew across the room, crashing into the wall, and fell to the carpet with a dull thud. ‘Christ! Jesus mother fu—’
‘Jason!’ Kate pushed her chair back and tried to raise her tiny self up to Jase’s height. ‘Your sister’s in the room.’
‘The fu—the bastard—Ardmax just pulled out. He’s heard about the closure.’
Hannah dropped into the chair her mother had vacated and pulled all the papers towards her. ‘Did he sign?’
Jase started pacing again. His hand dragged his hair off his forehead over and over as he lapped the kitchen table.
‘Well, did he?’ she asked again.
Jase didn’t reply, just kept walking. She looked at her mother, who shook her head. They were screwed. There’d be no exit penalty, and they’d be hard pressed to find another buyer willing to pay top dollar.
A jolly whistle wafted through the thick silence. Pop’s cheery stroll stalled right where Hannah had a moment ago. Keen eyes surveyed the damage. Jase glanced up at the family patriarch, cursed again, and plucked his phone from the floor.
‘What’s happening?’ the old man asked, his eyebrows twitching as he looked at each of them in turn.
‘It’s all good.’ Jase dropped into a chair, suddenly the image of composure.
Pop stared at Jase, waiting for the real answer. Her brother’s internal struggle played on his face. There was something about Pop’s stares that made you crumple and tell him everything. All three of them had failed this test as kids, and they still couldn’t stand up to it now.
‘We’re just trying to sort out these bales.’ Hannah tried to throw him off. The truth wasn’t worth the stress it would cause him. ‘The ones that are in the mill. They’re still stuck there.’
‘Right,’ Jase jumped on board. ‘Can’t get ’em out till the place opens up or the administrator releases them.’
It wasn’t that they wanted to lie to him, just that Pop’s continued good health trumped everything else. Hannah chanced a glance at Jase, but her brother hadn’t taken his eyes off Pop. Probably a good move.
‘Don’t you kids bullshit me.’ Pop pinned them each with a stronger glare. ‘I know there’s only one load behind those gates. It hurts. But that ain’t enough to make or break us. It’s sold already anyway.’
Hannah sighed, and Jase nudged her foot under the table. There was no way around this. They couldn’t lie to him any more than they could keep the horrid truth at bay.
‘Look, Pop,’ Hannah said, ‘We’ve got it under control, and we’ll make sure this season’s a bumper. We don’t want you worrying if next year’s harvest will make a profit or not.’
‘Next year. What about this year?’ Kate must have decided watching them blunder their way through handling the old man wasn’t working.
‘Well, if the gin doesn’t reopen then next year will be worse. Maybe cotton isn’t the best option for Burton Park. The Bourke gin just isn’t big enough to cope with the extra workload, and by the time we pay to transport it any further …’ This change of topic wasn’t going so well. ‘There go our profits.’
Pop scraped a gnarled hand across his weathered jaw. ‘You might have a point, my girl. It may be time to move away from cotton.’
‘What sort of bullshit idea is that?’ Jase pushed off his chair and circled the table with an even gait.
Kate plucked a green-A-logoed document from the table. ‘With Ardmax pulling out—’
Hannah shushed, but her mother barrelled on regardless.
‘We might not get a good price for this year’s crop. Then there’s all the modules rotting in the back paddock while we wait for the mill to reopen.’
‘Ardmax is out?’ Pop’s jaw clenched.
‘This is shit.’ Jase threw his arm up. ‘Cotton’s where it’s at, people.’
‘This is my farm,’ Pop reminded him.
‘And you made me and Hannah the managers!’ Jase shoved his chair under the table with so much force it rattled and almost tipped over. ‘We shouldn’t be talking about this. We should be focusing on selling what we’ve got.’
Pop rubbed at his chest. Hannah reminded herself to breathe as she watched the old man lean against the wall.
‘Pop,’ she chided, pulling out a chair. ‘Sit down and I’ll grab you a drink. We’ve got this. Jase and I’ll sort out what’s happening with Ardmax, okay?’
Shuffling back, he dropped into the chair, still massaging his chest. Hannah squeezed his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his weathered cheek, before retrieving his drink. Losing Ardmax was a big deal, but they couldn’t carry on like this in front of Pop.
Chapter 9
After finishing up a phone consult with a regular Wednesday client back home, Morgan strolled out of the community centre and down the stairs onto the main street. There wasn’t much movement around town; the road was quiet, and other than a few old ducks coming in and out of the supermarket, Mindalby’s main street was practically deserted. He extended his cramped arms into the air and stretched back and forth. All this deskwork was catching up with him. Plus, the conference call with Trinity this morning had been full on. He needed to get the townsfolk to take up his services or he’d be pulled back to the city and poor Mindalby would be left to fend for itself.
A grey Hilux screeched to a stop on the kerb. Morgan stood his ground, watching as the driver-side door flew open and a familiar face shot up to peer over the roof.
‘Morgan bloody Harris.’ Cooper Burton grinned from ear to ear. ‘The hell are you doing back here?’
‘Couldn’t stay away.’ Morgan beamed back at his old mate.
‘Can’t tell me you left all that tail in the city to slum it out here with the same old chicks we’ve known forever.’
‘We-e-e-ll—’ Morgan waggled his eyebrows, ‘—maybe.’
Cooper slammed a hand on the roof of his car. ‘Take me there. I beg you.’
Morgan laughed. ‘I’m here to help with the gin’s closing.’
‘Yeah?’ Cooper’s expression turned serious. ‘Shit, stuff that. You’re not with that administration mob, are you?’
‘Just providing emotional support, man.’
Cooper’s nose crinkled. ‘Like wallowing over a beer at the pub? We should do that.’
Another car approached, slowing and swerving as it neared Cooper’s dangerously open door.
‘With Jase,’ Cooper added.
‘That’d be great.’ Morgan hadn’t made that call to his mate yet. He wasn’t sure what was holding him back.
‘That sucker will always be in Mindalby. He lives and breathes the farmer’s life.’
‘He’s out on the farm, then?’
‘Yup. Built his own place down by the river. Just off the main driveway—’s not too lame. I gotta bolt, man. Job to be at.’ Cooper held a hand to his ear, finger and thumb extended to make a phone. ‘Call me. Same number.’
‘Will do.’ Morgan smiled as the younger Burton brother swung back down into his vehicle, slammed the door and sped off. Midday sun reflected on the Sparks Electrical signage adorning his tailgate. Morgan turned left and followed the footpath past the council chambers and across the lane, where he stopped outside Bread, Buns and Treats. It was great seeing all these independent businesses that dotted the main street. Everything was part of a franchise in the city, but this small business life was good for communities. Hopefully it wouldn’t collapse with the fall of Mindalby’s biggest employer.
He pushed through the front door, causing an overhead bell to jangle, yet that was the least obtrusive noise in the small bakery.
A professionally dressed woman spoke loudly to the shop assistant, while another lady listened on, throwing in her equally loud opinion.
‘Helen Bannister said it was like a scene from hell. The Ace in the Hole was full of people. They must have all been on edge, because from what I hear it turned into an all-out brawl. Chairs and tables got broken. A few of the burlier blokes trashed the place and according to my source
s, there was more than one black eye. Someone broke a wrist.’ She tutted. ‘I swear the whole town has turned violent this past week, Shar.’
‘Well, if the mill hadn’t closed its gates, Vera …’ Shar shifted, her hand resting on the laminate counter.
Vera peered over her shoulder, in the direction of the door. ‘And did you hear about young Asher? That girl deserves so much better.’
‘Hamish has been through a tough time.’ The bakery assistant’s expression hardened, her arms crossing over her chest as she glanced away from the other women and smiled at Morgan. ‘Hi there.’
‘Hey.’ Morgan stepped forward, surveying the shelves full of baked goods. The pies smelled delicious, but his appetite had vanished along with Mindalby’s harmony. ‘A ham salad roll, thanks.’
‘Sure, honey. Salt and pepper on that?’
‘Please.’
She moved along to the salad bar and proceeded to make his lunch, while the younger woman caught Vera’s attention. ‘Have you heard how Belinda’s doing, Vera?’
Vera shook her head and tutted once again. ‘Now that’s one girl who should have known better. Christopher Sharpe was bad news right from when he was in nappies. I can’t say I’m surprised that he’s turned into a wife basher.’
Shar—the assistant—placed the completed order on the counter and Morgan excused himself to sidle past Vera and the other woman in order to pay. He ought to leave a few business cards here. It sounded like Shar would know just where to pass them.
‘I’m running counselling sessions out of the community centre. Would it be okay to leave some cards here?’
‘Oh, I’ve heard about you. Of course.’ She smiled. ‘Just pop them on the counter.’
Morgan extracted his wallet and pulled out a stack of Banish Blue business cards, which he placed beside the napkin holder. ‘Great, thank you.’
Vera continued nattering on behind him, while Morgan took his lunch from Shar. Turning away from the incessant chatter, Morgan pushed open the front door, setting off the bell, and stepped through. The glass door swung back when he released it, slowly pulling itself in.
‘Who was that?’ Vera’s voice rose with curiosity, but the door snapped shut blocking any answer her companions might give.
Somewhere between the courthouse and the community hall Morgan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He juggled his sandwich into his left hand and plucked the device from his top pocket, using a thumb-swipe to answer.
‘This is Morgan Harris.’
‘Hi … I … umm.’ A lady’s voice quavered down the line. ‘Are you the crisis counsellor? I’d like to make an appointment.’
‘Sure. I have a spot later this afternoon, at two pm.’ Best to get her in before she baulked.
‘Great. I’m free then.’
‘I missed your name?’ Morgan prompted although she’d never told him.
‘It’s Courtney.’
‘Perfect. We’re operating out of the community centre on Burton Park Drive. There’s a small waiting room in the foyer. If you come there I’ll meet you.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you then.’ The line went dead and Morgan fist-pumped the air as he climbed the few steps into the community centre.
One roll and a whole hour later, Morgan walked out into the makeshift waiting room and spotted his client. She had her back turned, her short blonde hair the only clue as to whether it was someone he knew. He cleared his throat as he approached so as not to startle her.
Courtney spun around to face forward and upon seeing him, rose to her feet. He recognised her instantly, but her familiar features didn’t register an ounce of recognition in return. Morgan’s throat glued shut and he struggled to take that last step to welcome her. His brief stumble lasted a second before he extended his right hand, which she shook.
‘H—hi.’ She glanced at her feet.
Wrong, wrong. He was supposed to make her feel comfortable, not awkward as hell.
‘Morgan Harris.’ Surprisingly, her expression didn’t change, as though she didn’t recognise his name either. Morgan gestured to the door on their left down the corridor. ‘Just come this way, Courtney.’
Three years wasn’t that big a gap in such a small high school. She’d been young and timid back then, always hovering around the edge of conversations. Apparently she got knocked up by that loser, Andrew Clifton. If he’d married her then the ‘lesson’ he and Coop had taught him about how to treat women had paid off. If only the emotional debt Morgan had been left with wasn't so expensive.
‘Take a seat.’ Morgan forced the memories into the farthest corner of his mind and switched to work-mode. He grabbed his pre-prepared clipboard from the side table, swallowed against the thickness in his throat, and said, ‘I just need to grab a few details. Do you have any family in Mindalby, Courtney?’
‘Just Andy, my husband.’
It was true then. ‘And you live together.’
‘Yes.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘They don’t see me.’
He paused and looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
After a respectful moment had passed, he swallowed again and asked the one question he already knew the answer to. ‘And children?’
‘Just the one. Falcon. He’s five.’
He added the five-year-old to her family tree and sat back in his chair, his eyes locked on her as he offered up a warm smile. ‘And what brings you here today?’
‘I—ah—you see, Andy’s been in a bad place.’ She paused and Morgan nodded ever so subtly, his silence encouraging her to go on.
‘He won’t come to see you himself, but I’m so worried. It’s only been just over a week and he’s already angry. Falcon’s copying his daddy, dropping cuss words like a trooper. I’m worried Andy might be—he might be starting …’ Her eyes grew glassy and Morgan nudged the box of tissues.
Courtney visibly swallowed, closed her eyes for an extended moment, then said, ‘He’s suffered from depression. It got really bad before … well, before we managed to pull him out.’
‘That must have been scary for you. And what helped your husband get better?’
‘I don’t know, really,’ Courtney said. ‘One night he came home from the pub just as under the weather as usual, but when he woke the next morning things were different. He wasn’t happy, but he was living. He came right home after work, didn’t drink, and didn’t …’ She studied her fingers. ‘Slowly, he came back to me.’
Anger—hope—regret, all bled through Morgan one after another. He kept his feelings to himself. He was at work. Courtney was his client.
‘And just what has triggered Andrew’s recent mood?’
Her gaze snapped to his.
‘Andy …’ she frowned. ‘The factory closing. He’s worked there since the day he turned sixteen.’
‘That’s a while.’ Morgan fisted a hand under his chin and carefully neutralised his tone. ‘It must be hard for him. And for you.’
The rest of the session went to giving Courtney suggestions of how to help her husband through retraining, rethinking, and even setting up a business based on his current skills. It was small, but it was a start, and hopefully through changing his focus she would be able to help them both. The one thing Morgan didn’t tell her was that he knew Andy only too well. And men like that never changed.
Chapter 10
With Spud running ahead then looping back, Hannah walked the back paddock with Jase for what felt like the millionth time. They were overdue in tilling the soil in preparation for the next season of planting, and she was stalling. At uni she’d learned about alternating crops, genetically modified seeds, and new plants that were increasing in demand exponentially. There were better options on the cards for Burton Park than an industry complicated by closed gins and a slowly flooding market. Still, they were well into June, which meant it was time to act. If they didn’t, they’d miss the winter planting.
Jase slapped a hand onto the yellow pl
astic of a huge module. ‘Fricking dead money.’
‘Well …’ Hannah paused in their walk. ‘I made some enquires. The gin at Brisbane can process next week, if we can get there. If Bourke’s got a backlog maybe sucking up the transport cost of sending them farther just to break even is worthwhile.’ She picked up her pace, keeping step with her brother. ‘The longer it sits here the less chance we’ll have of reselling at a decent price.’
‘Geez, I know that.’ Jase slammed his hand against another module as they walked, running his fingers over the joins in the plastic. Quality control, Hannah called it. They’d made a habit of the practice since things with the mill went south. She wasn’t the only one worried this harvest would rot in the field.
‘Any luck with a new buyer?’
‘Alright,’ Jase said, ignoring her question. ‘We’ll go with Brissie.’
‘Hey. This is your show just as much as it’s mine. We both make the call, and …’ She stopped walking, forcing him to turn back and face her. ‘Maybe, if you put the word out, we can secure a buyer that’ll ship out of Queensland instead of down south to make the deal sweeter.’
Jase turned around, his face split with a smile. ‘Good thinking, partner.’
Spud plopped onto the ground, panting while they walked along the rest of the modules, checking for any signs of dampness or vermin, but the cotton seemed clean, thankfully. She’d studied soil science and farm diversity just last year. Honestly, the long-term outcome of switching crops to something in higher demand with less sales competition had its merits. She thought about the type of soil on their land and the western plains climate in which Mindalby sat. Hannah examined the opportunity from every angle, her mind ticking with each step back to the quad bikes she and Jase had ridden here. As her brother threw his leg over the four-wheeler, Hannah finally braved what she’d been meaning to tell him for a week. ‘Morgan’s in town. I’ve run into him a few times now and he’s doing great. He looks pretty good, too.’
