Talk of the Town

by Rachael Johns

  ‘Fine, fine. The girls all behaved, although I think they much prefer it when you’re around for milking. If only you had the same way with human ladies as you do with the Bovinae variety.’

  He shot her a don’t-start look and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. He didn’t usually drink pre-milking, but he decided to make an exception after his eventful afternoon. ‘Want one?’ he asked his sister.

  ‘Maybe later with dinner—I’ve made some salads to go with the barbie. Besides, beer doesn’t really go with ice-cream.’

  Ned hauled himself up on the edge of the bench and watched as Tab wedged the ice-cream container between the bench and her hip and then scooped out a generous serving of her latest creation into a bowl. Lawson dragged out one of the counter stools, plonked himself down and took a sip of his beer.

  ‘What flavour is it?’ Ned asked.

  Tab pushed the bowl towards him. ‘Guess!’

  Ned dug his spoon into the homemade ice-cream, lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply—he took his job as Tab’s chief taste-tester very seriously. ‘It looks like chocolate and it smells like chocolate, but there’s something else.’ He paused a moment, his brow furrowed like some kind of devout wine connoisseur. ‘Oranges!’

  Tab nodded at Ned’s victorious tone and then grinned at Lawson. ‘The kid’s got a gift. It’s a milk chocolate ice-cream but I melted some Terry’s chocolate oranges and made them into a fudge-like sauce, which I swirled through. What’s the verdict?’

  Ned licked his lips after the first mouthful. ‘Totally rad! Are you gunna sell this one at the farmer’s markets too?’

  ‘That’s the plan.’ While Ned got stuck into the rest of his ice-cream, Tab leaned against the bench. ‘So, tell me more about this mystery woman?’

  Lawson shrugged and caressed the cool bottle in his hands. ‘Not much to tell. She wasn’t very talkative.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Maybe twenty-four or twenty-five? I’m not great at guessing ages.’

  ‘So about my age. And what did she look like?’

  He felt heat rush to his cheeks as he recalled all too clearly how long and luscious her legs had looked in those tight denim shorts.

  ‘Oh my God. You’re blushing.’ Tab’s lips split into a massive grin. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before. She must be really something.’

  ‘Tabitha, please.’ Lawson rolled his eyes. ‘You need to get yourself a man and put all your romantic energies into him, because you’re delusional. If my cheeks are red, it’s because it’s damn hot outside and I’ve just been changing a bloody flat tyre in full sun.’

  ‘Okay. Whatever.’ Tab shrugged but didn’t stop smiling. ‘Speaking of hot women, you just missed Adeline.’

  ‘What was she doing here?’ He tried not to sound irritated but ever since he’d relented and gone to the CWA Belles Christmas Ball with her she’d been like one of her dogs with a bone. He’d told her they were just friends, but she seemed to think he was simply playing hard to get.

  ‘She wanted to talk about the P-U-P-P-I-E-S.’

  Ned giggled. ‘I can spell, Aunty Tab.’

  ‘Really?’ Tabitha placed her hand against her chest, feigning shock. ‘What are they teaching them at school these days? Next you’ll tell me you know your times tables or something?’

  In reply, Ned began reciting the seven times tables through a mouthful of ice-cream.

  Tab winked. ‘Impressive.’ Then she looked back to Lawson. ‘You do realise if you succumb and buy a puppy from her—however cute they are—you’ll never see the back of dear, sweet Adeline. She’ll use checking up on the mutt as an excuse to come over and visit whenever she pleases. As much as I want you to … you know …’ She pretended to ride a horse. ‘I’m not sure Adeline is the right one for …’

  ‘For what?’ Ned asked, looking from Tab to Lawson when her voice drifted off.

  ‘That’s why I’m not buying a puppy from her.’ He took another swig of his beer. Adeline was a nice chick and they’d been friends for a long time but he didn’t feel that way about her. He’d tried not to be downright rude but he couldn’t risk encouraging her either.

  ‘Besides, we’ve already got two dogs,’ piped up Ned. He glanced affectionately at their ancient Border Collie, Bonnie, as she slept—her legs in the air—on the kitchen floor. She’d been solely a working dog till a couple of years ago, but these days she spent more time indoors than out. Her son, Clyde, though, he was the best worker they’d ever had.

  ‘Damn straight we do.’ Lawson winked at Tab. ‘He’s wise beyond his years, this kid.’

  ‘He sure is.’ She beamed with pride at her nephew. ‘And I reckon you and I can take a little of the credit for that.’

  Tab was right. She’d hardly left their side since Leah’s death and had barely dated anyone in that time herself, although sometimes he thought this had as much to do with having lost her arm as it did he and Ned. It was all well and good her worrying about his love life, but what about hers? Since her illness it had been nonexistent, but she didn’t want to talk about it any more than he did.

  Absentmindedly, Lawson reached out to ruffle his son’s hair and looked over at the clock on the microwave. ‘Bloody hell, is that the time?’ He took one last slug of his beer and then put the still half-full bottle down on the bench. ‘I better head out and start helping Ethan bring in the cows. Ned? You gunna do the calves with Aunty Tab or come down to the dairy with me?’

  Ned looked from Lawson to Tab and back again. ‘I’ll help Aunty Tab. You have Ethan after all.’

  ‘That I do. See you both later.’

  He stomped down the hallway and outside. Clyde, who’d been napping on the verandah, sprang to life the moment the screen door opened and was halfway to the shed before Lawson had even pulled on his boots. He headed after the hyperactive but hardworking Collie and on his way met Ethan coming over from their worker’s cottage.

  ‘Hey, mate. Thanks for your extra work today. I appreciate it.’

  Ethan, an Irish guy who was the same age Lawson had been when he’d become a dad, waved his gratitude away. ‘No worries. Tab and I had it all under control.’

  Lawson stifled a smile. Ethan had a little crush on Tabitha, but at twenty-five, she thought a twenty-one-year-old far too immature. Without further conversation they prepped the rotary milking platform for the girls and then jumped on the quad bikes to encourage them all towards the dairy, with Clyde on the ground being his usual bossy self. Creatures of habit, the cows always headed towards the sheds at this time of the day, so it was really a matter of giving them a heave-ho, as they were, by nature, ladies of leisure.

  As soon as Lawson and Ethan had gathered the first lot in the pens, Ethan turned on the rotary. Most days he put the girls on and, after they’d been milked, Lawson got them off at the other end. They worked well together and Lawson hoped Ethan would stick around longer then their last worker had. He pushed the rest of the mob into the back of the pen and was in position to let the first cow off the rotary by the time they came around.

  He’d been working like this since he was younger than Ned. This was his life and he genuinely loved what he did, but it could also be monotonous, giving his mind a chance to drift off on the job. As he sprayed the udders with water before each cow disembarked the rotary, his thoughts wandered to meeting Meg that afternoon.

  When she’d stepped out of the old general store, he’d been almost as surprised as Ned to see a real live person standing there. If she weren’t wearing denim shorts, maybe he’d have thought she was a vision from a bygone era, one of the ghosts he’d been hearing about since he was a little kid. A few folks had still lived in the buildings on the main street back then; although apparently most of the shops had closed in the late seventies when a new highway was built that bypassed the town, so travellers and truckies heading south from Perth ceased stopping there. The pub had gone downhill thanks to dodgy owners, so people got out of the habit of going
there. At one stage it had actually been the pub with no beer. These days it was nothing but the dangerous skeleton of a building, since a fire had almost burned it to the ground one night in 1989.

  The general store had by then been losing business to the Foodland in Walsh, which was only a fifteen-minute drive away. But the town had well and truly breathed its last breath when the old store closed in the early nineties.

  It didn’t take much for a small rural community to die, especially when they were so close to bigger towns. Although there were farms in the region, the owners of those properties did their business in Walsh, Harvey or Bunbury, which was the nearest city. Rose Hill was known to locals as ‘the old ghost town’ and that’s why it had been so surprising to see Meg there, looking like she was settling in for the long haul. Again, he wondered about her story. About why a young, gorgeous woman like her would choose to live in such a lonely place. It was a mystery. On the one hand it shouldn’t be any concern of his why she’d chosen to live where she had, but he couldn’t help feeling a little anxious about the idea of a young, single woman living in such isolation.

  What if something happened? Not even something or someone sinister, but what if she broke her leg or got bitten by a snake? The fact that Crazy Archie was a few doors away did little to ease his worries. Not that he thought the old man dangerous, but rumour had it he was a bit of a drunk, so he might not be much help if disaster struck.

  The sound of Ethan shouting something at one of the cows in his thick Irish brogue snapped Lawson out of his reverie just in time. On autopilot, he’d been about to unhook the chain that was in place to indicate when a cow had a lot of milk and needed to go round the rotary another time. Dammit, he needed to stop his mind wandering off—if he’d let this girl out, she could have got mastitis. He sprayed water off the next few sets of udders and then had to climb up to encourage a cow who’d decided to sit down and was thus interrupting the flow of traffic through the pens.

  Clyde dashed in from the entry side of the pens and barked his disapproval at lazy Daisy, but it wasn’t easy for the old girl to haul herself up in such a tight space, with dozens of her ‘colleagues’ standing around her.

  ‘Halt the rotary. Cow down,’ Lawson called to Ethan as he prodded at the heifer. He and Clyde eventually got her up and the evening milking continued as usual, with Lawson reprimanding himself every time he started thinking about Meg again. He didn’t usually get hung up on things like this but he just hated the thought of something bad happening to her out there.

  ‘Coming for dinner?’ Lawson asked Ethan when they’d sent the last of the cows on her way and washed down the dairy.

  ‘That depends on who’s cooking,’ Ethan said as they yanked off their gum boots and replaced them with their normal farm boots. ‘You or Tab?’

  Lawson chuckled—it was a well-known fact that he wasn’t as gifted in the kitchen as his sister. ‘Well, Tab made some salads this arvo but I’ll probably wield the tongs over the barbie.’

  Ethan screwed up his nose. ‘No offence, boss, but you Aussie blokes literally burn meat. I’ll come if you’ll let me do the honours.’

  ‘No complaints here,’ Lawson said as he reached up and switched off the lights. The way his mind was right now, he could very well ruin the meat.

  Ethan’s ever-present grin grew wider. ‘Goodo!’ he said as they started towards the house, Clyde bounding ahead of them as usual.

  Ned and Tab had finished feeding the calves and were sitting out on the front verandah. The Tupperware bowls with the salads had been laid out onto the table and it looked like she’d also started the barbecue. Ned jumped the few steps off the verandah to greet Ethan.

  ‘Hey little dude.’ Ethan held up his hand for a high five. ‘I missed your face these last few days. And have you grown or have I shrunk?’

  Tab laughed. ‘That’s what I said too.’

  Ned followed Lawson and Ethan inside to wash up, talking the whole time about the mystery woman at Rose Hill. Lawson realised that even if he worked out how to get Meg out of his head, Ned probably wouldn’t let him forget until something else out of the ordinary happened.

  ‘Sounds like I might need to take a drive out to Rose Hill and welcome the new girl myself,’ Ethan said as he laid out the sausages and steak on the grill top.

  ‘Can I come with you?’ Ned shouted from the other end of the verandah where he was lying alongside Bonnie.

  Before Ethan could reply, Lawson said in a low voice so only he and Tab could hear, ‘I get the feeling she’s not too keen on visitors.’

  ‘Even more intriguing,’ Ethan mused.

  For some reason the thought of Ethan going out there and introducing himself to Meg irked Lawson. But what right did he have to feel such a thing? Maybe he’d been wrong about her? Maybe she did want to meet people. And wasn’t it the country way to make newcomers feel welcome?

  ‘Shall I get us some drinks?’ he asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  ‘You sure can, big bro.’ Tab smiled as she flopped down onto a seat at the outdoor table and propped her chin up with her good arm. ‘My work here is done.’

  Lawson retreated inside and returned a few moments later with three bottles of beer and a glass of milk for Ned. He handed round the drinks, pretended to supervise the cooking of the meat and then, once the steak and sausages were done to Ethan’s standard, the four of them sat down to enjoy dinner.

  Sitting back in his chair, Ethan lifted his beer in a toast to the view in front of them. ‘How’s the serenity?’

  They all laughed at the Irishman, who since coming to Australia to work had made it his mission to watch every classic Aussie film he could lay his hands on. Not only did he watch the movies, he quoted them whenever he could, never failing to make those around him smile. But right now, with the sun was setting over their pond, which, although dry at this time of year, still looked gorgeous with the backdrop of orange and purple sky, Lawson had to agree with his worker’s sentiment.

  His life might not have been a walk in the park but he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. While they ate, they talked about the new calves—Ned had already named the newborns. So far they’d been lucky this season and all births had been smooth sailing, but the springers were in the paddock closest to the house so they could keep an eye on them, know when they went into labour and intervene if necessary. Doctors and emergency services weren’t the only professions on call—a dairy farmer never clocked off either.

  Following dinner, Ethan and Tab offered to clean up while Lawson ushered a grumbling, I’m-not-tired Ned into the shower.

  ‘You might not be tired, mate,’ he said, ‘but I’m stuffed and I can’t go to bed until you do.’

  With a roll of his eyes, Ned showered, got into his summer PJs, brushed his teeth and then climbed into bed. Sure enough, two seconds after Lawson kissed him good night and stepped out of his bedroom, Ned called out. ‘Dad?’

  Here it comes … The request for a drink, another bedtime story, perhaps a song—sometimes the list was endless. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m scared.’ Ned was all bravado about being a big kid during the day, but his antics at night time reminded Lawson he was still just eight years old. The ghost talk had come back to haunt them.

  He inhaled deeply and walked back to his son’s bed. ‘What are you scared of?’

  ‘I thought I heard a noise. Maybe it was a ghost?’

  Lawson clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve never seen one.’

  Ned contemplated this for a few moments. ‘Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not real. You can’t see air but it’s there or we’d all be dead. And we can’t see Mum any more but you still say she’s up there looking down on us.’

  ‘True.’ Lawson’s eyes followed Ned’s finger as it directed him to the ceiling scattered with glow-in-the-
dark stars. Sadly, he didn’t really believe in anything like an afterlife and he definitely didn’t believe Leah or his own mum were watching them. It was a nice idea—something he’d told Ned when he’d come home from his first day at school sobbing about being the only kid in kindy without a mum. But it was in the same realm as fairy tales.

  Ned shuffled over and patted the tiny strip of mattress beside him. ‘Can you stay with me while I go to sleep? Please?’

  Lawson lay down next to him—both their heads could barely fit on Ned’s pillow and Lawson’s feet hung over the end of the single bed, but if he didn’t do as requested, Ned would take much longer to settle. And they did both need their sleep. It was early to bed and early to rise on a dairy and, for some reason, Lawson was more buggered tonight than usual.

  ‘Love you, Dad,’ Ned whispered as he snuggled into Lawson’s side.

  A lump rose in his throat. ‘I love you too, little man.’

  ‘I’m not so little any more. Ethan and Aunty Tab both said. And I’ll be ten next year.’ Considering it was January and Ned wasn’t nine until June, that was stretching things a little.

  Lawson smiled to himself. ‘So they did and so you will; now get some rest.’

  He put his arm over his son and tried to get comfortable. Comfortable or not, he’d likely end up falling asleep before Ned did, but he didn’t mind that much. And if Leah had still been alive, she’d have happily cuddled Ned to sleep. Lord knew she’d comforted Lawson on many an occasion. His eyes watered a little. Leah had been the most kind, caring and loving person on the planet. Her family had moved to town when he was in Year Ten. When she’d first sat down next to him in English, he’d been immediately attracted to her—what red-blooded adolescent male wouldn’t have been—but he hadn’t known how much he’d come to rely on her in the terrible months ahead. She’d helped him through the loss of his mother, and she’d been there for Tab too, when their dad was too lost in his own grief to know how to handle his children’s.