Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  The bed’s dull knobs shone cold in the morning light. Kim shivered, pulled the blankets tight around her and tried to guess the time. The room’s diffuse brightness offered no clue. Still wearing Connor’s coat, she threw back the covers, stood at the window and opened the curtains. No wonder she couldn’t judge the hour. The world was blank, swathed in a fog that had crept down the mountain overnight.

  Kim padded down the hall in bare feet, checking on the children as she passed their doors. Both fast asleep. She went to the kitchen, turned on the little bar heater and warmed her toes. The hot water system should have heated up by now. How she’d love a shower. But when she turned on the hot tap at the sink, the water was icy. She let it run and run. No use. She checked the meter box. Something had tripped the hot water switch. She turned it back on, but her shower was history. It was an off-peak system. There wouldn’t be any hot water until tomorrow morning, when they’d be long gone.

  Kim put on two pairs of socks, and her old gumboots, after giving them a shake to dislodge spiders. She made a face at her reflection in the window. What a sight: snarled hair, a way-too-big man’s coat over fleecy pink pyjamas, and rubber boots. One of the beauties of country living, of course, was that nobody for miles would see or care.

  She opened the door and froze. Ben stood there, hand raised, ready to knock. He was making a habit of catching her off guard. No cricket whites today. Instead he wore jeans and a smoky-blue, open-necked shirt that matched his eyes. She must have looked ridiculous, and his handsome face creased into a grin. ‘Love the fashion. Is that what you call Sydney chic?’ For the second time in twenty-four hours he made the blood rush to her cheeks, but this time she was too surprised to hide it.

  ‘I thought you were coming at nine o’clock?’

  ‘It is nine o’clock. I brought Taj with me, as promised.’

  Taj? A familiar figure stepped out of the mist. ‘We’ve already met,’ he said.

  Kim nodded an acknowledgement. ‘Taj helped me when I ran into some car trouble on our first day here.’

  ‘Did he just?’ Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Told you he was handy. Now, are you going to ask us in? I’d kill for a coffee.’

  She stepped aside and the men walked through to the kitchen.

  Ben pointed out a mould patch on the ceiling, while she filled the kettle. Such a contrast between the two of them, one as dark as the other was fair. Taj’s unruly black hair fell across his forehead. Ben’s hair was the colour of wheat and just long enough to be fashionably tousled. Taj’s skin had darkened in the sun to a warm shade of mahogany. Ben was tanned too, but his fair complexion had turned pale coppery-brown. Taj’s expression was guarded, his eyes watchful like a hawk. Ben’s features were as open and sunny as a summer’s day. Taj seemed shy, while Ben wore his self-confidence like a badge.

  Yet they shared some things. Both roughly her age, around thirty. Tall, well-built and, Kim couldn’t help but notice, both heart-stoppingly handsome in their own way. She hadn’t seen it when she’d first met Taj. She’d been too unsure of him. But here in the comfort and security of her own kitchen, she made a more objective assessment. The open-necked work shirt, taut over a muscled torso, revealing the tip of a tattoo on his chest. She couldn’t make it out. The sun-beaten column of his neck. The square, stubbled jaw and even features. Very attractive, if you liked the tall, dark and brooding type. The scar down his cheek still bothered her. So did his eyes, which were the all-seeing kind, peering from under a broad-brimmed hat that had seen better days. Ben was more her type.

  This last thought left Kim a little shocked. Whatever had possessed her? Comparing two men physically, thinking about them in that way? It was an insult to Connor’s memory. ‘Coffee’s ready.’

  Ben splashed extra milk in his cup and added a heaped teaspoon of sugar. Taj took his strong and black. ‘I’ll show you what needs doing, mate. Just the bare minimum – a cosmetic job. And get rid of that old kitchen table. It takes up too much space; makes the room look smaller than it is.’

  Get rid of the table? Connor had made that. Its solid, rustic beauty made the kitchen the heart of their home. This wasn’t quite how she’d imagined things would work. ‘I’m prepared to pay to get the house properly sale-ready,’ she said. ‘I want to pass it on in good condition.’

  Ben flashed her a smile that would level mountains. ‘We’ll do basic repairs, of course, and give it a new coat of paint. But we don’t want to overcapitalise. No point throwing good money after bad.’

  ‘When my husband inherited this place from his grandfather, it was a dream come true for us both. I love Journey’s End, and want to do it justice.’

  Taj stepped forward and fixed his unsettling brown eyes on her. ‘Why are you selling then?’

  Kim bristled. It was none of his business. She weighed up her words, and settled on a tried and true phrase guaranteed to close down the conversation. ‘My husband is dead.’ She waited for the customary response – the embarrassment, the lowered eyes, the muttered apology.

  Taj’s gaze remained unflinching. ‘But you are not.’

  Kim swallowed something jagged.

  ‘Steady on, mate,’ said Ben. ‘Mind your manners.’

  Kim walked out. How dare he? She went to her room and sat on the bed for a few minutes, until her breath came evenly again. Then she dressed in jumper and jeans, pulled a comb through her hair, and went back to the kitchen.

  Abbey had appeared there in her absence. She sat at the table in her puppy-dog nightie, clutching Percy. ‘Look, Mum. The man from the forest.’

  Taj was staring at Abbey. Did she really want this insolent stranger to have the run of her house while she was gone?

  Ben stepped forward, took gentle hold of Kim’s elbow and steered her into the lounge room. ‘Cut Taj a bit of slack. He doesn’t speak the language too well. Probably didn’t even know he was being rude.’

  Really? He seemed perfectly fluent in English to her.

  ‘I’m telling you, tradesman are hard to come by in Tingo, and you won’t find a better one.’ Kim wasn’t convinced. ‘I can finish the walk-through on my own if you like?’ said Ben.

  For a moment she was tempted. ‘No, I’ll come.’

  She followed them from room to room while Ben indicated what work he wanted done. Taj jotted notes down in an exercise book. Abbey trailed after them, clutching Percy. ‘That loose floorboard needs a nail,’ said Ben. ‘This window doesn’t shut properly . . . That wardrobe could use new doorknobs . . . Replace those splashback tiles, and the chipped ones in the bathroom.’ Ben had the quick-fix down pat. He made decisions without hesitation. He was sure of himself. Connor had been like that – a take-charge kind of guy. Even when on deployment, he’d tried hard to stay connected and look after things at home. He’d managed their finances, made sure the cars and house were well-maintained. He even planned their holidays long-distance. Kim loved that about him. It made her feel cared for, cherished. She’d floundered in the last two years, unsure in her new role as the family’s unilateral decision-maker.

  A welcome relief then, leaving the arrangements to Ben, letting somebody else take responsibility. A way to un-invest in the farmhouse, to make the sale easier, both practically and emotionally.

  Ben moved to the hall. ‘Strip that wallpaper.’

  Why? It wasn’t old, and it had taken forever to find the design – a stunning botanical print. She and Connor had hung it together that last summer.

  ‘Replace the back door. A cheap hollow-core one will do.’

  What was wrong with the door? True, it was crudely made with stout hardwood planks and an old-fashioned lever-handle latch. You could see daylight through the cracks. Yet it had character, it was solid and safe. An intruder would take all day to kick that thing in. Most importantly, Connor had recorded Abbey’s and Jake’s heights on it in lead pencil. Kim touched their names with her finger, and the smudged measuring marks as well, marvelling at how small the children had been a few short years ago. Abbey
stood next to it to show how much she’d grown. Kim’s heart melted. If that door went, it would go back to Sydney with her, along with the table. Heaven knows where she’d fit them in their little townhouse.

  When Ben told Taj to paint over the mural in the bedroom, Abbey turned goggle-eyed in horror. She tugged at her mother’s shirt.

  ‘That painting stays.’

  ‘Buyers want a blank canvas,’ said Ben, examining the window frame.

  ‘Well, they can’t have one.’

  He turned around, hands on hips, looking totally nonplussed. Taj’s serious mouth curved into an amused smile. It softened his features, took some of the wildness away.

  ‘Ben . . . I appreciate your help, but I want to go through the rest of the repairs with Taj myself.’

  Jake ran in. His eyes lit up when he saw Ben. ‘Did you win the match yesterday?’

  ‘Sure did, champ.’

  ‘Did you take any wickets?’

  ‘I took the one that counted. Bowled their tail-ender out with a few runs to spare. Shame our juniors had to forfeit though. We couldn’t round up a full side.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Jake, ‘we should move here. We’ve already got a house. I could join the team to help them make up the numbers.’

  His enthusiasm came as a surprise, considering how determined he’d been not to come in the first place. ‘Have you forgotten there’s no internet?’ said Kim. ‘How would you download your Plants vs. Zombies updates?’

  Jake looked skyward and rolled his eyes. ‘Mum . . . that’s kid’s stuff. I’m getting my tomahawk so Ben can sharpen it.’ He raced from the room.

  ‘Might as well go give the kid a hand then,’ said Ben. ‘If you’re sure you don’t need me here? Right, I’ll leave you guys to it. But remember – a clean slate for the buyers, that’s what you’re after.’

  Kim was beginning to resent these nameless buyers.

  ‘Do you want me to paint this bedroom?’ asked Taj.

  Kim examined the mural on the wall more closely and saw things she’d never noticed before. A tiny kingfisher on a branch. A possum curled up in a tree hollow. A dingo above the waterfall, staring down at Scout and Percy.

  ‘No, I want you to leave it like it is. And leave the wallpaper in the hall as well.’

  ‘Yay,’ said Abbey. ‘That wallpaper’s pretty. Do you like it, Taj?’

  He went into the hall and took a look. ‘I like it very much,’ he said. ‘Silver banksias are lovely flowers.’

  It surprised Kim that he recognised them. They moved into the kitchen. ‘The back door stays,’ she said. ‘I don’t know about the curtains.’

  Taj checked his notes. ‘Ben said to take them down and put up a neutral blind.’

  ‘I know,’ said Kim. ‘But this isn’t Ben’s house. It’s mine. The curtains stay too.’

  Taj bowed his head in that oddly formal way he had, a flicker of amusement behind his eyes. He picked up the botany book propped open on the bench. She carefully took it from him. ‘That’s a ravine orchid,’ she said. ‘I always hoped to find one here, but it never happened.’

  ‘I have seen this plant,’ said Taj.

  Kim shook her head. ‘You might mean the orange blossom orchid. It’s similar and grows all up and down these eastern ranges.’

  ‘It is this one, I’m sure.’

  Curiosity got the better of her. ‘Where?’

  ‘Not far. I can show you.’

  Abbey grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, Mum. Let’s go.’

  Was this possible? Kim studied Taj’s face, inscrutable behind a three-day growth. The odds were against it, and she didn’t fancy traipsing around the bush on a wild-goose chase with this man. Her fingers released Abbey’s. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We have to head back to Sydney. When will you start on the repairs, Taj?’

  ‘Not straightaway.’

  ‘When exactly?’

  Taj’s expression was apologetic. ‘I’m not sure – some weeks.’

  Bloody hell. It meant waiting to put the place on the market. She wanted to get the emotional wrench over and done with. Ben came in as Taj was leaving.

  ‘He can’t start yet,’ said Kim.

  Ben shrugged. ‘I never said he could. Tradies always have jobs on.’

  ‘Can’t we get somebody else?’

  ‘Nobody as good as Taj.’

  Jake ran in, brandishing the tomahawk, a devilish glint in his eye. ‘Ben says it’s sharp enough to shave with.’

  ‘Just a figure of speech, champ. Don’t you go trying.’

  ‘Take that thing outside,’ said Kim.

  Jake pointed a defiant chin at her. ‘You can’t make me.’ She reached to take the tomahawk from him. He brandished it at her briefly then hid it behind his back.

  Ben frowned and snapped his fingers. ‘That’s enough. Apologise to your mother.’

  Abbey ran outside. She hated arguments.

  Jake seemed torn. He looked from Kim to Ben, and then back to Kim. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Ben nodded his satisfaction. ‘Now do as you’re told. Take the tomahawk outside.’ Jake obeyed without a murmur. Kim threw Ben an admiring glance. How on earth had he managed that?

  ‘He’s a great kid,’ said Ben. ‘Anyway, better be off. I’ll ring you when we’re ready to get on with the business of selling.’ He shook her hand, holding it a fraction longer than necessary, then strode out the door with a lanky grace. Kim drew back the curtains and watched his LandCruiser reverse from its parking place by the woodshed, and make its way down the rutted driveway. Jake ran after it, waving. Kim stayed at the window long after the car had disappeared from sight.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ Abbey waited a while for a response. ‘I’m going to look for caterpillars,’ she said at last, leaving Kim in peace.

  Jake needed a strong male role model like Ben. Apart from Daisy’s husband, Steve, he had nobody back in Sydney. No uncles. No male teachers, not once, all through primary school. Connor’s father was dead and her own father wasn’t good with Jake. He lost patience too easily and the two of them always ended up at loggerheads.

  Kim’s fingers found her wedding ring. Rubbing it wouldn’t help. It wasn’t Aladdin’s lamp. She dug her nails into her palm. When was she going to stop wishing for the impossible? Connor was gone. He’d never be there for her or Jake again. Never be there for Abbey.

  Kim turned and hurried to Abbey’s bedroom, throwing things into the bag higgledy-piggledy, averting her eyes from the mural on the wall. What was the point of saving it? New owners would just paint over it anyway.

  New owners.

  She tried to imagine strangers in the room and couldn’t. This house had been in Connor’s family for generations. She choked back tears and went to pack up Jake’s room. The guilt and grief were too much. She couldn’t bear to be there a moment longer.

  An hour later she was packed and ready to go. Grey clouds scudded across the face of the range. Rain was on its way. Abbey reluctantly climbed into the car, clutching Percy and wearing her grumpiest face.

  ‘Where’s Jake?’

  Abbey shrugged and hugged Percy tighter.

  Kim swore softly beneath her breath. ‘I told him we were going ten minutes ago.’ She slammed the car door behind her, headed for the woodshed. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Jake. ‘I just want to chop this last.’

  ‘We don’t need any more wood. We’re going home.’

  ‘Just wait, will you?’

  ‘No.’ She could feel her stress levels rising, along with her voice. ‘I won’t wait. We’re going – now.’

  ‘All right. You don’t have to yell.’ Jake left the log half-chopped and headed for the door.

  ‘Leave the tomahawk,’ said Kim. ‘You’re not taking that in the car.’

  Jake grasped the handle with both hands. ‘It’s mine.’

  ‘Put it down,’ she said through clenched teeth.

  ‘No.’ Anger had flared in Jake’s eyes, and he gripped the handle tighter. Kim knew t
he signs all too well. Often she would give in at this point, reluctant to provoke one of his rages. But this time was different. There was no way she was going to let that damn axe into the car and, anyway, she was sick to death of tiptoeing around her son’s temper.

  ‘Give me that.’ She reached for the handle, but Jake jumped backwards and ran from the shed. Kim gave chase. ‘Give it to me,’ she screamed.

  ‘Here, have it then!’ Jake threw the tomahawk.

  They both watched in horror as it sailed towards her, the moment slow in time, Kim’s movements slow too – she couldn’t seem to get out of the way. The blade caught the side of her left boot. Kim’s foot buckled beneath her and she wound up on her bottom in the dirt.

  Jake’s face drained of all colour. ‘I didn’t mean for it to hit you.’

  ‘What did you expect would happen?’ Kim unlaced the boot and eased it off, then the sock. Thank goodness for the thick leather uppers – they’d sustained most of the damage. Blood seeped from a cut in her ankle. She pressed her sock against the wound to stem the flow.

  Abbey came to see what was happening. ‘Don’t worry, sweetie,’ Kim said. ‘It looks much worse than it is.’

  Abbey stared accusingly at Jake. ‘Did you hurt Mummy?’

  ‘It was an accident,’ said Kim. Jake burst into tears. Kim couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him cry. ‘Can one of you please get a spare pair of socks from my suitcase?’

  Both children raced for the car. Now they’ll quarrel about who gets them. Sure enough, raised voices sounded from the driveway. Next minute, Jake arrived with a ball of socks, closely followed by Abbey. She had socks too.

  Kim pulled one on, then two more over the top of that. ‘Help me up.’ Jake and Abbey pulled her to her feet and supported her as she hobbled to the car. She slid behind the wheel.

  ‘Can you drive?’ asked Abbey.

  ‘Course I can.’ She waved her good leg out the door. ‘Mr Right Foot to the rescue.’ Abbey giggled. Even Jake managed the ghost of a smile. ‘Okay, kids, hop in.’