‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. Now come inside and have some lunch.’
Jake was full of questions. ‘Can I feed them? Can they sleep in my room? Can I name them?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Kim, buttering rounds of bread. ‘We’ll have to ask Mel.’
Jake devoured his sandwiches in record time, and went down to the gate to watch and wait. Abbey ran to fetch Percy the poodle, and then joined him. Kim watched nervously from the lounge room window, wishing she’d told Jake that Taj was coming, hoping that Mel and the joeys would arrive first.
No such luck. Kim curled her fingers in the faded lace curtains as the battered black ute bumped up the drive. The kitchen door banged, and Jake burst in. ‘What’s he doing here? You said Mel was bringing the joeys.’
‘She is,’ said Kim. ‘But they need a safe place to be during the day. Taj is going to fix up the old chook pen.’
‘What for? I could do that. Make him go.’
He didn’t look like her little boy anymore. He looked like his father. But there was something of herself too, in the set of his stubborn, anxious face.
‘Taj just wants to help . . .’
‘No, Mum.’ His eyes blazed with anger. ‘Make him go!’
‘All right. We’ll fix up the chook pen ourselves. I’ll send him away.’
Jake gave her a sharp nod. ‘Good. I’m going for a walk.’
‘Thought you wanted to see the joeys arrive?’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He marched out and slammed the back door.
Kim looked through the window, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare. Abbey was skipping over to Taj as he climbed from the car, chattering away, as friendly and warm as a labrador puppy. Kim hurried outside. Taj certainly evoked some strong feelings in her children. Abbey, who’d always been painfully shy with strangers, was irresistibly drawn to this man, while Jake despised him. Kim disapproved of both responses. Prejudice wasn’t okay, but neither was blind trust.
‘Sorry for wasting your time, Taj, but we don’t need help with the chook pen after all.’
His searching coffee-coloured eyes held hers, leaving no place to hide. He could see straight through to what she didn’t want to say. ‘The boy does not want me here.’
‘No, it’s not that . . .’ Her words petered out. There was no point lying to this man, even to protect his feelings. He already knew the truth.
‘Something has changed for him,’ said Taj.
Abbey took hold of his hand, her expression kind. ‘It’s not your fault, Taj. It’s because you’re from Afghanistan.’
‘Abbey,’ scolded Kim. ‘That’s enough.’ She tried to fetch her daughter away from Taj by pulling at her other hand. Abbey squirmed free and hid behind him. Why couldn’t he just go? She owed him no explanation. But instead he stood his ground, silently requesting one. ‘Jake’s father – my husband – was stationed in Afghanistan.’
‘He was a soldier?’
‘Yes.’ After all this time, it still hurt to tell. ‘Connor was killed, two years ago. A roadside bomb.’
The soft light of understanding shone in his eyes. ‘And Jake, he thinks Afghanis are all murderers like the Taliban. Like the men who killed his father.’
Kim gave an awkward shrug. ‘I suppose so. Don’t worry, I plan to talk with him. Make him understand.’
For one brief moment, a mask seemed to fall from Taj’s face, and she glimpsed all the sadness of the world there. ‘These things are not so easily explained,’ he said. ‘I am sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you.’
His mask was back, betraying no emotion. ‘Do you still wish me to work on the house?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He nodded and turned to go.
‘Aren’t you going to give Mummy the flowers?’ said Abbey.
Kim frowned. Flowers? There was nothing appropriate about Taj bringing her flowers. Her early misgivings about him came flooding back.
‘No,’ said Taj.
‘But she’ll love them.’ Abbey ran to his ute and snatched something off the front seat, wrapped in a funnel of foil. ‘Here, Mum.’ She thrust them forward. ‘These are for you.’
Taj shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and dragged aside the dark lock of hair that always fell over his face. Kim glanced down and gasped aloud. No, it couldn’t be. With extravagant care, she eased the stems from their silver cradle. There was no mistaking the waxy five-petalled flowers: large and fragrant, a dozen or more to each stem. Sarcochilus fitzgeraldii, the rare ravine orchid. And these were the rarest of the rare – each perfect bloom pure crimson.
Kim found herself laughing with delight. When was the last time she’d felt like this: this heady combination of excitement and joy?
‘I told you Mum would like them.’ Abbey was beaming as she danced ‘Ring a ring a Rosie’ with Percy Poodle. Even the serious Taj looked pleased. Kim’s happiness was infectious.
‘Where did you find these?’
‘On the rocks above the rapids.’
‘Are there many plants? Are there clumps?’
‘Clumps, yes.’ He held out his arms. ‘This wide.’
‘This wide,’ said Abbey, copying him. Kim swept her up in a great giggling hug. ‘I love it when you’re like this, Mummy.’
‘Do you, darling?’ Kim kissed her and put her down. ‘These clumps . . . are they all this colour? Crimson flowers are so unusual.’
‘Some are crimson, some are white with scarlet hearts.’
‘Both kinds?’ Kim began talking so fast it was hard to take breath. ‘Ravine orchids have never been recorded at Tingo or Tarringtops. Never. Although computer models predicted they’d be here. Do you know how many times I’ve gone looking for them? I didn’t even know there were rapids on Cedar Creek. Are they far?’
‘Not far. North of here, on your land.’ Taj glanced down at his boots.
He’d been trespassing. So what? Otherwise these exceptional orchids might have remained a secret. She put her nose to the blooms, drinking in their scent. How many people on the face of the earth had savoured the rich fragrance of wild ravine orchids? ‘You must show me where you found them.’
‘Of course.’ The sound of an axe on wood rang through the air. Jake. ‘I should go now.’
‘Oh. Goodbye then.’ How would she bear the waiting? If only the joeys weren’t coming. If only Jake wasn’t in such a funk. She was filled with the glory of discovery, the way she’d been when she and Connor first explored this mountain paradise. The way she’d never expected to be again.
Kim made an effort to come down to earth. There was still the chicken coop to fix. The joeys would be on their way. She was so excited, so full of news and dying to share it with somebody. Normally that person would be Daisy, but the two of them hadn’t spoken since the argument. Not once.
There was her mother, of course. She didn’t understand her daughter’s passion for rare plants, though she’d do a marvellous job of faking it. But the house was in a black spot, no mobile reception at all. Mel was it, and that was okay.
Kim went to the tank behind the house, and sprinkled the flowers with water. When she got back, Ben’s dusty red LandCruiser was coming up the drive. He unfolded his long, lean form from the driver’s seat. Khaki shorts, a blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves and the ubiquitous Akubra hat – a picture of Aussie bush charm.
‘You do remember this place is off the market for twelve months?’ said Kim.
‘Trying to cheat me out of my commission?’
‘Only temporarily.’
‘It’s a bit of a nuisance. I’d already started on your contract – asked Mandy to search the title and collect info for the vendor’s statement. By next year, it’ll all need to be updated.’
‘No doubt your fee will reflect that,’ said Kim.
‘Nah, don’t worry about it.’ Ben stretched his arms over his head and arched his spine. His stance emphasised the strength in his thighs and the ramrod straightness of
his back. ‘I’ve just driven home from Sydney. Does it ever feel good to get out of that bloody car.’
Kim was still beaming; she couldn’t stop. Ben looked at her curiously. ‘That’s one hell of a smile. You won the lottery?’
‘Better than that,’ said Kim. ‘Way better.’ She wanted to skip and sing the way Abbey did. Where was Abbey? She couldn’t see her anywhere.
Jake came pelting up the hill. He looked as happy as she did. ‘Ben,’ said Jake, a little out of breath. ‘I’ve kept that tomahawk super-sharp like you said. Want to try it?’
‘In a minute, champ. In a minute.’ His attention remained on Kim. ‘So, what’s this earth-shattering news of yours?’
‘I found an orchid – well, Taj did.’ She showed him the elegant stems, with their pendulous, crimson blooms. Ben put his nose to the flowers and inhaled, taking one endless breath.
‘Know what they smell like? That crazy expensive French perfume my girlfriend used to like. Cost me an arm and a leg, it did. Bottle those flowers and you’ll make a fortune.’
‘Sorry, Ben. Your girlfriend will never get to use this fragrance.’
‘Never mind. She shot through last month, anyway.’ He paused, as if hoping for a reaction. Kim remained blank. She wasn’t going to encourage any further sharing. ‘Tell me,’ said Ben. ‘What’s so special about your flowers?’
‘They might be the only wild ravine orchids this side of Taree.’
Jake pushed in between them. ‘We’re getting joeys.’
Kim put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Ben, you could have these orchids too. If they’re there, you’ll find them mainly on rocky outcrops along the creek, with their roots clinging to crevices. Ravine orchids is such a perfect name for them. Although sometimes they’ll clump around the base of trees. That’s uncommon, though. Hell, the whole concept of these orchids is uncommon. Promise me you’ll look for them at Granite Hills?’
‘I don’t know.’ A smile played around his lips. ‘It’s not like this matters to you, right?’
Kim brushed his arm in a pretend punch.
‘Ow. What if I found them and the government slapped one of those conservation covenants on me?’
‘You’re an estate agent,’ said Kim. ‘You know better than anybody they’re voluntary agreements.’
‘Just winding you up.’
‘I think your father organised the covenant on Journey’s End for us,’ she said. ‘Walter Steele?’
‘That’s him. Must have broken dear old dad’s heart to lock up those forests.’
‘Not locked up,’ she said. ‘Protected. It means I can sell this place next year and not worry.’
Ben shook his head. ‘I still think you’re crazy.’
Kim was too happy to mind. ‘Will you look for the orchids?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Why not?’
‘Don’t waste any time. We’re at the end of the season and it’s hard to identify them when they finish flowering. You could confuse them with common orchids in the same family.’
‘You’d better come with me then,’ said Ben. ‘Show me what to look for.’
Kim wanted to strike off upstream there and then. ‘It’s a deal.’ She felt lighter than she had in years.
‘Ben, Ben.’ Jake touched his arm. ‘My grandad gave me a cricket ball signed by Shane Warne. Do you want to see it? He was a spin bowler like you.’
‘I know who he was, champ. Go get it and I’ll take a look. Meanwhile, I want to ask your mum a favour.’
Jake ran off.
Kim cocked her head at Ben. ‘He likes you.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ said Ben. ‘I’m a great guy.’ His grin was boyish, charming, disarming. ‘Now, about that favour. How do you feel about trivia nights?’
She narrowed her eyes a fraction. ‘Why?’
‘The local fireys are holding one as a fundraiser Saturday week. We need another person to make up the numbers on our table.’
‘What about Jake and Abbey?’
‘Bring them along. Mel’s bringing her kids. It won’t be a late night.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Come on. You’ll meet the natives, and it’s for a good cause.’
Could she? Kim had given up on socialising since Connor died. She didn’t do going out. But Taj’s discovery of the ravine orchids had changed things, woken up some long dormant part of her. Kim sniffed the rare flowers. They made her feel present, alive. ‘Okay, I’ll come.’
‘Great. See you there . . . oh, and ladies bring a plate.’
‘Only the ladies?’
‘Just a figure of speech.’ There was mischief in his bright blue eyes.
And for once, when Kim thought of Connor, her heart did not break.
CHAPTER 10
Taj swung his ute down the rough bush track towards home, a troubled man. He thought he was immune to taunts and insults. He thought he’d built an unassailable wall around his heart. So why did the judgement of one small boy disturb him so?
As he neared the house a chorus of howling and barking rose to meet him. Taj checked his watch. Later than he thought. A rare afternoon off, and he’d wasted most of it traipsing up the creek after orchids for Kim Sullivan.
Carla ran to meet him, her silver plume of a tail waving in welcome. He took a moment to admire her. A perfect example of the breed. Elegant, almost feline in her movements despite her large belly, and with the broad head and keen, intelligent eyes so typical of maremmas.
Taj ruffled her soft coat then climbed the rough steps by the house to the shady top pens. More like small paddocks really. Four more maremmas whined and leaped at the gates. A small flock of sheep dozed under the trees behind them. On release, the dogs gambolled about, dashing off here and there, then racing back to him.
Taj led the dogs down a well-worn bush track to where fallen trees had dammed a bend in the creek. A natural swimming hole, dark and deep. Maremmas loved water. The dogs plunged into the shallows, splashing each other and skittering after minnows. Taj stood on a rock and stripped naked, enjoying the feel of cool forest air and dappled sunshine on his skin. He walked along a broad log that spanned the banks and dived in, bracing against the cold. However hot the days became, these mountain streams always remained chilly.
He floated on his back, gazing up through a filigree of leaves and branches, shades of brown and green against brilliant blue. Liquid notes of birdsong splashed the air. Taj closed his eyes and let the current empty his mind, dissolve his tension, wash it away. He could stay like this forever.
His canine companions had other ideas. Maremmas were strong swimmers. The pack struck out towards the centre of the swimming hole, all except the heavily pregnant Carla. Ava and Bibi reached him first, scrambling for the floating island of his body, dunking him underwater. ‘Oh no, you don’t.’ Taj and the dogs wrestled and played together until they were all tired out. Then, holding onto Saber’s collar, he allowed himself to be towed ashore.
Taj settled down in the shade, his back against a blue gum. He loved this place. To the east lay endless fern-filled valleys. To the north rose the cliffs of Tarringtops. However many times he saw those craggy battlements, they still stirred his blood.
He’d had an easier passage to Australia than most, arriving under the interpreter resettlement program. Hundreds of refugee places were set aside for Afghan nationals who’d helped Coalition forces during the war, and when asked to nominate a country, Taj had picked Australia. He’d surprised himself with this decision. Britain should have been his natural choice. When his father died, and his mother shortly after, it was a British aid group that took him in, and sent him to a school where he became fluent in English. The charity rewarded his talent with a scholarship to the University of Leeds to study environmental biology. Having grown up in a remote mountain village, he found England overwhelming. He’d never felt at home in its crowded cities and tame countryside.
Instead, a century-old family connection had lured Taj Down Under: stories
heard at his aunt’s knee of their forebear, Abdul Wade, the intrepid cameleer who had moved to Australia in the 1880s to forge a new life. Those tales had stayed with Taj. Perhaps he could do the same? He’d done his research. Australia was sparsely populated. A country of wild, lonely places where he could lose himself. Where he could find some private corner of the world in which to grieve.
At first Taj settled in Newcastle under the Rural Australians For Refugees ‘Welcome Towns’ program. Local people sponsored individuals, or sometimes whole families. They took them in, helped them adjust, taught them English and found them jobs. Taj was billeted at the local rectory, with an elderly Anglican vicar and his wife. ‘Don’t worry, young man. We’re a tolerant bunch. You pray to Allah wherever and whenever you like.’
Taj hadn’t bothered explaining. He soon left the well-meaning vicar and took a job down the coal mines, working twelve-hour shifts and keeping to himself. That wasn’t the hard part. Some of his co-workers were downright hostile. ‘You Pakis are all the same. A bunch of bloody Muslim terrorists. Piss off home.’ The fact that he was neither Pakistani terrorist nor Muslim was apparently irrelevant.
He found friendship with Yusuf, a fellow Afghan saving money to bring his wife and son to Australia. And also Hakim, a former policeman with excellent English, who’d fled the war in Syria. Taj tolerated the mines for a while, but working down a filthy pit wasn’t for him. With some money saved, he went in search of space and solitude.
Setting out on the road like a modern-day nomad, Taj drifted from town to town. Months of wandering brought him to Tingo. So much about this place reminded him of Ariana, where he was born. Fat sheep grazed the green foothills. Craggy mountain peaks rose above the tiny township. Even the crystal clarity of light was familiar. Here, with dingoes howling at night and a vast wilderness on his doorstep, here he would try to heal and make a new home.
Taj bought a wild block of land that nobody wanted, deep in the forest. He built a house with rough bush timber and the skills he’d learned from his father. He cleared some land to plant vegetables and an orchard. Kept chickens and sheep. Made his own furniture, installed rainwater tanks, an off-the-grid solar system and back-up generator. Put a sign up at the general store-cum-post office. Handyman For Hire. One by one people reached out, accepting him at face value, asking few questions.
Journey’s End Page 9
