‘Okay,’ said Kim. ‘The more the merrier, I suppose.’ The quoll jumped onto her shoulder and sat there, cleaning its face with tiny hands. Cute was an understatement. ‘Abbey will go nuts over these when she gets home from school. Maybe Taj can rig up a pen away from the house. It might stop her corrupting them.’
Dusty scratched at the door. ‘I guess the poor thing’s lonely now Jake’s back at school,’ said Mel. ‘How’s that going, do you think? Todd says Jake’s fitted right in.’
‘He has,’ said Kim. ‘I’ve never been so relieved about anything in my life. He comes home happy, excited about his day. He’s off those stupid computer games. He’s doing homework, and getting reasonable grades for the first time in two years. He’s like a different boy.’ The quoll investigated her ear. ‘It’s early days, but I have a feeling your little Tingo school could be the making of my Jake.’
‘I’m so pleased.’ Mel licked some chocolate icing off her fingers. ‘I don’t suppose you’d think about staying on, after this year, I mean? Jake could catch the bus to Wingham with Todd in the morning.’
‘I can’t,’ said Kim. ‘My job’s in Campbelltown. I can’t afford to take more time off.’
‘There’s a TAFE at Taree. It’s an easy hour’s drive. Ben does it. You could work there.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ The quoll was licking Kim’s ear now. She could feel the tickle of its tiny tongue. ‘I’m head of horticulture at Campbelltown. You can’t just walk into a position like that.’
‘No, of course not.’ Mel fiddled with a spoon on the table. ‘What about all the trees you’re planting? Don’t you want to see that through? The new owner might cut them all down.’
‘They can’t,’ said Kim. ‘Journey’s End is protected by a conservation covenant. And, anyway, I’ll sell it to somebody like me.’
‘There isn’t anybody else like you,’ said Mel fiercely. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just . . . It’s just I don’t want you to go. I’ve never had a friend like you.’
Kim felt a catch in her throat, thinking of all the times she’d dismissed Mel as a bit of a dill or tried to avoid her. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Kim. ‘Not for ages. Ow!’ Her hand flew to the side of her head. The inquisitive quoll had nipped her ear.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Mel plucked it from Kim’s shoulder. ‘Huey was just playing, weren’t you, baby?’
‘Huey?’
‘That’s right.’ Mel pointed to each quoll in turn. ‘Huey, Dewey, Louie and Minnie.’
Kim laughed. ‘They all look the same. How do you know which is which?’
‘It’s easy,’ said Mel. ‘Huey has a big, blotchy spot – right here. And Minnie’s smaller, see? And she has a spot right at the tip of her tail. Louie —’
‘Should I be taking notes?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. You’ll need to weigh them once a week, so you’d better learn who’s who.’
‘I’ll make a point of it,’ said Kim. ‘Now how about we take these monkeys up to the chook pen? I can’t wait to see how they like it.’
The quolls explored their new quarters, climbing effortlessly up the chicken wire, snapping up a few disturbed moths and snails as they went. One by one they discovered the old possum nesting box, and vanished inside. ‘Quolls are mainly nocturnal,’ said Mel. ‘They’ll come out again after dark.’
The two of them examined every inch of the enclosure for weaknesses and holes. Dusty poked his nose into everything, trying to help, making them laugh with his antics.
‘We really should have done this before we installed the new residents,’ said Kim.
‘I was thinking that myself.’
‘Where did the quolls come from?’
‘A dairy farmer shot their mother in his chook house,’ said Mel. ‘His wife found babies in the pouch and brought them here. It makes me so mad. Last week I heard some locals in the Wingham pub complaining about a quoll plague. When I asked them, it turned out they’d seen three quolls between them in two years. Only three bloody quolls. A few sightings like that is enough to make people think they’re still common. Or someone will hear a shriek in the night and say it’s quolls. There are plenty of other things that shriek in the night – possums, feral cats, a rabbit taken by a fox.’
Kim put down the fencing pliers and turned to Mel. ‘This really matters to you, doesn’t it?’
‘Of course it matters.’ Mel’s voice rose a notch. ‘What did you think? That I accept all these half-dead, orphaned animals because I’m lonely, or a soft touch, or have some over-developed maternal instinct?’
Kim looked hard at a small hole in the chicken wire. The comment was a little too close to the truth.
‘That’s what Geoff thinks,’ Mel went on. ‘That it’s some silly, sentimental hobby. But he’s wrong. I’ve studied and taken courses. I’m a registered wildlife carer, and a bloody good one too. I’m just as committed to what I do as you are to your plants.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Kim. ‘These animals have really found their champion.’
‘Really? That means a lot, coming from you. In some ways, you’re everything I wish I was. Smart, educated, independent. Beautiful . . .’
‘You’re smart, educated, independent and beautiful,’ Kim said. Why couldn’t she see it? Mel had blossomed in the short time Kim had known her. She was coming into her own. But Mel continued as if Kim hadn’t said anything.
‘No wonder Ben likes you.’
Kim felt her cheeks flame and she looked away. Time to change the subject. ‘I’ve got a favour to ask.’
‘Anything.’ Mel’s eyes held a touching eagerness.
Kim had no idea why her friend was so determined to put her on a pedestal. She had the feeling that Mel would have agreed to almost anything. Thank goodness this favour would be right down her alley – sort of.
‘Right now there’s no safe forest passage for animals from Cedar Creek up to Tarringtops. But if we take down some of the fences between my place and yours, and plant trees all the way from your timbered gullies, down to the creek . . . we’ll have a wildlife corridor that connects the remnant bushland of the creek basin with the national park.’
‘Like a nature highway?’
‘Exactly. Taj has been telling me about a concept called Cores and Corridors – restoring connections between core wilderness areas.’ Kim wasn’t being entirely honest. This was an edited version. The concept was actually known as Cores, Corridors and Carnivores. She hoped Mel wouldn’t google the term for herself. It called for the reintroduction of top-order predators as well. This might not be a sheep farmer’s favourite thing.
‘It’s a brilliant idea. I love it,’ said Mel. ‘Getting rid of the fences between us. Joining up like we’re proper partners.’ Mel put down the wire she was holding and wrapped Kim in a heartfelt hug.
‘We need to celebrate,’ said Kim, moved by Mel’s trust in her. ‘There’s some bubbly in the fridge. Though Taj should be here. It was his idea in the first place. I told you he was a biologist, right?’
‘Are you ever spoilt for choice,’ said Mel. ‘The two hunkiest men for miles around, and they’re both falling all over you. How do you do it?’ She turned back to the pen. ‘Play hard to get?’
‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.’
‘Fair enough.’ Mel sighed. ‘Keep your secrets. Now, about these fences – we can’t take them all down. What about my sheep?’
‘Of course not,’ said Kim. ‘Just where your gully abuts my boundary, and again where it meets Tarringtops. Then we’ll fence the length of it. I’m happy to pay for materials, and we can all help with the work.’ The full enormity of what they were proposing hit her. ‘Just think,’ said Kim. ‘Animals will be able to pass freely between the creek flats and the rainforest again for the first time since timber-cutters cleared these hills.’
‘That was over a hundred years ago.’
‘We’ll be righting a century-old wrong then,’ said Kim.
&nbs
p; Solemnly they shook hands.
Mel finished patching a tiny hole in the chicken wire. ‘That’s the last one. Those quolls will need magic to get out of here now. Let’s break out the bubbly.’
‘One more thing,’ said Kim. ‘Somebody’s been spotlighting here. I’ve heard rifle shots after midnight and seen lights on the hill. The last thing I want here is hunters. Any idea who it might be?’
Mel picked up her tools. ‘Could be almost anybody. Most blokes round here go rabbiting and this place used to be fair game. I guess it’s all right if they’re picking off ferals. Doing you a favour, really. They should ask permission, though, now you’re here.’
‘Bloody oath they should,’ said Kim. ‘This is a nature reserve. I don’t want anybody but Taj shooting here. Where are they getting in, do you think?’
‘Well, not through She-Oak Springs, and Ben wouldn’t put up with trespassers, but there are plenty of other places. That track by the billabong, where Taj built the brumby yards. Or maybe they’re crossing in from the national park.’
‘Might have to hold a stake-out one night,’ said Kim. ‘Catch them in the act.’
‘And maybe get shot in the process.’
‘That’s a bit melodramatic,’ said Kim.
‘Make fun of me if you like, but I’m warning you – drunken bogans, guns and darkness are a dangerous combination.’
‘Okay, Mum,’ teased Kim. ‘I’ll brush my teeth and go to bed early instead.
Dusty put a paw on Mel’s leg, and she gave him a pat. ‘He’s growing into a good type, Kim. Old timers always say the best dogs have a touch of dingo in them.’
CHAPTER 24
It was the seniors’ cricket grand final. Tingo against Wingham – the first time the local team had ever made it through. Abbey helped pack the sandwiches and cold chook in the esky, along with the coleslaw they’d made the night before. Kim added butter and a loaf of sourdough from the freezer. It would defrost by lunchtime. A packet of Chocolate Royals. Some bananas, oranges and a sorry-looking bunch of grapes that Abbey had been picking at. A second esky held the drinks and ice. Two folding chairs leaned against the wall. Pity she didn’t have any more. Maybe Mel would bring some?
Kim closed the lid, and studied the esky like she had x-ray vision. Would there be enough food? Taj would be there as well. Maybe she should have made some extra sandwiches. Kim glanced at the clock. There might still be time.
‘Mum.’ Jake pelted into the kitchen, Dusty at his heels. ‘Ben’s here.’
Okay, no extra sandwiches. She pointed to the eskies. ‘Can you take one of those please?’
Jake picked up the heavier of the two in one easy motion. The physical aspect of life in Tingo had been good for him. He was stronger, with muscles that weren’t there a few months ago. Tanned and fit and brimming with confidence.
Jake put the esky back down. ‘Can Dusty come?’
‘I don’t think so, darling. It will be too crowded in the car.’
Since Taj had made the astonishing confession that Dusty was a dingo, she’d been loath to take him out in public in case somebody guessed. He didn’t come on the school run anymore, or to the store. He stayed out the back when visitors came. She was probably worrying about nothing. A Google image search for black and tan dingoes brought up multiple pictures of dogs that looked a lot like kelpies – and Dusty did too. However, she wanted to err on the side of caution.
‘Ben wouldn’t let him in his car anyway,’ said Abbey. ‘He hates Dusty.’ Jake glared at his sister, but held his tongue. ‘Why not ask Taj to bring him?’
Jake looked even more surly. ‘Is Taj coming today?’
‘Yep.’ Abbey was wearing her triumphant face. ‘That’s why we made corn beef and pickle sandwiches. They’re his favourite, aren’t they, Mum?’
‘Wayne Stevens rolled his quad bike and broke his collarbone,’ said Kim. ‘He can’t play. Taj is making up the numbers.’
‘Great,’ said Jake. ‘Now we’re bound to lose.’
‘Well?’ said Abbey. ‘Are you going to ask Taj to bring Dusty or not?’
Kim waited, hoping Jake would make the decision to leave the pup himself, so she wouldn’t have to weigh in. He pulled at his ear and looked out the window, as if the answer might be there. Since getting Dusty, his level of hostility towards Taj had gone down a notch. But not enough, Kim suspected, for Jake to ask him for a favour.
‘I guess he can stay here,’ said Jake at last. ‘Can he have a bone?’
Kim smiled. ‘The biggest, juiciest marrowbone I can find. He’ll hardly notice you’re gone.’
The back door swung open and Ben strolled in. He was Tingo’s top bowler and a handy bat – the sort of talented all-rounder that country sides dreamed of. Cricket clothes whiter than white, and perfectly pressed. He looked like the lead model in a laundry-powder ad campaign. Why didn’t Jake’s whites ever look like that?
‘Ready, folks?’ Ben flashed Kim a brilliant smile, and picked up an esky. ‘You want this in the car?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Bye, Dusty.’ Jake picked up the other esky and followed Ben out the door.
Dusty whined. Kim hugged his shiny black mane. Four months old now, and growing fast. Mel said the size of his feet meant he’d be bigger than the average kelpie. ‘Don’t grow too much more,’ whispered Kim. He whined again. ‘Cheer up. Let’s get you that bone.’ He trotted to the fridge, his whole body aquiver with anticipation. ‘You understand me perfectly, don’t you?’ Dusty pointed his nose to the roof and gave a funny, yodelling bark, making her laugh. And to think there was a time she didn’t want this little dingo.
Ben poked his head round the door. ‘Tie that mutt up and let’s get going. Will I pack these chairs?’
The pup shot out the back of his own accord. Kim took him a bone, almost as big as he was. Such a pity Ben didn’t like Dusty. Maybe with time that would change.
Ben cruised round the sports ground for a minute or two, then nosed the LandCruiser into the guardrail. ‘You’ll get a good view of the pitch from here.’
Jake jumped out and hauled Ben’s sports bag from the back. ‘Can I carry this for you?’
‘Sure thing, champ.’ Ben did an Aussie salute, waving a crowd of sticky bush flies from his face. It was shaping up to be a scorcher, one of those hot, humid days that sometimes turned up in late March, summer’s last hurrah. Ben turned to Abbey and fished a few dollars from his pocket. ‘Here you go, sweetheart. They sell chips and cold drinks at the canteen, that’s as long as your mum doesn’t mind.’
Abbey’s angelic face creased into a frown. She put her hands on her hips, and drew her seven-year-old self up to full height. ‘No, thank you, Ben.’ It was as good a cold shoulder as Kim had seen.
Ben shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Come on, Jake.’ The pair of them headed off towards the change rooms.
Kim sighed. Jake didn’t like Taj. Abbey didn’t like Ben. Ben didn’t like Dusty. Why on earth couldn’t everybody get along?
A honk from behind. Mel, trying to squeeze her car in beside them, without much success. At last she gave up, reversed out, and parked under a spreading peppercorn tree. What a lifesaver. Kim wasn’t much of a cricket fan. Without Mel, it would be a very long day.
A carnival atmosphere was developing as more and more cars entered the ground. The rural fireys ran a sausage sizzle. The brownies had a fairy floss cart, which proved endlessly fascinating to Abbey and Nikki. The high school sold half-melted paddle pops from a rattling freezer on the sports club verandah. People with cans of drink sat in their cars or on their bonnets. Watching the game. Tooting their horns when a player made a good shot or went out. Cheering at every run.
It seemed like the entire population of both towns had turned out to spur on their teams. Men and women, young and old – they were all there. And, to her surprise, Kim was enjoying herself. She thought back to the trivia night, just a few short months ago. First time in a room full of strangers for two years and she’d been
terrified. What a long way she’d come. Although she wasn’t surrounded by strangers, not anymore. Every second person greeted her, called her by name. The cricket club was tightly woven into the social fabric of the community and she loved feeling that she belonged. Kim spotted Jake with Todd on the far side of the ground. The boys had put the greatest possible distance between them and their mothers.
Mel arrived with cans of Fanta for the girls and two beers. Kim stared at her friend’s stylish, slim-fit jeans. At her black, tucked-in shirt, bearing the RM Williams longhorn emblem on the pocket, and revealing an enviable waist. At the swept-back hair with copper highlights. Plain Mel was turning into a hot item. ‘Look at you.’ Mel reddened, her face a charming mix of pleasure and embarrassment. ‘What about that hat?’ Mel’s fingers reached for the brim of her brand-new, white Akubra. ‘And those.’ Kim pointed to Mel’s dark-red, calf-length, embossed-leather boots.
‘Cowgirl boots,’ said Mel, a little shyly. ‘Ariat. I’ve always wanted a pair, but Geoff didn’t like them.’ She smiled. ‘I guess now I can do what I like.’
‘I guess you can,’ said Kim. Together they burst out laughing.
Horns honked, and a Tingo player walked from the field, a picture of dejection. ‘Just in time.’ Mel handed Kim a beer, and cracked her own. She moved her camp chair into a patch of afternoon shade and settled down to watch. ‘Ben’s up next.’
It was turning into an entertaining match, and Kim was looking forward to Ben’s innings. He strolled out to the pitch, emerald-green courtesy of artificial turf, a tall, confident figure, owning the field. His clothes somehow remained blindingly white, despite a morning’s bowling. Except for a red stain on his trousers. Mel groaned. ‘How hot is he? I wouldn’t mind being his cricket ball. Did you see the way he polished it when he was bowling? Rubbing it up and down his pants . . .’
‘Stop it.’ Kim stifled a laugh. ‘The girls will hear you.’
Ben was coming in to bat at number six. Tingo were chasing a score of 127, and still needed eighty runs. Not too hard a target, and they had Ben to thank for that. He’d kept Wingham’s two star openers quiet with his showy spinners, and then bowled them both out. Tingo had its hopes pinned on him coming through for them as a batsman as well.
Journey’s End Page 18
