Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  A car was coming on Bangalow Road. Headlights pierced the gloom as it swung in at the gate. Kim and the dingoes froze for a moment in the headlights. Then the pack melted into the night, all except Dusty. Kim kept a hand on his collar, just to be sure.

  Ben jumped the gate and ran to her. ‘Bloody hell, are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  A low rumble sounded in Dusty’s throat and Ben backed away.

  ‘Come and look at this,’ he said. She followed him back down the track. Wired to the gate was a piece of old tin bearing the words Piss Off Dingo Lover.

  CHAPTER 35

  ‘I’m not going,’ said Jake as they pulled up at the school.

  ‘Yes, you are.’ Kim’s patience was nearing its end. ‘Out you get. I’ve got things to do.’

  Jake threw her a mutinous glance, grabbed his bag, and slammed the door behind him.

  Thank god.

  ‘You too, sweetie.’

  Abbey’s frown showed her own reluctance to leave. ‘Don’t be late picking us up,’ she said as she climbed from the car.

  Kim watched until the bell went and they trooped inside. Jean, standing at the classroom door, gave her a wave. Yesterday Jake had jumped the fence before school and walked all the way home.

  A mere week into third term, and her new life was collapsing around her. The dingoes, that nobody had actually seen, had divided the town into two rough camps. Old hippies and tree-changers, who’d come to Tingo as a lifestyle choice, saw them as iconic animals, romantic symbols of wild Australia. Farmers, with a few exceptions, were opposed. She couldn’t walk down the main street without somebody voicing an opinion.

  Kim needed bread and milk and weighed up the pros and cons of shopping at the general store. It was either that or drive all the way to Wingham and back. What the hell. It was right around the corner. She’d be in and out before you knew it.

  Kim began the short walk to the shop. Oops, bad idea. Old Charlie had pulled up outside. He might be a mechanic now, but apparently he used to be a farmer.

  ‘It’s criminal, what you’re doing,’ he said, spotting her. ‘I spend half me life getting rid of bloody dingoes, and you go bring them back on purpose. The blood, sweat and tears that goes into raising livestock. You’ve no idea. Sleeping out in paddocks at lambing time, a rifle perched on your knee. Weeks of baiting wild dogs and checking traps. Then one morning there’s a dozen lambs wandering round with their guts hanging out. Or a calving cow with her insides eaten.’

  Kim couldn’t count how many of these horror stories she’d heard And her escape path to the car was blocked now, because Shirley Ryan was coming up behind her.

  ‘I’m afraid I agree with Charlie, dear,’ she said.

  Didn’t anybody say hello anymore?

  ‘It’s not until you see what they do to the poor sheep that you realise. All that time and money lost. It gives me the jitters, just knowing they’re out there somewhere.’

  Kim could scream. Everyone was an expert. Everyone wanted their say on the subject, even if it didn’t affect them at all. Shirley was retired and lived in the cottage behind the fire station, for heaven’s sake. What could the dingoes do to her? Slaughter the snapdragons? Maul the delphiniums to death?

  Lurking close was the thought of the obscene signs left at her place. There’d been anonymous texts as well. It was making her paranoid. Who was it? Geoff Masters? Old Charlie? It could be more than one person. It could be almost anybody. Suspicion was poisoning her relationship with the people of Tingo.

  ‘Sorry, Shirley, but I forgot something.’ Kim hurried past her, back to the car, back to safety. Compared to visiting the general store, an hour round trip to Wingham for milk and bread seemed like an attractive deal.

  Kim got home at lunchtime, and the rest of the day was a write-off. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t settle at anything. The kids, the dingoes, the person – people? – who’d left the sign. Ben, Taj, Mel – what to worry about first? Was Mel all right? Where was she? Even Dusty’s clowning couldn’t distract her.

  Kim set about preparing some seeds for planting, but her mind wasn’t on the job. She didn’t wear gloves when opening the flame tree pods, and hundreds of irritating guard hairs stuck in her fingers. She soaked the tuckeroo seeds, rather than the lacebarks, in very hot water. Not much chance of them germinating now. And she sneezed when opening a paper bag of red cedar capsules, scattering their tiny winged seeds to the wind.

  In the end she gave up and went inside to watch daytime television, something she hadn’t done in years. The Doctors talked about stress and how it could shorten your life. Dr. Phil was about the damage to bereaved children when their mother found a new man too quickly. The cooking shows made her feel inadequate. As the afternoon dragged on, her concern for the kids grew stronger. How were they getting on? She checked the clock for the umpteenth time.

  When it was finally time to pick them up, Jean was waiting with Abbey and Jake outside the gate. ‘A word please, Kim?’

  Jesus, what now? They followed the principal round to her office.

  ‘I want to talk to your mum on her own.’

  Jake slumped on a bench, face blank, eyes fixed on the wall. Abbey seemed upset too, avoiding her gaze, picking at a scab on her knee. It was beginning to bleed.

  ‘We’ve had an unfortunate day,’ said Jean when they were alone. ‘The other children made a silly decision. Sending Abbey and Jake to Coventry, so to speak, refusing to talk to them. I didn’t realise until halfway through lunchtime, when Abbey was sensible enough to come and tell me.’ She paused. ‘You have to understand, these children are mainly from farming families.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. All this over a few dingoes on my land, next to a national park, where, I might add, they’re protected by law.’

  ‘Geoff Masters says they’re killing a lot of stock at She-Oak Springs,’ said Jean. ‘He’s pretty het up. It hasn’t helped that Todd’s mother is away and he’s staying with Geoff. He’s picking up on his father’s anger.’

  Kim wanted to tell her about the bullets Taj had found. Why had she ever promised to keep that secret? ‘We’re talking two sheep, and I don’t believe for a minute that dingoes killed them.’

  ‘That’s not really the point, is it?’

  Kim liked Jean, she really did, but right now the principal was getting on her nerves.

  Jean continued, ‘I’m afraid it’s all about perception, what people think.’

  Kim’s composure wasn’t only slipping; it was ready to crash on the floor. ‘So if the truth stands for nothing, what’s your plan?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to the children, of course. At such a small school, it’s hard for any one child to resist the tide of peer pressure.’

  Kim’s mouth fell slack as the penny dropped. ‘So what you’re saying is, you can’t promise that this won’t happen again?’

  ‘Promise? No. It’s a very fluid situation. However I’m ringing all the parents over the weekend to request that they talk to their children.’

  Kim shoved her chair back. ‘A fat lot of good that’ll do. It’s the kids’ parents who set this up. They’re not going to do anything.’

  ‘I’m hopeful —’

  ‘Hopeful won’t cut it.’ Kim rose to her feet. ‘If you think I’m going to drop my kids off here on Monday, to be humiliated all over again . . . then you’re insane. They’ll come back when you can guarantee them fair treatment by everybody at this school. Guarantee it, you hear? Not before.’

  She turned on her heel and marched from the room.

  Abbey sprang back from the door – she must have been listening. And, uncharacteristically, Jake wrapped his arms around his mother.

  ‘Group hug,’ said Abbey, piling in too.

  Kim held them tight, the embrace touching a warm place in her chest, reserved only for her son and daughter.

  Evening came, masquerading as a lovely painting. The setting sun sent pale streamers of purple and gold across the sky. Mou
ntain peaks burnished in bronze glowed to the north like beacons. The rainforest, poised between light and darkness, took on an eerie beauty. Yet for once Tingo’s splendour failed to move her. The encroaching forest was more claustrophobic than enticing. Watering the plants was simply a chore. She didn’t stop to count the new leaves unfurling to the promise of spring. Feeding the possums and quolls was an unwelcome distraction. She didn’t wait, as night brought the little creatures to life. She just wanted to get it over with.

  Dusty sensed her sadness. He put on a show: sitting up and waving, rolling over and over, chasing his tail as he tried to make her laugh. But he annoyed her too. ‘Nick off.’ She shoved him away with her foot. ‘You and your mates are the reason we’re in this mess.’ Dusty whined and slunk away.

  The only bright spot on the horizon was the prospect of Ben coming around. In spite of his aversion to dingoes, he only occasionally badgered her about them.

  When she rang to tell him about the debacle at school, he hadn’t criticised, or said ‘I told you so.’ He’d simply insisted she needed cheering up, and offered to drive them all into Wingham for a pub dinner. ‘You don’t want to be bothered with cooking after the day you’ve had.’

  She was looking forward to it. Getting out of Tingo was exactly what she needed.

  Ben was good for her. His easy charm, his ready smile, the way he brought her out of herself. And, yes, it was true, although she’d denied it to Daisy – she liked that he reminded her of Connor. Sometimes, when he turned his head or flashed a smile, she felt for a precious moment that her husband was back. If he had been a bit of a ladies’ man, that was clearly in the past. It was flattering really.

  Kim wandered back to the house, thinking about the evening ahead. Abbey might be a problem. She didn’t like going places with Ben, which was why he always came to their house. Granite Hills homestead was far more spacious and comfortable. Ben had grown up there, and when his parents downsized and moved to Taree he’d taken the place over. Foxtel. A billiard room. Even a swimming pool. Jake loved it, of course, but because of Abbey they’d only visited twice. She didn’t even like being in the car with Ben. Well, tonight Kim would put her foot down. They would all drive to Wingham, have a lovely meal, and Abbey would enjoy herself. This was non-negotiable.

  However, Kim had underestimated the strength of her daughter’s opposition. A taste, perhaps, of what was to come when Abbey hit adolescence. Her sweet, adorable girl had turned into a screaming and rather melodramatic monster, raging in the kitchen.

  ‘I hate Ben. I’d rather die than go anywhere with him.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense. Just this once we’re doing it my way.’

  Abbey ran off.

  Kim found her in her room, zipped inside a sleeping bag, head and all. A curious Dusty lay beside her, pawing at Abbey’s wiggling body, making her giggle. Kim tapped lightly where she imagined Abbey’s head was. ‘Knock, knock. It must be hard to breathe in there. You’d better come out.’

  ‘I can’t,’ came the muffled reply. ‘It’s my cocoon. I’m turning into a butterfly and then I’ll fly to heaven to find Daddy.’

  Oh Abbey.

  Ben arrived, looking casually handsome in narrow jeans, a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt and the hint of a spike to his hair. He looked out of place in her rustic kitchen, but that suited her fine. She was fed up with country anyway.

  ‘She won’t come,’ said Kim.

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ Ben ran his hand through his hair. ‘I swear, I’ve never done a thing to that kid, other than bring her presents and pizza.’

  ‘Aren’t we going after all, Mum?’ asked Jake, coming in from the lounge room. Disappointment lay heavy in his voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, love. Your sister’s being difficult.’ He’d had such a crap day. What a shame. Bloody Abbey.

  ‘Can’t Ben and me go by ourselves?’

  ‘The plan was to give your mum a night out,’ said Ben. ‘Not leave her behind. I’ll go talk to Abbey.’

  Kim followed him to the bedroom, Jake trailing behind them, and pointed to the sleeping bag on the floor.

  ‘Abbey, honey. Come on. We’re all going out for a pub meal.’

  ‘Not me.’

  He moved closer and Dusty growled. ‘Get that dog out of here,’ Ben said to Jake. ‘And teach him some manners while you’re at it.’

  Before Jake could do anything, the sleeping bag began to thrash around and Abbey’s head popped out. ‘Leave Dusty alone. I hate you.’ Her arms emerged next, and wrapped themselves tight around the dog’s neck.

  Ben’s face reddened. ‘Are you going to let her get away with that?’

  Kim guided him gently from the room. ‘Abbey’s had a very rough day. I don’t want to push her. Why don’t I make dinner here? There are chops in the freezer and beer in the fridge.’

  ‘No way,’ said Ben. ‘I said you weren’t going to cook, and I meant it. Come on, Jake. We’ll drive into Wingham, pick up some drinks and take away.’

  It was late, almost midnight. Kim and Ben sat together on the couch in the lounge room, his arm draped lazily across her shoulder. A dying fire lay in the grate. An empty bottle of shiraz stood on the coffee table. Ben topped up their glasses from a second bottle. Now it was empty too.

  The closing scenes of Ghost played out before them. Kim, who hadn’t seen the movie before, was entranced. A dead husband returning to protect his wife. What an intriguing concept. Molly’s grief at Sam’s death was painfully personal, and Kim lived every moment of their tragic love story right along with her. Molly was asking the same questions that Kim had been grappling with for two and half years. Is there an afterlife, and where do lost loved ones go? Will they be okay? Will we all be okay?

  One scene in particular really got to her. The eerie frisson of Sam’s spirit possessing Whoopi Goldberg, so he could share one final dance with the grieving Molly. It moved Kim to tears. Would she recognise Connor if he came back like that? She had no doubt that she would.

  Ben was caught up in the show too, although for different reasons. Ghost wasn’t just a love story. It also meshed crime and action and had some great comic lines. They were lost on her, but Ben was getting plenty of laughs; he seemed oblivious to the way the movie was affecting her. The haunting strains of The Righteous Brothers’ Unchained Melody sounded as the credits rolled. ‘Now that,’ Kim said as she drained her glass, ‘was one amazing love story.’

  ‘We could make an amazing love story of our own, you know.’

  Then Ben’s arms were around her, sure and hard. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, cupping a breast, brushing a nipple. He kissed her with exquisite softness, velvet smooth, his tongue tracing the fullness of her mouth. Then more hungrily as she pressed her lips to his, responding to the passion in his kiss. He tasted of aftershave and wine. She wanted to want him, wanted to be swept away with desire. Wanted to reclaim a libido that she sometimes thought was lost forever.

  Ben’s breath became ragged, and he nuzzled her neck. ‘Come to bed.’

  She let him take her hand and lead her down the hall. When Kim reached Abbey’s door, she hesitated. ‘I should check . . .’

  ‘Shh.’ He tugged at her hand. His simmering urgency swayed her, and she followed him. The curtains were open and the moon shone through, highlighting the bed, leaving the rest swathed in darkness. It didn’t look like her room at all, which was probably a good thing.

  Ben undressed her with extravagant care, as if she were a costly gift. First her shirt. Buttons coming loose, one by one, exposing the soft swell of her breasts, her belly. Her jeans came down. She stepped out of them, on display before him in a black bra and knickers. His gaze roamed admiringly over her body. Surreal, to be an object of desire again. She slipped the T-shirt over his head. Running hands down his muscled chest, his ribbed belly with its trail of fair hair heading south. Making unavoidable comparisons. It was more than a decade since she’d touched a man other than Connor.

  Ben stood stock still a
s she explored his torso, his skin. Undoubtedly a beautiful body, and he knew it. In perfect proportion, pulsing with desire for her. Magnificent. So why did she feel at a loss? Here she stood, almost naked, with this gorgeous man who cared for her. Yet where was the jolt of electricity, the hammer in her heart? Where was the overwhelming need? Instead she felt strangely detached. Flattered, yes. Curious, certainly. But that was all. The only buzz was from the wine. This wasn’t Sam coming back to Molly. Ben was a poor copy of Connor.

  Kim squeezed her palms to her eyes. ‘I can’t do this.’

  He took her hands in his, separated each finger, and kissed the tips, one by one. ‘I know it’s been a while, but don’t worry. We’ll take it slow.’ His voice sounded strange and loud in the dark.

  She jerked away and turned on the light. ‘You don’t understand. I don’t want to. I thought I did, but I don’t.’

  Ben gave her an I-don’t-believe-what-I’m-hearing kind of smile. He stripped off his jeans and fell back on the bed, the picture of lazy confidence. Raising himself on one elbow, he said, ‘We’ve got all night for you to change your mind.’

  ‘No, we don’t.’ Kim pulled on her jeans. ‘I’m serious. You have to leave.’

  His expression shifted from self-assured to disbelieving to astonished. ‘What? You mean you really want me to go?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kim shoved his clothes at him. ‘Could you please get dressed.’ She pulled on a dressing gown and headed for the kitchen to put on the kettle.

  A few minutes later, Ben emerged from the hall, buttoning his shirt – his face stony. ‘If I’d known I was going home, I wouldn’t have drunk a whole bottle of wine.’

  ‘You’re welcome to sleep in the spare room.’

  ‘The spare room.’ Ben shot her a sour, sarcastic smile. ‘You’re a piece of work, you know that?’ He picked up his wallet and keys from the bench. ‘Beauty of Tingo, eh? No booze buses.’