by Maya Linnell
‘You look like you’re sizing me up for a coffin, Pen. Where’s your smile, love?’
His left hand rested on hers, warm and steady. Weeks in the hospital had softened his hands; the customary calluses had all but disappeared. His muscles and presence seemed to have shrunk as well, and the outline under the sheets looked like a shell of the strong man who had roared off on the quad bike three weeks ago. And here he is comforting me, thought Penny. She forced a wan smile, unsurprised when it turned into a yawn. She’d had no trouble falling to sleep as rain pounded on the tin farmhouse roof, but it was the 2 a.m. wake-ups and worry-fests that were taking their toll.
‘No coffin required, thank God. Though by the look of that list you’ve got right there, I might need to order one in my size. A girl could die from exhaustion doing all those jobs in a day. That’s if I could read your left-handed writing.’
Angus picked up his notepad.
‘The physio reckons it’ll get neater. And these are the jobs for the next month, not the week. Just give it to Tim, he’ll know what to do.’
Penny gritted her teeth at Tim’s name and wondered why Angus wasn’t furious at his and Lara’s plan for the farm. She opened her mouth to ask him how he felt about the proposed sale when loud footsteps echoed along the corridor.
Penny looked up to see Lara leaning against the doorframe. She greeted Angus with a smile that didn’t make its way to Penny. Instead, Penny received a look that was as tight as the bun that held her sister’s hair hostage, a hint of challenge still lingering in her red-rimmed eyes. Penny stayed in her seat, determined not to be rushed out the door again as her sister walked in.
‘Are you okay, Lara? You look like death warmed up.’ Angus reached out and Penny watched her flinch at his gentle touch.
‘I’m fine. It’s nothing.’
Lara leaned in to kiss his cheek. As she straightened up, Penny saw a purple shadow on her white skin, more vivid than those on their father’s body. Curiosity trumped anger as she watched Lara discreetly tug her shirt down. How can she afford that fancy cupping therapy when she can barely afford to rent a decent house? Would have thought she’d turn her nose up at natural therapies.
‘How’s it going in here, Dad? Sick of these four walls yet?’
Lara stood by the side of the bed, blocking Penny’s view. Her athletic body was toned under the thin layer of lycra and Penny wondered whether she ran just so her body was exhausted enough to sleep. If my conscience was as guilty as hers, I wouldn’t sleep a wink.
‘I’ve wooed all the nurses with my rugged country charm, scoffed as much hospital food as one man can stomach and reread all the newspapers cover to cover. So yes, I guess you could say I’ve almost outstayed my welcome.’
‘Hate to break it to you, Dad, but I think you’ll be in for a few more months yet,’ said Penny, leaning around Lara to meet Angus’s eye.
Lara turned with a scowl.
‘Give him some credit, Penny. Dad doesn’t need negativity.’
‘That’s rich coming from you, Lara.’
‘Righto, righto, girls. Give it a rest.’
Angus tapped his pen on the table. ‘We all know you can’t flog a dead horse.’
Penny stood up, wary of the defeat in Angus’s voice and sick of Lara blocking her view.
‘I’ve got loads of time to think in here. Maybe Lara’s right. I’ve got Buckley’s chance of running the farm anymore. It isn’t much good to me if none of you girls are interested in farming.’
Lara lit up. ‘I knew you’d see reason, Dad.’
Penny shook her head slowly, disbelief weighing on her shoulders.
‘I never thought I’d hear you say that. You love McIntyre Park.’ She watched him turn his head away to look out the window, but she knew his mind was 150 kilometres south.
‘Let’s explore all the options before you make that call. Please, Dad.’
Penny slipped past the nurse’s station. She turned the handle of his door, finding Angus asleep. Late afternoon sunshine glowed through the large window, forming a golden square on his pillow that matched his yellow bruises. A posy of pink roses from Diana’s driveway sat in a fresh vase next to a box of chocolates. Penny tossed a bag of wrinkly red grapes into the wastebasket. She knew who had delivered them and was pleased she hadn’t been visiting at the same time.
She watched her father’s peaceful breathing. His earlier comments had surprised her. Yes, he’s pretty injured and yes, it’s true none of us have pursued a career in farming. But to even consider Lara’s stupid suggestion? Outrageous.
‘Penny. You came back,’ said Angus, his voice low and sleep-addled. ‘Angie just left.’
‘I’m only dropping you in some food. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’ He closed his eyes, a smile on his mouth. She walked towards the door, but his sleepy voice continued the conversation.
‘You’re a good daughter, Penny, always were. Used to think you’d run the farm. My little country girl, grown up to be a city woman. If anyone could do it, you could.’
Penny spun around, her heart hammering in her chest. His eyes were still closed, the only sound in the room the ticking of the cheap clock he’d asked her to buy. She watched his chest rise and fall as he slipped back into sleep, the smile still lingering on his lips. Penny’s little twitch suddenly sprang to life again, flickering under the skin by her temples. Was there a grain of truth in his semi-lucid ramblings? As a farmer’s daughter, I make a pretty good marketing executive, but that’s about the extent of it. She’d closed the door on that life long ago … hadn’t she?
Forty-one
Penny packed away the mop bucket and powered up her laptop, the smell of Pine O Cleen lingering on the freshly washed floors and polished benchtops. It had taken longer than she expected to whip the farmhouse back into a tidy state, stopping to study little mementos as she swept, mopped and dusted each room. Annabel’s sewing basket was overflowing with half-finished projects that had been rifled through but not returned to the cupboard. Last year’s Christmas cards sported six months of dust on the mantelpiece. Dog-eared farming brochures seemed to have multiplied in her father’s absence.
But the real rabbit’s hole had been the old photo album lying open on a coffee table in the master bedroom. Penny had lost an hour leafing through the pages, a smile tugging at her lips as she saw more photographs of her young self in overalls, in murky swimming pools, on horseback and in school concerts. Annabel’s striking figure jumped off the page as she hugged her children, smiled for the camera and hammed it up with Angus. There were candid family photos, passport photos, school photos and a ghastly formal family portrait that had thankfully never reached the lounge room wall.
A batch of new emails jostled for her attention as soon as the laptop had fired up.
Georgie’s email address was well represented. Penny opened the latest message, feeling guilty for neglecting her work emails in the wake of Angus’s accident.
Dear Penny,
I hope your father is recovering. Assuming you received the bouquet of flowers from Boutique Media … ? I need to discuss your return from leave. Charlotte Harris has kindly offered to step into your role if you’re no longer interested. Her work is receiving high praise from clients and colleagues alike. Can you please call me?
Georgie
Penny frowned as she reread the email. She’d extended her leave after the accident, but not once did she tell Georgie she was uninterested in the promotion. She rushed to the telephone, punching in the number she knew off by heart.
‘Boutique Media. Anna speaking.’
‘Anna, it’s Penny. Is Georgie at her desk, please?’
‘Hey, Penny. I haven’t heard from you in ages. How are things with you?’
The young woman’s voice sounded perkier and more confident than Penny remembered, and she felt pleased for her assistant. Anna seemed to have come a long way since the Valentino dress and coffee catastrophe.
‘Excellent thanks, Anna. Dad’s
recovering from his operations and I’m strong as an ox.’
‘All … right …’ Anna’s voice faltered, then lowered. ‘To tell you the truth, I’d heard otherwise. I thought you’d be back by now, but Charlotte said you were going downhill again.’
Penny spluttered, sending a jet of tea across the dining table.
‘Charlotte Harris? Downhill? That’s ridiculous. My dad was in an accident, that’s why I’ve been away longer. I’ve barely even spoken to Charlotte since she began with Boutique Media.’
Penny strode to the sink for a cloth, hearing the hesitation in her PA’s reply.
‘Given the client complaints, she thought you needed more time to recover, get back on the ball.’
Penny sat down at the dining table, tossing the dishcloth at the puddle of tea she had slopped across the worn surface.
‘What complaints? Is this Candid Camera or something?’ She had managed to push Charlotte to the back of her mind for the last few weeks, but hearing the woman’s name made her angry again.
‘Put me on with Georgie. I’ve got to sort this out.’ Penny fumed, trying to make sense of the conversation.
‘Penny, darling. I’ve tried to call several times. The home phone rings out and your mobile is always switched off.’ Georgie tutted down the phone line and Penny scrambled to adopt a professional tone.
‘Georgie, I feel like there’s been a miscommunication. I haven’t received any flowers from Boutique Media, I’m not going downhill as some people seem to think and I know nothing about this alleged complaint.’ Her words came out fast and firm. ‘Please fill me in.’
Penny’s temper surged as Georgie outlined her understanding of the situation and the incorrect details of her health and priorities, as reported by Charlotte.
‘The client complaint was only verbal, mind you, and you can’t shoot the messenger. Charlotte has been invaluable in your absence, Penny. You would get along well if you made an effort, darling.’
Penny glared at the phone.
‘Vince knows her well enough for the both of us, Georgie. We certainly won’t be sharing an office when I get back. I can’t believe she’d stoop this low.’
‘Let’s not allow a little indiscretion to get in the way of what’s good for Boutique Media. You were very focused on that promotion and still have an excellent shot at it. Do you still want to apply?’
It was Penny’s turn to hesitate. Hercules’s woolly head bobbed past the kitchen window as he careened around the backyard. She stood up and shut the photo album on the far end of the table, carefully constructing a reply in her head before speaking.
‘I most certainly do, Georgie. I don’t plan on giving up my city life or everything I’ve ever worked for. I’m trying to find a way of keeping things here afloat too, if you’ll allow me to make a few special requests?’
Undeterred by Georgie’s hesitant response, Penny took a deep breath and began to outline her plan.
Dry food rattled into the dog bowls. Penny gave each of the kelpies a pat as she chained them up for the evening. Afternoon rain had filled their water bowls to the brim and she tucked the food bowls under their kennel verandahs to stop them getting waterlogged.
Penny dodged puddles as she passed the machinery shed and skirted around the house yard to the chook house. She swapped two scoops of grain and a bucket of kitchen scraps for several fresh eggs. Light rain danced on the strong wind, masking the sound of the car until it had pulled up into the driveway. Penny squinted against the rain and wind, her shirt folded up like a pouch to hold the eggs. Between the wisps of hair blowing over her face, she could just make out the shiny boots, cream moleskins and white shirt of their visitor.
‘Can I help you?’
She walked towards him, abandoning the direct route to the porch that offered respite from the weather. Penny wasn’t in the habit of inviting strangers into the house, especially ones who looked like they were trying to replicate an R.M. Williams catalogue. The man raised a clipboard over his head to protect his neatly parted hair and stuck out a hand. Penny stared at it.
‘Sorry, I haven’t got a free hand. I’m Penny McIntyre. Who are you after?’
‘G’day. Joe from Western District Property Valuations. I’m doing an assessment and valuation of McIntyre Park.’
‘You’re kidding me? You heard Dad was in an accident, did you? Thought you’d better get in early? You can nick off, you vulture.’ The eggs clinked as she took a step towards him, wanting to slap the tape measure from his belt loop.
He inched back towards the squeaky-clean car, his hand fumbling with the keys as he eyed her warily.
‘It’s okay, Pen, he’s got an appointment,’ said Angie, stepping out from the passenger’s side. Penny gawked at her younger sister.
‘Angie?’
‘Lara organised the valuation, but she was called into work. She asked me to come instead.’
Penny clutched the eggs to her body, trying to fathom how Lara had sucked Angie into doing her dirty work.
‘She can’t just bulldoze Dad into selling. We haven’t explored the options yet. I wouldn’t put it past Lara to pull a stunt like this, but I can’t believe you’d go along with it, Angie.’
Angie swiped the rain from her face, avoiding Penny’s eye.
‘Just let him do his job without a scene. Then we’ll all know where we stand.’
‘Where we stand? I’ll tell you where we stand, Angie. On fourth-generation McIntyre land. This soil is practically running through our veins, whether we like it or not. I don’t know where Lara’s bank account is sitting, or yours for that matter, but obviously those dollar signs are clouding everyone’s judgement.’
Forty-two
Penny sipped at the wine, aware the likelihood of Angie joining her was declining as rapidly as the level of sauvignon blanc in her glass. An hour had passed since she had texted her sister a peace offering.
No use waiting any longer, or I’ll be finishing that bottle of wine for dinner. Penny took hold of the borrowed Tupperware dish and loaded it into the microwave.
Whether Mrs Beggs’ ‘apricot royale’ casserole contained chicken or pork was a mystery, but the smell made her mouth water in anticipation. Penny looked dolefully at the two places she had set and spooned a portion onto just one plate as the back door slammed. Relief washed over her. Thank God. For a minute I thought she’d actually sided with Lara.
‘Better late than never—I thought you’d gone to the dark side, Angie,’ Penny said, her frown clearing to a smile as she pulled the empty plate towards her.
Tim shook the rain off as best he could, but he continued to drip across the laundry floor as he padded inside the farmhouse. His stomach growled as he inhaled the smell. It was like walking into Nanna Pearl’s kitchen when she dished up her famous hotpot. Penny stood with her back to the laundry, dishing up food. Plastic freezer containers filled the sink instead of saucepans and chopping boards. He smiled at the pile of gravy-soaked green capsicum on a side plate. Whoever had cooked those meals mustn’t have known about her dietary preferences. He pulled himself up and dropped the smile. You don’t know much about her either these days, Patterson.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Mac. I’m just after Pete’s phone number, I need him to give me a hand.’
Tim watched Penny turn. It wasn’t hard to read her expression. He glanced across and saw the table set for two. Whoever she was expecting, it certainly wasn’t him. Water beaded down his saturated shirt, but it felt colder inside the farmhouse than out in the pouring rain. He’d avoided her all week, limiting farm updates to text messages and bringing his lunch box to work, but he couldn’t skip this visit. A flat phone battery, a bogged ute and a busy schedule had made sure of that.
‘You? I’m still not happy with you, Tim. Especially when you’re dripping all over my clean floor,’ she said, pointing a finger at the puddle of water pooling beneath him. He shoved his hands into his back pockets, mopping the damp spot with his odd socks.
‘I figured. Are you going to let me explain, or just trust the rumour mill?’
He watched her pinch the bridge of her nose and saw the fight go out of her features.
‘Don’t bother. It’s a moot point, seeing the farm isn’t even for sale. Let’s just leave it. What do you need help with?’
Tim’s eyebrow flickered. Her reaction was a lot more restrained than her earlier take on the topic. He watched her stick her chin out a little higher, a measure of steel underlining her quiet words.
‘Ute’s bogged in the paddock behind the shearing shed. Pete’ll have to yank me out with the tractor.’
‘You don’t need Pete. I’ll grab a jacket.’
Tim wrapped his large hand around his chin.
‘You driven a tractor anytime recently?’ He studied her face. ‘How about you steer the ute, and I’ll hop on the tractor?’
Penny drew herself up taller as she walked towards him, her nose reaching the top of his shoulders. She tilted her head to look directly at him.
‘Just like riding a bike.’
The tone of her voice brooked no further discussion. Tim watched in surprise as she skirted around his puddle towards the coat rack, and pulled on Angus’s Driza-Bone. She tucked her hair up into a beanie and tugged on a pair of elastic-sided workboots, the first time since high school that he’d seen her wearing anything other than fancy labels or perfectly pressed seams. Although he was still angry with her, he felt another tug of attraction as he watched her slip back into her old skin. He pulled his damp boots on and held the door open for her. ‘Some things you only need to be taught once, then you’ve got it for life,’ she said, ducking under his arm and looking a hell of a lot like the determined teenager he once knew.
Penny pulled into the parking spot close to the top of the ridge and tugged at the ute’s handbrake. She looked up at the rocks towering above her. From a distance, the mountain range appeared blue, but up close it unfolded as a patchwork of chocolate, ochre, slate and toffee, peppered with little outcrops of vivid green and bravely balancing boulders.
