Spring Clean for the Peach Queen

by Sasha Wasley

  ‘Nah,’ he said.

  ‘Is that the truth?’ I pressed him. ‘Are you not lying?’

  ‘I’m not lying. You don’t need to go.’

  ‘I asked if you wanted me to go.’

  He paused – a long pause. ‘Nah.’

  Relief washed through me. ‘Thank you.’

  He shot me a quick look, expecting more questions for him to answer truthfully. Never one to disappoint, I obliged him. ‘Tell me about your marriage.’

  Angus almost seemed relieved. ‘Married and split within a year. The end.’

  ‘There’s more to it than that.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Angus.’

  He gazed at old Bundy snoring softly at our feet. ‘Okay. It was humiliating. Everyone in town was watching. And the settlement didn’t go the way anyone expected. I wasn’t the first guy in town to get divorced, but I was the first to lose his family’s farm over it.’

  ‘You didn’t lose the farm.’

  ‘Near enough.’

  ‘What happened with the relationship?’ I asked. ‘You and Bianca seemed like you’d last – at least more than a year. You were both from farms, both happy, confident kids in school.’

  ‘I was confident?’ he said. ‘I didn’t feel confident. I was just bumbling around like everyone else in high school. I wasn’t starring in school plays or town musicals. I didn’t have an entourage of friends or wannabe friends. I didn’t have Lottie Bentz’s level of confidence.’

  I refused to let him derail my question. ‘I thought you and Bianca would be together forever.’

  He was silent for a long moment. ‘Too young,’ he said at last. ‘We both changed fast after we got married. Bacterial spot hit the orchards and spread like wildfire. I got obsessed. It was all I could think about. I read everything I could to find out how to fix it, and everything I read pointed to ripping the trees out and starting again.’ Angus glanced my way. ‘In a region like this, where people’s orchards have been in the ground for nearly a hundred years, they don’t take kindly to the suggestion that they pull out their trees. Even Dad was hard to convince. I had a lot of run-ins with Colin Dalgety. He was the president of the Orchardist Association – still is. He thought I was full of shit. Some of the growers in town agreed with me and dug out their old trees, treated the soil and replanted with resistant stock, but most of them preferred Dalgety’s approach: treat with chemicals. At that stage, we were all meeting weekly to try to work out what the fuck to do about the problem. Every week it was the same thing, Dalgety up there talking about chemical treatment and me losing my patience with his bullshit, standing up to say it’s all been tried, and the only thing that works is pulling out the tainted trees.’

  ‘They listened to you in the end, though.’

  He laughed bleakly. ‘Nothing worked and their orchards were stuffed. They had no choice but to cut the bloody trees down and buy in resistant rootstock.’

  ‘A victory for science,’ I said.

  Angus’s laugh was genuine this time.

  ‘And what about Bianca?’ I said. ‘She changed, too?’

  ‘Yeah. She was over the peach spot pretty fast. Understandable, since it was all we talked about around here. She decided to go and study business and wanted to start as soon as possible. She applied for a position and got in, but the course was over in Dunbury and she wanted the two of us to move there. She said she could see how miserable the bacterial spot had made me – had made all of us – and moving away would allow us – her and me – to escape. She didn’t understand that I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You can’t just walk away when it’s your family’s farm. I couldn’t leave Dad and Mum to deal with it all on their own.’ Angus dropped his chin onto his fist. ‘Bianca said she’d board with friends in Dunbury and start her course, coming home for the weekends. That lasted three weeks. Then she told me she wasn’t coming home at all.’

  I gave him a moment’s respectful silence. ‘Did it break your heart?’

  He considered his answer.

  ‘No lying,’ I reminded him.

  A half-smile. ‘I felt bad about how my parents would take it, but I’d already started to think Bianca and I weren’t right for each other. Not for the long haul. It was a shock when she broke it off, but I got it. I understood.’

  ‘Until the settlement?’

  He picked up a stick to poke the fire. ‘My father … He seemed to shrivel into a smaller man that day. Like the farm was him, and when they stripped away a chunk of its value, they took a chunk of him as well.’ Angus cleared his throat. ‘I’d tried to explain how the spot had affected production and income but the court probably figured I was scrambling to keep as much of Brooker’s as possible. The previous years’ financials looked healthy, after all. We applied to the bank for a mortgage and then the shitstorm really hit. We had nothing. We were buying farm supplies on account and not paying our bills. Sneaking around, getting our groceries from the bloody charity foodbank. No picking crews, and if something broke that we couldn’t fix, we just had to go without it. We pretended none of it was happening, knowing it was all going to come crashing down at any moment. And that was how it went on until Dad died and the life insurance bailed us out.’

  I blew out a sigh. ‘Wow.’

  He agreed. ‘Not your typical happily ever after.’

  ‘I guess you’ll choose a wife more carefully next time.’

  His mouth twisted in wry amusement. ‘Nice.’

  I shrugged. ‘Just a little reminder.’

  ‘There won’t be a next time.’

  ‘You won’t get married again?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not getting involved with anyone.’

  I stared. ‘What, ever?’ He nodded. ‘Like, a vow of celibacy?’

  He’d been about to nod again but that must have been a blow to his manliness. ‘Not a vow of celibacy. It’s a policy.’

  ‘So, you’ve got a policy never ever to sleep with a woman again?’

  ‘It’s not about sex.’ Angus looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m just never getting involved with anyone again.’

  ‘So, you’ll screw a chick, but not commit?’

  ‘No. I won’t do either. I’m just – not. At all.’

  I drew myself up straight. ‘Angus, that’s stupid. If you got a pre-nup—’

  ‘It’s not just about that. It’s about dragging someone else into this bullshit.’

  ‘What bullshit?’

  ‘The farm. The family. Me.’ He went abruptly quiet. ‘Forget it.’ He twisted around to check where Blue had wandered off to.

  ‘No, you can’t back out of this conversation now. You told me you have this policy. Justify it.’

  ‘Why do you care?’ Angus said it so flatly, it was barely even a question.

  ‘Hey, you can die a lonely, miserable old hermit if you want to. It’s your choice. But you must have a rational reason for it. Why are the farm and you bullshit – a level of bullshit you wouldn’t want to drag a woman into? The bacterial spot’s gone; the mortgage is paid out – the farm is fixed. So, what’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Apart from being a miserable hermit?’ he said. ‘Bad luck follows me around. I lost most of the orchards to a fruit disease. I lost a massive piece of the farm’s value to my divorce. Dad – Dad died. Mum’s got dementia. And I have to try to keep this fucking place going because …’ He gestured hopelessly with one arm.

  The fire popped and Bundy flicked an ear but didn’t open his eyes.

  ‘Because why?’ I said.

  ‘Because it’s Brooker’s.’ Angus scratched a hard line in the dirt with his stick. ‘Founding family, planters of the Olde Peach Tree. The name behind Bonnievale’s stone fruit.’

  ‘You could sell Brooker’s. Your mum would understand. And as for what everyone else thinks – who cares? Move out of town. Go do something you want to do.’

  He tossed his stick into the flames and turned to face me. I wa
ited, trying to ignore how beautiful his dark eyes were in the firelight.

  ‘Brooker’s has to keep going,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a choice.’ There was a full-stop between every word in that last sentence.

  He shifted his gaze to the low flames and despite my annoyance, I suddenly pitied him.

  ‘I saw the poster,’ he said.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The ball poster.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ I sighed. ‘I told them I didn’t want to be recognisable.’

  ‘It looks good, though,’ he said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘You look good in it, Lottie,’ he said again. ‘Really – good.’

  I shook my head. ‘Once this ball’s over, that’s it. I’m not going to be used again – for fun or to make a buck. I’m starting to see that people aren’t interested in me for me. Every bastard just wants his pound of flesh and that poster is proof.’

  A crease was forming in between his eyebrows. ‘Are you worried the media will see it?’

  ‘No, that’s not it. Well, yeah. I suppose it’s that too. But it’s more that my mum’s already furious with me and I don’t want her thinking I’m out there trying to get attention. I mean, it’s my body and my choice, but at the moment, I don’t particularly want to be turning up in sexy posters. Not while Mum’s so pissed at me.’

  ‘The ball poster looks classy, though.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m still a product for consumption, though – classy or not.’ Bloody hell, was I channelling my mother now? Maybe the bits I’d read of her books were sinking in.

  Angus gave a thoughtful nod and we watched as the fire died a leisurely death. Bundy dreamed, his flank twitching where he lay on his side in the deep red glow.

  I thought a lot about Angus’s policy. As much as I wanted to tell him it was insane, the truth was, it wasn’t any different from my list. I’d sworn off acting and makeup; he’d sworn off relationships. The only difference was that he’d been brave enough to use the word ‘ever’, while I was still kidding myself that I’d feel like doing the things on my list again someday. Or maybe that I’d miraculously uncover a worthwhile alternative identity – something my mother could feel proud of.

  I’d told Elizabeth I would give her a lift to Hayley’s place on Thursday evening, but when I got to my parents’ place, she was binge-watching a TV series about serial killers. She told me to make her apologies and it was only my strenuous begging that eventually made her change her mind. Dad chopped vegetables as I waited for Elizabeth to get ready and we discussed the Brookers’ harvest. Mum watered pot plants in the alfresco, obviously unwilling to share the air I breathed.

  Elizabeth manoeuvred her bag’s long strap over her head as we left the house and made a noise between a sigh and a groan. ‘Why are we doing this again? I didn’t think you were close with Liv or Hayley these days.’

  ‘I’m not, but that’s my fault. I didn’t make the effort to stay in touch. I want to reconnect.’ I waited for her to buckle her seatbelt and pulled out of the driveway.

  ‘Did Liv or Hayley make any effort to stay in touch with you?’ Elizabeth’s tone was pointed. ‘How loyal were they, hmm?’

  ‘I should have tried harder,’ I said. ‘The people I thought were close to me in the city didn’t turn out to be real friends.’

  ‘Maybe you need to develop better taste in friends,’ was my sister’s cynical remark.

  However, I was warmed by Hayley’s greeting when she opened her front door and hugged me with a big smile.

  ‘Lottie! Lizzy!’ Liv cheered from behind her. ‘Get your arses inside, girls! Do you want a vodka jelly shot? Oh my God, I made some spiked and some not, then this afternoon I nearly gave an alcoholic one to Cressie by accident.’ She handed me and Elizabeth little plastic cups of green jelly.

  ‘That’s why I won’t have kids yet,’ Hayley said, sucking one down. ‘I keep telling Damien. Too much booze and drugs around our house. We’d accidentally kill our own kid.’

  Liv shot her a glance but didn’t look at me. Accidental drugs death, I realised. That was now an awkward conversational topic that would be associated with me – perhaps forever.

  ‘Where’s Damien tonight?’ I asked Hayley, dragging us past the moment.

  ‘Cricket,’ she said, licking the remaining jelly out of her cup. ‘And he’s not invited anyway.’

  ‘Do you do this regularly?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘Every month,’ Hayley said. ‘There’s usually more of us but a bunch have gone away for the holidays or reckon it’s too busy socially this time of year.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Liv and I are the committed ones.’

  ‘I tell Paul this is my sanity fix,’ Liv said. ‘He knows if I don’t get my monthly Thursday drinks with the girls, I’ll be a cranky bitch.’

  Elizabeth sniffed her jelly. ‘Jesus, this smells strong. Can I have a spoon?’

  ‘A spoon!’ Hayley was outraged. ‘Suck it, woman!’

  We sucked our shots obediently. Liv tried to give us another one straight away but I said I would be driving later, and Elizabeth said she hated jelly shots so they would be wasted on her. Liv and Hayley each took another.

  ‘How are your girls?’ I asked Liv. ‘They’re so cute. They must be on school holidays now, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, since yesterday. Minnie’s pretty chill, but Cress is hard work. Drama queen. I swear, she’s my emo-baby. Mini teenager. She has the worst mood swings. Only Paul, bless him, has the patience to talk her off the ledge when she’s like that. Minnie and I call them her “episodes”.’ Liv pulled a face.

  ‘Paul seems like a good dad.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s pretty good. Come on – champers and music.’ Liv led the charge to the living room, where four glasses sat on the coffee table with a bottle of sparkling wine. She went to Hayley’s phone dock and plugged in her iPhone, hitting shuffle on a playlist titled Partytime! The Black-Eyed Peas blasted out of the speaker while Hayley filled the glasses. Elizabeth took one when it was offered to her, shooting me a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite decode.

  ‘Cheers, girls,’ said Liv, clinking our glasses. ‘So good to have you back in town, Lott. Is it a relief to get away from the media frenzy?’

  Hayley had been singing along to the music but now she fell silent and fixed her stare on me, head still gently bopping.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s a much quieter pace, here.’

  ‘Too quiet,’ Liv said with a roll of her eyes. ‘You’ll get bored soon. If it wasn’t for the girls, I’d move to the city like a shot. There’s fuck-all work for photographers around here. Nothing interesting, anyway.’

  ‘Your work – what I’ve seen – looks really good,’ I said. ‘You should enter contests. Do you do any artistic stuff?’

  Liv dug in her pocket and pulled out a tin of mints. ‘I used to, but artistic photography doesn’t pay the bills.’

  ‘When are you going back to the city?’ Hayley asked me. ‘I mean, don’t you have acting work to get back to?’

  ‘I’m taking a long break,’ I said.

  Hayley tilted her head and squinted. ‘You’re not going back to acting for a while?’

  ‘Not for a while.’ No lying. ‘Never.’

  ‘Never!’ she exclaimed.

  Even Elizabeth stared at me. I busied myself with drinking and when I looked up, Hayley’s face had clouded.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Jai,’ she said. ‘Must have broken your heart, sweetie.’ She sipped her wine, her eyes locked on my face.

  Liv pulled out a packet of rolly papers and opened the mint tin. She used her fingernails to pick chunks of dried leaf from the tin with precision, packing a joint. When she noticed my gaze fixed on her task, she chuckled.

  ‘Whoa, there cowgirl. It’s coming.’ She grinned at Hayley. ‘Lottie was always a stoner.’

  Hayley was still waiting for a reply from me. ‘I heard you and Jai were engaged,’ she prompted, her brown eyes creased in sympathy. ‘I can’t even imagine—�
��

  ‘They weren’t engaged,’ Elizabeth broke in, her tone impatient. ‘They’d only just started seeing each other. You shouldn’t believe what you read in gossip mags.’

  Hayley laughed but I could tell she was offended. I frowned at Elizabeth.

  I could still rescue this reunion. ‘What do you do these days, Hayley?’

  ‘I’m doing reception work at the real estate agency.’

  I couldn’t think of anything worse but smiled and nodded encouragingly. ‘What’s that like?’

  She made a face. ‘Torture. Nah, it’s okay, I suppose. I met Damien there. He’s a selling agent.’

  ‘You work with your boyfriend?’

  ‘Yeah. One of the perks; although it can be a pain in the arse, too.’ Hayley looked at Liv, who was lighting up her joint. ‘I was so pissed off today. That hot settlement bloke came in and Damo was at his desk so I couldn’t even flirt!’

  ‘Damo, you prick,’ said Liv. She sucked on the joint and passed it to me as she breathed out the smoke. ‘Here, Lott.’

  Instead of Liv’s neat, short nails, I saw Jai’s smooth hand passing me a big, fully loaded joint, neon orange at its end. ‘Bazooka?’ he offered – cannabis laced with cocaine. I accepted, sucking hard, failure gnawing around the edges of my heart like the heat eating away at the joint’s tip—

  ‘Lott.’ Liv waved the joint in front of my face.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Liv’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. ‘Wow. You have changed.’

  She offered it to my sister who laughed and said, ‘No way,’ and drank her wine instead.

  Hayley accepted the joint and puffed meditatively. ‘So, you’re back in Bonnievale for the long haul are you, Lottie?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind.’

  Liv relaxed back so she was lying on the rug and gazed at the ceiling, mouthing the words of the song playing on her iPhone. I tried to remember how to be Liv Parnham’s friend. We were close once – and yet, I couldn’t find even a trace of the old me-and-Liv tonight. There must be a way to relate to her. Was there something we had in common or something we could learn about each other? I’d tried talking about her kids, her husband, her work. She’d tried … what had Liv tried? My recent notoriety; my hedonistic past.