by Maya Linnell
Thirty-five
Darkness had fallen by the time Angie arrived home. She jogged across the lawn, mosquitoes teeming around her legs. Violet barked a greeting from the kennel. The calves snickered but the shed was dark and the caravan empty.
She pulled a note from the caravan door.
Out hunting for pigs, Claud is with Mum. Will be a back in a few hours. x R
Hunting was good. Hunting was a sign he was taking the pigs seriously. She wondered if he was out with Brett and sent up a little prayer that they’d arrive home with all their extremities intact. It was too dark to walk, so she drove next door, almost mowing down Rosa’s garden gnomes in her eagerness to collect Claudia. Would she ever get used to days away from her little girl?
Rosa packed them off with a few litres of fresh milk, and Claudia insisted on bringing home a handful of biscuits, even in her sleepy state. Claudia fell back into a deep sleep immediately, but Angie found it impossible to wind down. After an hour of tidying the shed, she forced herself into the shower and then snuggled into Rob’s pillow, breathing in his smell. She’d missed him, missed the closeness they’d shared. Missed the sweet moments when all the stars aligned and Claudia fell asleep in the pram, allowing them to sneak in a little afternoon delight.
The cottage is supposed to bring us together, not tear us apart. I need to tell him I love him, remind him how good we are together. She thought of Rob kneeling by Claudia’s bed, his hair sticking up like a cockatoo’s crest as he finished the final page of The Gruffalo.
The cluckiness Angie had felt watching baby Lucy’s arrival intensified as she thought of the good times they’d shared, the way Rob had cradled Claudia in his arms as a newborn, and never hesitated to give his little girl a shoulder ride, even though she could walk just fine. The way he had taught himself to plait, so he could help tame Claudia’s curls of a morning.
I need to give him more of a chance.
Rob steadied his breathing as he sighted the rifle, not wanting to lose the pig as it ambled along the dry creek bed. There was nothing left of the heavy rainfalls that had fallen mid-summer, not even a puddle, and he felt almost sorry for the animals that relied on the water supply. The big boar stopped by the corn and apples Max had scattered there earlier and scratched itself like a dog before hoeing into the food.
Rob’s finger hovered on the trigger and he worked hard to empty his mind of the shitty day. Shooting wasn’t the occasion for contemplation. A lack of focus and a misfired shot would have that pig running for his life and the night ruined.
‘Still got him in sight?’ said Max, leaning over his shoulder.
‘Course I’ve got him. But I can’t get a clean shot when he’s wriggling. He’ll bugger off if he hears you, so shut up.’
Rob exhaled as he squeezed the trigger. Bang. The rifle reverberated through his shoulder. He squinted through the sight again, pleased he’d hit his mark. Max awaited his nod, then flicked on the torch, lighting their way to it.
‘Nice one. Been practising?’
‘Nope.’
‘Dad’ll be impressed.’
Rob gave a dry laugh. ‘He’d never say I was good at anything. He was always banging on about your shooting instead. Sight it up like Max, shoot us a buck like Max.
‘Pull the other one. Dad always talked about you and your aim. I’d be lucky to hit the side of a shed if I picked up a rifle now. Never could quite match you there.’
Rob shrugged off the comment and sent John a message. Within moments, their dad’s ute appeared in the clearing.
The boar’s legs were still twitching and a host of fleas, ticks and lice scattered for cover as the vehicle’s headlights illuminated the dead animal.
‘Clean shot’s a good shot,’ said John. ‘Get him up in the back, don’t want wild dogs moving in too.’
The beast was heavier than a full-grown sheep, and Rob’s arms sang under the weight as he helped Max manoeuvre it onto the tray. John swung back into the driver’s seat and the brothers resumed their spot on the back of the ute.
‘Won’t hear the end of that in the dairy tomorrow,’ said Max. He put on a stern voice and tucked his chin into his chest, impersonating their father just as he’d done when they were younger. ‘Mark my words, boy.’
Rob didn’t smile, but somehow the scowl he’d reserved for Max over the last decade softened.
‘Took the video to the cop shop. Unless the hunters are trespassing on private land, or shooting your cows, they reckon it’s a Parks and Wildlife issue, not police business,’ said Max.
Rob scratched his stubbled jaw. ‘Figured as much. I’ll keep an eye out for that ute then.’
They drove to the opposite end of the scrub, where Max had scattered another bag of fruit and corn, but an hour’s watch proved fruitless. No doubt every other pig in the forest would be on alert for the rest of the night.
The high of Rob’s clean shot was washed away by dread when he returned to the cottage. The weatherboards were crisp under the moonlight, but each step closer reminded him of their finances. And the only thing more unbearable than telling Angie about it all was keeping it a secret from her.
Angie woke with a start when the caravan door opened. She smiled at the sight of Rob tiptoeing towards the bed and reached for him when he slipped between the sheets.
‘I missed you.’
It felt good to be in his arms again, to breathe in his familiar scent. Her tiredness receded as he told her about the boar he’d shot and the latest footage Max had captured.
‘Who was it?’
‘Dunno, the footage isn’t that clear, but at least we’ve got a pretty distinct ute to look for. And one less pig to worry about.’
‘Hopefully the first of many, and we won’t have this problem again,’ she said.
Angie propped herself up on an elbow, and, with her heart beating double time, shared the idea that had rolled around in her head the whole drive home. ‘I know things have been crazy here, but I’ve been thinking. We’ll be in the cottage soon and all these little niggles will disappear when we move in, won’t they? We could start thinking about another baby?’
She studied his face, but instead of the delight she’d anticipated, he looked away.
‘Let’s not rush into anything until we finish the cottage, okay, Ange? Let the dust settle.’
Angie’s face fell. It felt off kilter to be championing the idea of a second child when Rob had always been the one to raise the topic. ‘Do you mean wait, or not at all?’
Rob rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘I just think we’ve got enough to worry about now.’
He turned away but as they lay in the dark, she could sense sleep was just as elusive for him as it was for her.
Rob woke early, from nightmares full of bank managers hammering sale signs into their lawn and hunters stalking their calves. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and crept out of bed, determined to sort out the budget mess before he went to work for the day.
Sitting on the shed couch, he pulled the laptop onto his knee.
He felt like a jerk for fobbing Angie off last night, but even now, in the pre-dawn darkness, he still couldn’t wrap his head around her sudden change of heart.
The laptop took an eternity to load, each whirring rotation of the cursor seeming to take twice as long as normal.
Rob pulled up the bank web page, and opened their account. Thank god! Rosa’s transfer had cleared and there was money in the account to buy fuel and groceries. The minute the next client’s payment came through, he’d be able to repay it back in full and Ange would be none the wiser. He shut down the laptop and went outside to feed the calves. Things are going to be okay after all.
Rob jumped into his ute and headed into town. His mind was so fixated on the day ahead that he almost didn’t notice the Land Cruiser ute bunny-hopping out of the Port Fairview boat storage yards. He slowed to a crawl and whipped his head around to try to identify the driver, but a stream of oncoming fishing boats blo
cked his view. Was it a woman? He made a swift U-turn but by the time the convoy of fishing boats had passed, the ute was nowhere to be seen. Bugger. Rob whacked the steering wheel so hard it made his wrist ache. He picked up his phone.
Angie walked around the garden, unsure how to start resurrecting her ruined backyard. The pigs had decimated her veggie patch and made a right mess of her back garden. Barely a flower was left, and the bark-chip mulch was spread across the grass. The seedlings could all be replaced, but the damage to her weeping cherry tree hit hard.
She watered the trunk, hoping it’d be strong enough to recover.
Looking across the lawn, she eyeballed the pair of mischief-makers digging in the freshly turned soil. Jayden’s white denim jeans and dinosaur shirt were covered in dirt. Why did Bobbi dress him in good clothes, when she knew he and Claudia would be playing outside?
Angie’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she staked the cherry tree.
Penny’s voice rang down the phone. ‘You won’t believe what Lucy did today, Ange. She smiled!’ said Penny.
‘It’s wind, Pen. They don’t smile for months yet.’
‘Oh, you spoiltsport, that’s what Lara said too.’
Angie wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she listened to Penny’s besotted descriptions of the milk pimples spreading across baby Lucy’s nose.
‘You there, Angie? What did Rob say about the garden getting wrecked?’
Angie shifted the hose to a nectarine tree. ‘We’re barely talking.’
‘God, what’s up with you two? I told you renovations are the death of all happy relationships. Only joking! What about his twin? Found any pigs yet? Diana told me about the video of the park ranger. I nearly burst my stitches, I laughed so hard.’
‘Rob shot a pig a few nights ago, and he’s been out most nights since.’
‘Gah, I don’t know how you do it, Angie-bee: the renos, the gardening, coping with Claudia when Rob’s gone all day and now all night. I can barely get off the couch or do anything other than breastfeeding. I’m starting to understand how Rosa and John’s cows feel.’
A sudden wail came from Oscar’s pram. Angie rocked it, hoping to lull him back to sleep.
‘Tell me that’s not Bobbi’s kids again?’
Angie jabbed the mute button and cooed into the pram.
‘Don’t think I can’t tell you’ve put me on mute, Angie! There were cows mooing and the dog barking down the phone line a minute ago, now it’s complete silence. Fess up!’
Angie sighed. It was no use trying to pull the wool over Penny’s eyes. Her sister knew her better than anyone else.
‘Maybe it is …’ she hedged, after unmuting her phone. Oscar blinked back at her, his pale skin and wide blue eyes so similar to Bobbi’s. There was no way he was going back to sleep.
‘Remember when Diana tore strips off me for stretching myself too thin?’ Penny’s transition from an ambitious corporate career woman to a farm manager several years ago had been fraught with stress and unrealistic expectations until their oldest sister, Diana, had stepped in.
‘And remember when I regurgitated the very same big-sister speech back at you in Eden Creek? Wasn’t it one of the reasons you were so excited to move to Port Fairview? Less on your plate, more time for Claudia and Rob? So why are you bending over backwards to babysit someone else’s kids?’
Angie rolled her eyes. ‘This is different, Pen. We’ve got an agreement. Alex and Bobbi help us with machinery and we do a bit of babysitting.’
‘You’ve had those children every single time I’ve phoned,’ Penny protested. ‘Last week you said you were cutting back.’
Angie jiggled the pram from side to side as Oscar fussed. The incoming call alert buzzed on her phone, and she pulled it away to see Bobbi’s name on the screen.
‘I’ve got to go, Pen. Don’t worry about me. I’m big enough to juggle a few extra things.’
Rob wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder as he trawled the back streets of Port Fairview, peering down each driveway and side street.
‘Whoever was driving the Cruiser ute didn’t look that comfortable behind the wheel. They were bunny-hopping like an L-plater. I’ve covered the south side of town—any luck on Nob’s Hill?’
‘Nothing on Mayfair Street, Quinn Lane or Greene Court. And I’ve had a squiz down the roads off Bayliss Street, both north and south. I’ll try Kingsley Drive. They can’t have gone too far,’ Max said.
‘They’ve got more money than they know what to do with in that neighbourhood. An old FJ45 should stick out like a sore thumb,’ said Rob.
A police car slid into view and Rob dropped the phone like a hot coal, feigning an ear scratch. The policeman, who happened to be the Fairview Seagulls’ opening batsman, lifted a finger from the steering wheel to wave as he drove past. Rob breathed a sigh of relief and decided to pull over rather than push his luck. Max was mid-sentence, and Rob could hear the triumph in his voice.
‘… some wanky joint with three storeys, sprinkler’s doing overtime wetting down the footpath instead of the lawn. Cruiser’s parked down the side. Bingo!’
‘You’ve found it? Three storeys, you say?’
Max repeated his location. ‘Parked beside a black dual-cab with a flat tyre.’
Rob punched the air. ‘You little ripper. That smarmy little bastard.’
‘You know this place?’
‘Sure do. Now do you want to call Parks and Wildlife to dob him in, or shall I do the honours?’
Angie heard the shed door open, and paused midway through helping Claudia into her pyjamas.
‘We’re in here, Rob,’ she called. ‘Get your jim-jams on, Claud, then you can go see Dad.’
Claudia raced out of the bathroom as soon as her top was buttoned, but Angie hung back, wiping down the flimsy bathroom vanity. We won’t be having these poxy vanities or cabinets in the new house, she thought.
Rob appeared in the doorway, barely visible through the bathroom fug, Claudia on his shoulders. No cheap exhaust fans for the new bathroom either, thought Angie, waving the steam away. She gave him a weary smile. Maybe they could smooth things over tonight.
‘How was your day?’ She straightened Claudia’s towel on the drying rack and glanced at her watch before looking back at him.
‘The good news is we’re now the proud owners of a trailer-load of goats. The bad news is we’re still no closer to finding a tiler. All the blokes I called are booked up for a month at least. But guess what—’
Angie tipped her head back and groaned. ‘Goats? Seriously? Aren’t they the Houdinis of the animal world? Why did you buy goats?’
‘I didn’t exactly buy them. Mr Kent forced them on me, but he’s going to pay the other half of the invoice in instalments. Now, brace yours—’
Instalments? ‘Ugh.’ Angie buried her face in her hands. ‘This isn’t good news, Rob. We don’t know anything about goats. You’re too nice for your own good.’
‘Says she who’s been roped into doing all the legwork for the dahlia committee and full-time babysitting for Bobbi.’
‘Give me a break.’ Angie exhaled slowly, grappling with her patience. ‘Anyway, I’ve found us a tiler.’
Rob managed a wan smile. ‘Thank God for that. Local or Warrnambool?’
‘Local. It’s us.’
Rob raised a finger. ‘I don’t do tiling.’
‘Because you can’t or because you won’t? Your dad told me what he said all those years ago. Said he was too harsh.’
‘There was never an apology for that, or all the other times I disappointed him,’ he said sharply.
‘God, do you ever forgive and forget? From what I’ve seen of your dad, he’s not the big bad monster you keep making him out to be. Maybe he could’ve hugged you more as a kid or something, and it probably wouldn’t kill him to say something positive every now and then, but he’s not all bad, Rob.’
She tossed the handtowel in the sink and set her hands on her hips.
Rob’s head pounded as he tucked Claudia into bed, reading the storybook like a robot as he fumed over their conversation. Chip on my shoulder? Max working on my cottage? Jealousy bubbled inside him. The anger he’d felt at Max returned with full force. Bloody snake in the grass.
Rob kissed Claudia goodnight, wheeled his ’69 Triumph Bonneville out onto the driveway and tickled the bike’s carbies. The engine came to life with a quick kick-start. Angie stood in the doorway of the shed, frustration and disappointment in the set of her crossed arms. ‘Another ride?’
Rob nodded as he buckled his helmet, anger merging with shame.
Isn’t this exactly what Dad does? Bury himself in paddock work whenever he and Mum argue? John Jones had a place for everything in his dairy, his house, his machinery sheds and his farm. Heck, even his underwear drawer is probably squared away. Heaven forbid that anything would ever be out of place in his father’s neat, carefully ordered life, especially his emotions. But even realising this, Rob couldn’t fight the urge to avoid more conflict. His news about the Cruiser ute and the pigs could wait. The way him and Ange were going, he’d say something really stupid and ruin everything. He needed space. He needed speed.
‘Trust me, this is the better of two options,’ he said, thundering along the driveway.
Memories of Rob’s first and only tiling experience flashed through his mind as he urged the motorbike faster. He remembered cursing as tiles broke in his hands, and his father’s exasperation as Rob had fumbled with the cutter, applying too much pressure or not enough, ruining expensive tiles at a rapid rate. For every tile Rob’d messed up, Max had cut three perfect ones. For every grout line he’d botched, Max had showcased precision spacing and accuracy.
