Blackpeak Station (7 page)

‘Well … you know …’

Charlotte shook her head.

Kath smiled to herself. ‘Never mind, dear. He’ll get round to it, you’ll see.’

The crunch of truck wheels on gravel sounded right on cue for lunch. Through the kitchen window, Charlotte could see a blonde, sweet-faced girl laughing with Jen as they got their bags out. She smothered a small stab of jealousy.

‘They’re here,’ she warned Kath.

‘Oh good. I’ll put the veggies on.’

Jen walked in, looking happier than Charlotte had seen her in months. She was followed closely — and rather shyly — by her friend.

‘Hello,’ said Zoe tentatively. ‘It’s a beautiful place you’ve got here.’

‘Hello dear,’ bustled Kath. ‘Did you have a good trip? I hope you’re both hungry. We’re just waiting for Rex and Matt to come in, and then we can eat. So you’re from Christchurch, are you, Zoe?’

‘Yes — at least, I am now. I’m from Wellington, originally — Jenny and I went to school together there.’

Jenny? thought Charlotte, in amazement. Seriously?

‘Oh really? That’s nice. I always think how nice it is to keep in touch with friends from school. Charlie never sees any of hers, do you dear?’

‘No,’ said Charlotte stiffly, wishing Kath would shut up for half a second.

‘Well, the place doesn’t seem to have fallen apart while I
was gone.’ Jen’s voice was bright. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Fine — I only got back myself yesterday.’

‘Oh, right. How was the ski trip?’

‘Great.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ve made up Nick’s room for Zoe — it’s all ready.’
Guest-loving
Kath was in her element.

‘Oh.’ Jen looked embarrassed. ‘Actually, I, um … we thought Zoe’d stay in my room.’

‘Yes, of course, if that’s what you want.’ Kath looked flustered. ‘But there’s only one bed in there.’

There was silence in the kitchen. Jen looked down, avoiding Charlotte’s gaze. On the stove, a pot lid began to rattle.

‘Oh look, here are Rex and Matt!’ exclaimed Kath in relief. ‘You make the introductions, dear — I just need to drain those carrots.’

After lunch, Zoe volunteered to help Kath with the washing up, and at last Jen met Charlotte’s eye.

‘You, er, wouldn’t mind giving me a hand with the rest of the bags, would you mate?’

Charlotte followed her out to the ute. The back seat was pretty well loaded up — just how long was Zoe staying?

‘So,’ said Jen.

‘So you’re gay.’

Jen scanned Charlotte’s face. ‘Yeah … I guess I should have said something before.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Well, to be honest, at first I thought it was none of your business. And then …’ She grimaced. ‘I didn’t want things to get weird. You know, like they are now.’

‘Hey.’ Charlotte shouldered a bag. ‘You were right — it’s none of my business.’

‘Don’t be like that. Please.’

Jen sounded so hurt, Charlotte turned. To her horror, Jen looked close to tears. ‘I don’t want things to change,’ she said, in a very small voice.

Charlotte put the bag down and hugged her. ‘Of course nothing’s going to change!’ She held Jen back by the shoulders and smiled into her eyes. ‘Why would it?’

‘How long did you say Zoe was staying for?’ Kath asked Jen, nonchalantly, a week later.

‘She didn’t,’ said Charlotte pointedly.

‘Yeah …’ Jen shifted in her chair. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You know, things’ve been going really well with Zoe and me. Really well.’

Charlotte braced herself. How bad could it be? Another week? Two?

‘The thing is … well, we’ve talked about it, and …’ Jen took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want Zoe to go. At all.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding!’

The words were out before Charlotte’s brain had engaged. They were followed by a silence.

‘I think I hear Rex calling me.’ Kath scurried for the door.

‘Zoe said you wouldn’t be cool with it.’ Jen shook her head, staring down at the table. ‘She thinks you don’t like her.’

‘That’s got nothing to do with it,’ evaded Charlotte. Sure, Zoe was needy and nervy and talked too much, and Charlotte couldn’t for the life of her see what Jen was doing with her, but that wasn’t the point. ‘Come on, don’t you think her moving in is a bit much?’

‘No,’ snapped Jen. ‘I don’t. If Matt wanted his girlfriend to move in, you wouldn’t have a problem with that.’

‘I damn well would,’ Charlotte snapped right back. ‘Besides, Matt hasn’t even got a girlfriend.’

‘Hardly surprising, since he’s stuck out here all the time.’

‘Hey, no one made you come here.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You chose to live here, so don’t moan about it now.’

‘All very well for you to say, with Rob Booty-Call on speed dial.’

There was a dangerous silence.

‘Like I said, you made your choices,’ said Charlotte icily.

‘So maybe I’ll choose to move on.’

‘If that’s what you want.’

Jen leaned back in her chair and rubbed her hands over her face. ‘It’s not what I want. You know that. But what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to lose Zoe.’ She sighed. ‘Christ, I’ve had enough of being alone.’

‘But you’ve got me,’ argued Charlotte. ‘And Rex and Kath and Matt.’

‘I’m a lesbian, mate, not a nun.’

‘Do you love her? Really?’

‘
Really
? God, Charlie.’ Jen groaned with exasperation. ‘Of course I do. Zoe and I go way back.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not all shagging and ski jackets, you know. Nobody gets everything they want. One day you’ll understand that.’

Charlotte very much hoped she wouldn’t. But Jen was giving her such a strange, sad look she didn’t have the heart to say so. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘She can stay. If it means that much to you.’

‘It does.’ Jen smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t be up here in your hair all the
time. I’ll move back into the cottage.’

Charlotte nodded. Through the kitchen window, she watched Jen walk away. Was she just being childish? Not liking the new girl at school stealing her best friend? Was there really anything wrong with Zoe?

High above Jen’s small figure, the hills were thick with snow, and the dark cloud rising over their shoulders was heavy with more to come. She swallowed the last of her cooling tea and went out to feed the horses.

By the time she got back it was almost four o’clock, and dark. In the kitchen, the phone was ringing.

‘Things are crazy at work,’ Rob groaned. ‘You leave people alone for two minutes and it’s amazing the mess they can get themselves into.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Charlotte said drily.

‘Ah. Everything okay?’

‘Kind of.’

‘Want to get away for the night?’

‘Love to.’

‘Great — I’ll see you when you get here. You can tell me all about it.’

Charlotte sighed gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

‘No worries. I’ve missed you.’

Rob reacted to her news with gratifying horror. ‘You’re not paying her, are you?’ he demanded, pouring them both a large glass of wine.

‘God, no. That’s Jen’s problem.’

‘Just as well. That’s the last thing you need!’

‘What do you mean?’

He hesitated, chewing his lip. ‘Okay. You’re not going to want to hear this. But I’ve got to say it.’

‘What?’

‘Nick finishes uni this year, right?’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘So he’s going to need an income.’ Rob sat beside her on the sofa, putting his hand on her knee. ‘Babe, there are only so many salaries Blackpeak can pay.’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘We’ve always run with this many hands.’

‘At the moment, yeah. But Nick makes one extra. And you know how things are,’ he added gently, ‘there just isn’t the money for that.’

It was true. Charlotte felt sick. How could she not have seen this? ‘But Nick was always coming home this year,’ she said. ‘Dad must have had some kind of plan.’

‘Your father hardly drew much on the farm — he had his investment income. But now that’s been divvied up between you and your mum, all Nick has to live on is Blackpeak.’

She brightened. ‘Okay, so I don’t draw a salary, then.’

Rob bit his lip again. ‘It’s not that simple. Even if it was okay for you to work Nick’s farm for no pay — which it seriously isn’t — you can’t touch your trust till you turn twenty-five. Andrea and the other trustees are in charge of the lot until then.’

‘So what are you saying — we’ll have to let someone go?’

Rob just looked at her.

‘But we can’t get rid of Rex and Kath … Matt earns bugger all anyway, and Jen doesn’t get much more.’ Charlotte put her wine down, thinking of Nick’s taste in shoes. ‘I can’t see Nick living on those wages …’

‘Charlie.’ Rob took both her hands and spoke very quietly. ‘Are you sure your brother had really thought things through when he said you could manage the station?’

Chapter
SEVEN

Charlotte ran her binoculars over a small mob of sheep on the ridge above her. The early spring sun was warm on her back — it was only the first week of September, but already the snow had gone from all but the deepest pockets of the foothills, and down on the flats the willows were greening. Below, out of sight, she could hear Jen’s dogs as they picked up the mob her own team had sent scurrying down.

Carrick Fergusson and one of his shepherds were over from neighbouring Glencairn Station, making six hands in all for the Blackpeak muster. Glencairn’s ewes were already moving through the shearing sheds, and by the time this muster was over, the shearing gang would be ready to move on to Blackpeak. Charlotte looked at her watch. Kath and
Zoe would be in town by now, stocking up for the twenty hungry mouths about to descend. She grinned. The gangs loved the Blackpeak shear — Kath’s tucker was famous.

The thought of it made Charlotte’s stomach rumble. It was only half-past ten, but she’d eaten her breakfast four hours ago. Still, at least there was a good meal to look forward to tonight — that was the good thing about the spring muster. The sheep were low on the winter blocks, and even those musterers on the top beats could get back to the homestead at the end of every day. And in the meantime, of course, there were Kath’s sandwiches to see her through.

As she watched Tinks work the ewes down from the ridge, she felt a glow of pride. Tinks was the least experienced dog on the hill, but she was going like a champion today. Charlotte raised the radio to her mouth to let Jen know the next mob was on its way, and smiled as a string of abuse crackled up after the ‘okay’.

‘Get away back! … Shit! … sorry, Charlie.’

‘Mob coming down the left ridge, Charlie.’ Carr Fergusson’s voice cut in.

‘Okay, Carr.’ She scanned the opposite ridge. ‘Yep, got ’em.’ She whistled Tinks down and sent her winging up the gully to get in behind the descending sheep. Tinks knew enough to do the rest herself.

‘Last mob before lunch,’ came Carr’s voice, an hour and a half later. ‘Coming through the gully.’

The sheep came down quickly. Charlotte made a rough mental tally. That made about four hundred for the morning — not bad. And all of them looking fitter and fatter than she could remember. The winter had been unusually mild. It was going to be a good year. She called the last mob down to Jen and settled herself down on the springy tussock, stretching out her legs and rummaging for her lunch. The
dogs crowded round, panting and eyeing the food.

She was woken from her lunchtime nap by a chorus of frenzied barking — the signal that work was about to get underway. Up on the top beat, Carr would bark his dogs up when he was ready, and each musterer down the hill would repeat the signal for the next man. They could, of course, have used their radios — but there were few enough of the old traditions left, and besides, you couldn’t accidentally switch your dogs off.

Charlotte counted through another four hundred ewes during the afternoon, which, if Rex had managed about the same on the Rough Creek block, put them right on schedule for the three-day muster. The light was starting to fade as she began the long trek down. Jen, Matt and Owen, Glencairn’s other man, were waiting at the utes, their dogs sprawling exhausted in the grass. In the paddock in front of them, the day’s take grazed easily. The merinos were at their most docile at this time of year, used to people and dogs after months of feeding out and with no lambs at foot yet to fear for.

Charlotte greeted the cold can of beer Matt handed her like a long-lost friend. She could see Carr and his dogs coming down the beat now, and she bet Rex wasn’t going to be far behind. He might be the oldest man on the hill, but he was as fit as any of them.

‘Pretty good day,’ observed Jen, propped up on one elbow on the back of the truck.

‘Yep.’ Charlotte grinned at Owen. ‘You’ll be home by Saturday at this rate.’

Owen smiled back. ‘No hurry.’

He probably meant it. It wasn’t just Rex’s reputation and Kath’s food that drew willing workers to Blackpeak these days — to some, a woman in charge of a station was still a
bit of a novelty, Charlotte knew, and old-timers like Owen relished the chance to see what she was up to. Every day they worked with her and Jen had the makings of a good story.

Touch wood, though, this season it would just be Zoe keeping the occupants of the Wrightsons tent amused at the next A&P show. Last night, Owen had nearly choked on his beer when she’d asked if she could help with pregnancy scanning the wethers.

‘What did I say?’ Zoe had appealed to the table, nonplussed.

‘Wethers are male,’ Jen had snapped, looking mortified.

‘Oh!’ Owen had wiped his eyes. ‘I would like to see you try, though, love.’

Then, after dinner, Zoe had gotten on to Kath’s catering plan for the shearing gang. ‘But it’s all meat,’ she’d protested to the kitchen at large, looking the long list over.

Staring at her, Owen had taken a long, slow swallow of beer. ‘Shearers don’t go too well on grass, love. Believe me, Carr’s tried.’

Charlotte and Jen had exchanged a quick look of amusement — as much at Owen’s blissful ignorance of the other meaning of ‘grass’, which the odd shearer had in fact been known to go pretty well on, as at his joke — but Zoe had caught it and, instead of laughing Owen off, had chosen to turn sulky.

‘You shouldn’t eat red meat more than twice a week,’ she’d declared, her chin in the air.

‘You reckon? What’s a bloke supposed to eat the rest of the time, then?’

‘Vegetables.’

‘What — on their own?’

‘There are other proteins, you know. Actually, I try to cook vegan one night a week. Last Thursday I made pad thai
with spinach and silken tofu. It was really good.’

‘Silk and what?’

‘It’s a sort of soya bean curd,’ Zoe had explained.

Owen — and, to be honest, Rex, Kath, Matt and Charlotte herself — had stared at her in horror.

‘Oh, for God’s sake. It wouldn’t kill you to eat something different. Something healthy, instead of’ — Zoe had gestured angrily at the bones on the bench — ‘great slabs of dead animal three times a day.’

There’d been a shocked silence, during which Owen had thoughtfully sipped his beer before declaring, ‘Love, there’s some things worse than dying.’

Charlotte had had to laugh — everyone had done, even Jen, who’d presumably actually eaten the stuff Zoe was describing. Well, everyone except Zoe, who’d called it a night about then and taken herself off home.

Poor Zoe. Remembering the look on her face, Charlotte shook her head, then sighed and stretched and finished her beer. That girl really didn’t know how to handle a hard time.

Snarling and bickering erupted as Carr arrived with his dogs, and was quickly curtailed by a few choice words. By tomorrow, the pack order would be settled. The dogs, like their masters, were there to do a job and knew it.

‘That young header of yours is coming along,’ said Carr, earning himself a huge smile from Charlotte.

‘Yeah, she’s had a good day.’

‘About time you got here,’ teased Jen as Rex arrived, reaching into the chilly bin and handing him a beer.

‘You can take the top beat tomorrow, eh, and we’ll see how quickly you get down.’

Everyone else had another beer to keep Rex company before they all piled into and onto the trucks and headed home. Kath and Zoe had dinner waiting for them.
Thankfully
there was no tofu in sight, and neither Charlotte nor anyone else, she thought, looking round, was disappointed by the meal.

‘Oh, Rob called for you, Charlie,’ Kath remembered, slicing into a giant lemon meringue pie.

Charlotte squirmed. She hadn’t been avoiding Rob — not exactly. It was just so much easier to forget she had anything to worry about when he wasn’t there to remind her.

‘You’re angry with me,’ he’d said, as she’d got up to leave two hours before dawn on that freezing winter morning.

‘No,’ she’d told him. If she was angry with anyone, it was her father — how typical of him to make sure that nobody got what they wanted. ‘I just need to get home. I have to feed out. And do some thinking.’

But she’d been thinking for over three weeks now and, short of winning the lottery, Charlotte still hadn’t come up with a plan. Maybe, she told herself, it would all just work out. Rob didn’t know Nick. And the station looked set for a bumper lambing. Higher birth weights, fatter lambs. There could be a fall in the dollar, a spike in the wool price. All that might buy her another year.

She stretched her aching legs and looked around at Rex and Kath, Jen and Matt, the walls of the kitchen she’d known her whole life. It just didn’t seem possible that she might have to leave it.

Saturday came, the end of the muster, and still the weather held. Two weeks without rain. The snow-melt had drained, and the river was low. Already, people were talking of drought, and Charlotte thanked God that Blackpeak was ready to shear — but if the drought came, it would be bad for the lambs and bad for the wool next year.

Right now, however, there was grass enough on the irrigated flats, and the sheep were keen to stop and graze it. The musterers had to push hard to keep them moving across the paddocks to the yards. It was slow work, and it took its toll on muscles and on tempers. But in a few more hours it would all be done, and the shearing gang — due to arrive tonight — would take over in the morning. Watching the sea of woolly backs up ahead, Charlotte felt the glow of a job well done.

Blackpeak had covered yards for a thousand sheep. The rest would wait their turn in the paddocks around the woolshed, and in another week, all five thousand would be shorn. After that, the in-lamb ewes would be set on the last of the winter feed and the best of the new grass — if it came — until they dropped their lambs and the summer months opened up the higher grazing. Their wool, meanwhile, would be pressed and baled and on its way to Christchurch for the sales. Just cause, Charlotte thought, for tonight’s little celebration.

She’d given Rex the day off to organise the spit roast, and by the time Charlotte had showered and changed and got down to the shearers’ quarters that night, it was smelling pretty damn good. There was music blasting out of someone’s boom box and a knot of shearers around the keg. Charlotte looked around for a face she knew. Spotting Owen’s, she strolled over.

‘Do I know you?’ he teased, taking in her clean jeans and jumper.

Jen joined them. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey. Where’s Zoe?’

‘Still getting ready.’ Jen rolled her eyes.

‘Typical woman,’ said Owen, forgetting he was talking to two.

‘No such thing,’ muttered Jen, with an edge to her voice.

‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing. Never mind.’

‘Can I get you two ladies a drink?’

‘Sure can.’

‘What’s up with you?’ Charlotte asked when Owen had sloped off to the keg.

‘Nothing,’ said Jen, defensive.

‘Did you and Zoe have a fight?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Not particularly.’ Jen sighed heavily. ‘I’m becoming a redneck, apparently. All I care about is sheep.’

‘Well, she can’t say that,’ Charlotte grinned. ‘What about dogs and cattle?’

‘Don’t you laugh. You’re one too. In fact, if you really want to know, you’re worse than I am.’

‘Too right. So what brought all that on?’

Jen grimaced. ‘You should have seen what she wanted to wear over here.’ She rolled her eyes again. ‘Red silk high heels. With bows. Can you imagine?’

Charlotte could — she’d delivered the mail order box and been forced to stay and admire them. ‘What did you say?’

‘I just
suggested
she should try and fit in a bit more. She went ballistic.’

‘Here you go, girls!’ Owen thrust two plastic cups at them. ‘Get that down you.’ He grinned at Jen. ‘So tell me about this bloke of yours, then.’

‘What?’ Jen looked startled.

‘Matt said you had some mystery man up north.’

Charlotte started to giggle.

‘Was he having me on? Nah — a pretty girl like you can’t be single?’

Jen raised her eyebrows and sipped her beer. ‘Looks like I am tonight.’

Sunday morning dawned as fine and clear as the days before it, and in spite of any hangovers there might have been, the shearing got off to a flying start. Blackpeak’s regular gang was one of the best around, with South Island reps on the top three stands, and the rousies struggled to keep up as fleece after fleece hit the boards. Charlotte and Jen worked to keep the pens full. At the end of the day, a thousand sheep stood wool-less in the yards, expressions of vague surprise on their faces.

The week passed in a blur of flying wool, sweating bodies and flashing brooms. By the end of Thursday, the gang was done and the beers came out again. They hadn’t missed a day. Friday morning came, the weary shearers packed up, and still — despite the storm forecast to lash the east coast — the high country skies were clear as a bell.

Finally, around evening, a few clouds began to gather behind the hills. Charlotte, driving home from setting the dry ewes on higher pasture, watched the bank mount in her wing mirrors and breathed a sigh of relief. A good overnight shower on this warm soil and tomorrow the grass would be growing.