Down Outback Roads (10 page)

‘Don’t you want your ice-cream?’ Braye asked from where he sat beside Kree on the Glenalla park bench. His own chocolate-topped ice-cream had been eaten down to the crisp biscuit cone in under three minutes.

Kree took a quick lick to catch the chocolate poised to slide over her fingers. ‘Whoops. Yes, I do.’

That would teach her to let thoughts of Ewan distract her. Her focus melted faster than an ice-cream in the outback heat, when it came to thinking about him. She had to find a way to help him move on – to let go of the past and live the life a good man like him deserved.

Braye finished the end of his cone with a loud crunch. Still chewing, he leaned around Kree to eye off Darby’s still perfectly symmetrical ice-cream. Darby held his cone out of Braye’s reach and shook his head.

‘If you’ve finished, Braye, why don’t you go and play on the swing?’ Kree suggested with a grin. ‘There’s an ice-cream left in the box we bought from the grocery store, and when Darby has finished you can split it.’

‘Okay. Watch how high I can go?’

A sudden quiet descended over the park bench as Braye raced off. Kree touched her cone to Darby’s in a conspiratorial toast. As much as she loved Braye’s energy and independent spirit, she and Darby were now free to finish their ice-cream in peace. A feeling Tish had shared as she’d mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ when Kree had led the boys to the frozen section of the grocery store to find a special treat to eat in the park. Tish could now work her way through her long shopping list without any disruptions from the restless five-year-olds.

Braye’s strong legs quickly jettisoned himself and the swing high into the air. Kree waved and took another quick lick of her own ice-cream as it again threatened to overflow. Darby tapped her arm and pointed across the road. Kree turned towards the double-storey building, with its green, wrought-iron filigree, that filled the corner block. When the hotel beside the coach house had burned down, the Calf and Cow would have become Glenalla’s only watering hole. Had someone who’d known her mother once drunk there? Had her mother once played in the park in which Kree now sat?

A small, red-haired boy poked his head out a side door, waved at Darby, and then disappeared.

‘Your friend looks nice, Darby. What’s his name?’

Kree deliberately asked an open question Darby couldn’t answer with body language. She’d also asked it in a hushed tone so Braye wouldn’t hear and talk for his brother. Before life had set her on her artist path, she’d been an audiologist and she’d specialised in working with children. From their interactions, she had a niggling doubt Darby’s receptive language wasn’t age appropriate. He often looked to Braye to find out what someone said or what he had to do if given
a list of instructions, particularly in background noise. Ewan and Tish had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome at Marellen and where possible she’d help them and the boys in any way she could.

She faced him so he could read her lips, and asked again, ‘What’s your friend’s name, Darby?’

‘His name’s Mikey, and he’s my friend, too,’ Braye yelled from the air as his swing descended.

Kree silenced a chuckle. She had no doubt busy-body Braye heard and understood exceptionally well.

Mikey again poked his head out the doorway and waved, before disappearing.

Kree stood and tucked the box that contained the leftover ice-cream beneath her arm. She made sure Darby could see her face before she spoke.

‘Darby, shall we go and ask Mikey if he’d like to play with us? He might also enjoy our spare ice-cream.’

Darby smiled and slipped his hand into hers.

Brake jumped off mid-flight and appeared by her side. ‘I’m coming, too.’ Behind him, the empty swing continued to move.

‘Okay, I’ll finish my cone and then we’ll go.’

Kree polished off her ice-cream with a speed Braye would have been proud of, and then held out her free hand to him.

‘Make sure we check for cars,’ she said as they stopped onto the roadside and looked both ways. She hadn’t seen more than four dusty vehicles pass along Glenalla’s main street. While she had both her fingers and toes crossed that her visitor centre plan would increase the traffic flow, she still was yet to think of a draw card that would put Glenalla on the tourist map.

As they approached the Calf and Cow’s side door, Mikey appeared, his face beaming.

‘Hi, Mikey. I’m Kree. Would you like to come and play in the park with us?’

The small boy’s tousled head bobbed as he jumped up and down.

‘Wonderful. Is your mum or dad there so I can ask them if it’s okay?’

‘Mikey only has a pop,’ Braye said as he pulled his hand free.

‘Is your mum or pop inside?’ Kree re-phrased.

Mikey dashed away. The sound of his racing footsteps echoed along the long hallway that would lead to his living quarters behind the old pub. Kree gently placed a hand on Braye’s head. ‘Wait here, buddy. He’ll be back soon.’

Mikey returned towing a young, red-haired woman wearing a snug, pink Calf and Cow shirt. There was no doubt this was Mikey’s mother. Freckles dusted the same pale skin as her son, and ginger lashes surrounded the same brown eyes. But whereas Mikey’s shone with excitement, caution clouded the young woman’s gaze. She quickly glanced past the boys and Kree as though searching for someone. On seeing it was only the three of them, her face broke into a smile.

‘Hi, I’m Jordy and you must be Kree.’

‘Yes, that’s me – the lady who talks weird.’ The boys all giggled. ‘I think I met your father, Bill, when he helped search for my brother?’

‘Yes, Bill’s my dad and Mikey’s pop. Although now he’s bald and grey, so it’s a little hard to pick the red-head connection.’ Jordy ruffled Mikey’s thick thatch of bright hair.

Mikey moved away from his mother’s denim-clad legs to stand close beside Darby. Kree’s heart warmed as Darby said a soft, ‘Hi.’

‘Mikey said you and the boys would like him to come to the park?’

‘Yes, if it was all right with you? We have a spare ice-cream, if he isn’t allergic to dairy. I’ll take good care of him.’

Instead of replying, Jordy surveyed the street. Indecision creased her brow.

‘It won’t be for long,’ Kree said. ‘Tish is shopping and we’re filling in time. I said I’d meet her at the car,’ Kree checked her watch, ‘in another fifteen minutes.’

‘Okay. It’ll do Mikey good to have a run with the boys. Just a sec, I’ll get him a hat and come, too, as my shift doesn’t start for half-an-hour.’

With his cap firmly on, and holding his mother’s hand, Mikey followed Kree and the boys to the park. He didn’t take long to devour his soft ice-cream and climb off the bench to run over to the twins.

Jordy watched him go, a mixture of pride and what Kree could only describe as pain, etched on her face. Kree guessed it was hard raising a son on her own while also keeping the pub going.

‘He’s a great kid,’ Kree said.

‘He is. He gives Dad and I both a reason to get out of bed every day.’ The younger woman’s voice lowered. ‘Thanks for asking him to play. He doesn’t get out much and he loves the twins, Darby in particular.’

‘I can see that.’

Wherever Darby went, Mikey followed. Up and down the slide, on and off the swing and in and out of the wooden fort. Braye often tagged along or went off to do his own thing.
Kree made sure she waved at him in case he felt left out. But his broad smile said all was well in his egocentric world.

Jordy chuckled. ‘Mikey still has some growing to do. There are two years between him and the boys and his little legs have to work hard to keep up.’

‘I can imagine how tired he would be after playing with them, especially out at Marellen. The garden is huge.’

Jordy took a second to reply. ‘Mikey doesn’t visit Marellen. He only plays with the twins when Ewan comes to visit Bill.’

The young woman shifted forward on the seat and stared at her son with an almost desperate intensity.

A noisy guttural ute cruised by. Sporting huge aerials and a sticker-covered tailgate, the driver honked the horn. Jordy lifted a hand. ‘The boys are home from the mines. I’d better make sure we’ve got some extra rooms ready.’

‘That must be good for business.’

‘It is. But it’s hard on the town having so many of the young blokes leave. If it isn’t the mines, it’s the city – and it’s not just the blokes, it’s the young girls, too. A whole generation moves away for work or education and then doesn’t return as they see no future here.’

Kree looked across the park to where the sun warmed the stonework of the Cobb and Co. coach house. Her plan to give Glenalla a life-giving heart was falling into place. There now had to be a way of generating local employment so the mass exodus of the young to the city and mines would slow. In her hometown of Elk Falls, tourists were vital to the economy, creating cash flow as well as jobs.

She turned to Jordy. ‘I’d love to see some of the local attractions or historical places while I’m in town. What can you recommend?’

Jordy pursed her lips. ‘To be honest, there’s not much to see. The land around town is all farming.’ She inclined her head towards the coach house. ‘The coach house and our pub would be the most historically significant buildings. Marellen, then, would be a further historical landmark and on the other side of town there’s Banora Downs and the burned out Killora Downs.’

‘So there are no old cabins or anything like that around?’

‘Not that I know of. But with Cobb and Co. running through here, there would have to be some smaller historic places people don’t know about. Sometimes in a paddock you can see what’s left of an old garden and the remains of a brick chimney. Anne, the local librarian, is the best person to talk to about Glenalla’s history.’

Kree nodded, stifling a pang of disappointment. It was a long shot she’d locate the cabin from the sketch she’d found in her mother’s belongings. And an even longer shot she’d unlock the secrets to her mother’s childhood. She’d pay Anne a visit and show her the photocopy of the sketch, just in case she knew anything.

Jordy continued, ‘A neighbouring town has an Elvis Festival in January that brings in tourists, but perhaps you won’t be here then? Dubbo has a world-renowned open-plan zoo that’s well worth visiting, but that’s about it for the area. Actually …’ She swivelled in her seat to look at the pub. ‘You know what you should see, that not many people know about?’

‘What?’

‘Our murals.’

Kree’s fingers closed over the back of the wooden bench as she, too, turned to stare at the pub. ‘Murals, as in large paintings?’

‘Yes. Huge paintings that cover entire walls and even ceilings. Before I was born a traveller stayed, and to pay for his board and lodging he painted the most beautiful landscapes. Most of the locals don’t even know they’re there, as Dad keeps that wing closed because we don’t have the guests to fill the beds.’

Murals.

Excitement bubbled through Kree’s veins. She knew how popular the murals were in the Denver International Airport and from an artist friend she’d heard about a Canadian town that’d turned their fortunes around by becoming known as the town of murals. She swung around to examine the buildings around the park in which the boys played. Wall upon wall of drab, lifeless bricks and mortar stood side-by-side. She smiled.

Ewan’s man-cave might be his paradise. But she’d just found hers.

Glenalla was one big, blank canvas.

So much for autumn bringing cooler weather.

Ewan took off his hat and swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. The heat from the ground felt like it was slowly roasting him from the boots up. Pungent fumes filled the air as diesel gurgled through the hose connecting the mobile fuel tanker to the tractor’s fuel tank. He’d have enough diesel to refuel, but he’d have to take the mobile fuel tank to the homestead when he drove the farm ute home for dinner. Beside the machinery shed stood the larger fuel tank that the town tanker replenished.

Ewan squinted through the mirages dancing across the flat paddock to locate the tree line marking the distant road. He’d seen a dust cloud in the air an hour ago. Tish and the boys were home from town but he’d yet to see any further dust telling him Kree had returned from her daily visit to the Tylers’. Tish had mentioned at breakfast that Kree would be calling into Berridale on her way home from Glenalla.

Whiskey lay in the pool of shade cast by the stationary
tractor. The kelpie hadn’t moved since he’d collapsed on the ground with a grunt.

‘Whisk, just think, soon it will be you and Midget again. Kree and her two noisy offsiders will soon be back at Berridale. I’ve finally talked to Don and can get the replacement pump sorted.’

But the kelpie’s tail didn’t wag or his unblinking stare change.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Ewan shared Whiskey’s gloominess. Marellen would feel empty when the joy of Kree’s laughter no longer wrapped him in its warmth. He’d even miss Fudge’s happy bleats and a playful Freckle tripping him over when he left the homestead every morning.

The nozzle clicked, signifying the tractor’s fuel tank had reached full capacity. Ewan re-stored the hose on the mobile tanker before replacing the tractor’s fuel cap. Whiskey’s bark let him know a dusty, white four-wheel drive approached. The vehicle rolled to a stop and Travis exited, dressed in ripped jeans, a faded red shirt and a battered hat.

Ewan settled his own hat more firmly on his head. There may be no happy endings in his future but he’d work damn hard to ensure there would be in Travis’s. He had to find a way to get Travis and Tish to relax around each other and talk. As much as Ewan dreaded the dinner Kree was offering, it still provided the perfect opportunity.

‘Slacking off, I see,’ Travis said with a grin.

‘More like hydrating. What’s with this weather? I hope we’re not in for a dry and hot autumn. We all need a crop, let alone a decent harvest.’

‘Tell me about it. But the long-term forecast is for a wet season, so you’d better get your dusty butt back into that tractor seat and finish sowing.’

Ewan raised his arms above his head to remove the kinks from his spine before he did exactly that. ‘I take it from you being here, and from your gloating grin, you’re all done?’

‘Yes, sure am. Put the last of the wheat in this morning.’ Travis’s grin broadened. ‘So, seeing as I’ve so much spare time, I thought I’d come lend a hand.’

Ewan matched his smile. ‘Rub it in, why don’t you?’

‘I’m only getting started.’

‘Lucky for you, I’m a good loser, so I’ll let you enjoy that spare time of yours before it disappears. Just refuelled and reckon I’ll finish this paddock and the canola before dinner. I’ll then clean the airseeder and be right to start the wheat tomorrow, barring any machinery breakdowns.’

‘So, nothing for me to do, then?’

‘Sorry, mate, but thanks.’ Ewan turned towards the tractor, hesitated and then faced Travis again. ‘Actually, there is something you can do.’

‘Fire away.’

‘I’ve spoken to Don, and with the hike in electricity prices he wants to put in a solar-powered pressure pump. I’ve made a few calls and the Dubbo pump place is sending one by courier to Bruce’s, for me to look at. The only thing is, I can’t get into town until the wheat’s in. So, if you’re in there over the next few days, maybe you could check it out to make sure it’ll do the job.’

Travis removed his hat and dragged his hand through his hair. The gesture surprised Ewan. For some reason Travis had to think about what Ewan had requested. Normally whatever they asked each other to do, it was a given it’d be done.

‘It’s fine,’ Ewan continued. ‘If you’re not going to town,
I’ll get to it eventually. It’s just the sooner the pump’s sorted, the sooner Kree can return to Berridale.’

‘No, I’ll do it.’ Travis spoke slowly as though needing to choose his words. ‘But don’t forget Bruce’s hurt his back and even if the pump’s right, he won’t be able to put it in until his young bloke gets home from the mines. I would offer to put the pump in myself, but Bruce needs the money he’d charge for the installation.’

‘Damn. I forgot about his back. And you’re right, Bruce needs the money, so I wouldn’t feel comfortable installing it either.’ Ewan glanced at Whiskey. ‘You can stop looking at me like that now. It’s your lucky day. Kree and the terrible twosome will be staying longer.’

The phone rang in Marellen’s long hallway. In the night-time quiet of the homestead, the insistent ring was amplified. Kree came to her feet. The twins were asleep, Ewan on the tractor sowing and Tish in the kitchen making more of the delicious poppy-seed dressing they’d enjoyed on their home-grown dinner salad. Kree took a last look at the webpage on her laptop and headed out the library door. It would be morning over in America and she was expecting a call from a lawyer regarding the coach house.

But as Kree spoke her name into the phone receiver, a polished Australian voice responded with, ‘Kree who?’

‘Kree Garrett.’

‘Are you an American?’

The caller had to be Tish’s mother. The same rounded vowels that characterised Tish’s polished tone filled Kree’s
ears. But where Tish’s voice was gentle and melodious, this woman’s was marble-hard.

‘Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado.’

‘And what are you doing at Marellen?’

‘Among other things, I’m learning to play tractors with the boys.’

‘Well, it’s about time.’

‘Sorry?’ Kree stifled a surge of dislike. She knew first impressions were formed within ten seconds of meeting people, but she only had Tish’s mother’s voice to go on and no non-verbal signals. Face-to-face, the older woman might be warmer and more personable than her brusque phone manner.

‘For years I’ve wanted her to get a nanny or an au pair. When I last saw my daughter she looked decidedly … unkempt. She had dirt under her nails, for goodness sake.’

But then, maybe not.

‘Mrs …?’

‘Mrs MacTavish-West.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs MacTavish-West, if I’ve given you the wrong impression but as much as I enjoy being with the boys, I’m not their nanny or au pair.’

‘You’re not?’

‘No, I’m staying with Tish and Ewan until the place where I’m supposed to be living has an inside water supply again.’

Mrs MacTavish-West made no attempt to hide her tsk of disapproval. ‘I don’t know why Tish insists on living
out there
, things are so primitive. Not having any water wouldn’t happen in Sydney.’

‘From what I’ve seen, the outback is a wonderful place to live. The sunsets are to die for and the Glenalla bush
community is both tight-knit and supportive. Tish and the boys are much loved
out here
.’

‘But what’s there to do? There’s no theatre, no culture, and don’t get me started on the lack of educational opportunities for my grandsons.’

Tish’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. ‘My mother?’ she mouthed.

Kree nodded. Tish briefly closed her eyes before holding out her hand for the phone.

‘Mrs MacTavish-West, Tish is here so I’ll wish you a good night.’

Kree handed over the phone to Tish, who had her slender shoulders braced.

Kree walked on silent feet to the library and closed the door to give Tish privacy. Kree had spoken the truth to Mrs MacTavish-West. The clear sky, pure light and open spaces begged her to capture their beauty on canvas. The warmth and resilience of the people who made the remote bush their home touched and humbled her. It was as though she were living in the American west, but on a different frontier. The outback that Tish’s mother so maligned had a way of getting into your blood.

Much like Marellen. Kree sat at the table and gazed around the dimly lit library. There was something about this peaceful and dignified homestead that spoke to her and made her feel welcome. She’d love to trawl through the walls of books surrounding her and sit in the bay window overlooking Tish’s rose garden and read. There were other gracious rooms she’d like to take a peek in. The room two doors down had to be a music room. Once so reluctant to stay, she was now finding she would be reluctant to leave.

Kree reopened the mural web page on her laptop. Tish’s voice rose and Kree had no trouble making out her tense words, even through the closed library door.

‘That’s great you bumped into Mrs Wilkins and yes, I do know she has a granddaughter Braye and Darby’s age. And yes, I do also know she can read
Old Macdonald Had a Farm
, because you told me on our last phone call.’

Tish’s voice lowered. Kree scrolled through the mural images. When she was next in town she’d ask Jordy if she could see the pub murals to check if there was a theme she could extend.

Tish’s voice rose again.

‘I’ll say it again. I don’t want the boys booked into any Sydney prep school. I don’t care if you’ve already scheduled an interview with the principal or if Mrs Wilkins says I’ll miss out on getting the boys into the right school – we’re
not
leaving Marellen.’