Family Farm (37 page)

Bill nodded. ‘Thanks, Will. I don’t know how to repay you.’

The way Bill was squirming in his wheelchair Will saw that all this didn’t rest well with him. ‘I know it’s hard for you to sit back and watch. But if you don’t let us help, who else is there?’

After clearing his throat, Bill said, ‘Well, once you’ve got the truck up to scratch, there is the fence down by the main road to repair and maybe you could start checking over the tractor. I’ve got a map in the office and when you have a free day I’ll mark up what’s going where and which paddocks I don’t want cropped.’

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ Jean jumped in. ‘Will, does roast beef tickle your fancy? Care to join us for dinner tonight?’ she asked.

Will sighed and smiled. ‘Who could refuse? Thanks, that’d be great.’ He bid them farewell and headed for the door.

Outside he felt the humidity thicken the air and his legs grow heavier. It had been a while since the floods but the heat kept drawing the moisture up out of the soil. That wasn’t worrying him – what was worrying him was the wedding dinner he had to attend the following week for his cousin, John. It was in the city and sounded like fun, but the last thing Will felt like being was the wet mop at what should be a joyful celebratory party.

Putting it out of his mind for now, Will reached the shed and went straight for the truck. It had been having problems with the alternator and needed a really good service. The alternator turned out to be stuffed and he had a new one organised to arrive through the local mechanic in the next day or two. Until then, the truck would sit unfinished, but he completed the service of new oil and filters. His jeans were covered with smudges of grease and dust and he smelt like a diesel spill.

He saw Izzy’s motorbike sitting in the corner of the shed and went over and touched the seat, wanting to be near something of hers. Sitting on it, he backed it out of the shed and kicked it into life. He rode it past his own bike parked at the front of the shed and headed home for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He pulled the throttle back hard, blowing the cobwebs from the motor and clearing his head at the same time. The rush of the wind pushed at his eyes, forcing out the moisture. It made him feel like he was shedding tears. He didn’t dare take his hand off the handlebars to wipe them away as he flogged the bike along the gravel track. He pushed it to its limit – over the bumps, around the holes and past the fence posts at breakneck speed. He kept pushing till the adrenaline filled his veins and, for the first time in weeks, he began to feel alive.

He pulled up with a sideways skid near his house, dismounted and bounded inside. Instinctively he headed to the phone. Four messages flashed before him. He hit the play button and listened to two hang-ups, a message from John about the dinner, and then, finally, the call he’d been waiting for. The voice caught him mid-breath.

‘Hi, Will. It’s Izzy. Can you let Mum know I’m fine? I’m settled at a place and have work, so she’s not to worry. Hope all’s okay. Um … thanks … bye.’ Damn. He hit the tabletop with his fist. He was pissed that he’d missed answering it. He pressed the play button and listened to her voice again. She didn’t give any indication of where she was, and didn’t leave a number. No doubt on purpose, he thought. He picked up the phone to call Jean immediately.

‘Oh, thank God,’ she replied when he told her the news. ‘Finally. Thanks, Will. I’ll go tell Bill. Let me know if you hear from her again, won’t you.’ The relief in Jean’s voice soothed Will’s own anxiety. At least Izzy was okay. That was the main thing.

After talking to Jean he went into the lounge room and sat in his favourite leather recliner and pulled the TV remote out of the side pouch on the chair. He flicked through the channels but couldn’t find anything to hold his interest. He picked up the book he’d been reading from the table next to his chair, but took one look at the tiny words and knew he didn’t have the concentration. Maybe he’d go and get his dog Tess and take her for a run with the motorbike. More fresh air would do him good. As he got off his chair he detoured past the answering machine and listened to Izzy’s voice one more time before heading to the door where his boots were waiting.

He really needed a release. For the last two weeks or more he’d been so tightly bound up with tension. Where was Izzy? How was she? Did she miss him? Why didn’t she call him? – all these thoughts and more constantly circled around in his head. Surely hearing her message should have put some of them to rest but it had only created more unanswered questions. Who was she working with and where? Why had she called him? Was it because she wanted to talk to him or was it just so she didn’t have to call home in case her dad answered? Hell, he felt like his head was going to explode.

Lately the days had been coming and going and he’d flitted through them in a joyless way. Life on the farm just didn’t seem so great any more without Izzy. He realised now how much he’d looked forward to seeing her, how his weeks weren’t complete unless he’d spent some time with her. How was he going to survive if she never came home? Angrily he threw the boot he’d been trying to put on and it landed with a thud in a clump of agapanthus. He walked with one boot to the edge of the verandah and leaned against the post in defeat. He didn’t want to think about Izzy never coming home. Without her it was as if the air was tainted – he struggled to breathe because each breath seemed to hurt. Izzy was his clean air; he needed her more than he had realised. Gumlea wouldn’t be the same without her. He wouldn’t be the same without her.

IZZY pressed the redial button again. The phone rang, then clicked as a machine answered.

‘Hi. You’ve reached Will’s place. I’m either at work or outside havin’ a beer. You can leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can. Cheers.’

The sound of Will’s voice had her hanging on his every word, so much so that the beep at the end of his message made her jump. You idiot, she thought as she bumbled out a quick message before hanging up. Her heart was racing. She’d decided yesterday that she’d call Will and leave a message for her mum. She knew he wouldn’t be at home during the day and she could safely leave a message, whereas her mum was home all day. She wanted to avoid the questions she knew they’d be dying to ask.

Izzy turned around and surveyed the kitchen and dining area. It was Wednesday afternoon. Blake was on the tractor, she was having an early break and Simone would be just about home from school. Dishes sat piled up in the sink, and Simone’s leftover bits of toast still lay on a crumb-filled plate next to the toaster, alongside the butter and Vegemite that had been left on the bench. It annoyed her that Simone was such a slob. And it was her turn on dishes today.

Grumbling under her breath, Izzy began to clear up. As she put the butter back in the fridge, she heard Simone’s little hatchback pull up. Moments later, she burst into the kitchen, dumped another armload of stuff on the already full table, went straight to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke. Izzy went to say hello but Simone silenced her with her hand as she gulped down her drink. Finally Simone stopped, pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘Sorry. So knackered. Who would have thought running around after fifteen little kids could be so bloody tiring?’

‘That good, hey?’ Izzy turned her back to her and began running dishwashing water in the sink.

‘Leave them, Izzy. I just didn’t get time this morning. I was running late.’

‘How can you run late when you don’t start work till eight-thirty? Blake and I get up at five-thirty so we can get our jobs done before we go to work at six-thirty.’ Izzy tried to keep the gruffness out of her voice.

‘Yeah, but you two are weird. No one should have to get up that early. It’s not normal.’

‘Don’t forget it’s your turn to cook.’

Simone slapped her forehead. ‘Ah, shit. I forgot to take out the sausages this morning. Oh well, that’s why we have microwaves. I’m just gonna make a sausage casserole. Sound okay?’

‘Yep. Well, I’ll leave you to your chores then. I’ve got a load of washing to put through. Oh and I’ve added washing powder to the shopping list.’

‘Oh, my washing’s still in there from this morning. Would you mind hanging it up for me while I do the dishes … please?’ she begged, flashing a winning smile.

‘Sure,’ said Izzy sighing as she headed to the small laundry. She liked Simone a lot but gee, was she disorganised.

March had been and gone and they were into April already as Izzy settled into life on Erindale. She couldn’t believe she’d been there a month and a half already. She now knew all the paddocks from boundary to boundary and was impressed with the red sandy loam soils. She wondered if she’d still be there at harvest. They had finished ripping up and now Alan wanted them to concentrate on his stud rams for their on-farm sale in two weeks.

‘So, chook, you coming into the pub for a Saturday night drink?’ Simone asked Izzy, as she sat next to her on the couch. ‘Come on. You promised you’d have a drink with me. I had a hard week at school, what with Janice leaving to have her baby, and we’ve been through three different relief teachers all with their own routines. I tell ya, I don’t know whether I’m Arthur or Martha.’

Izzy sank back into the couch and half listened to Simone’s ramblings. She put up her feet on the coffee table. ‘Yeah, I did promise, didn’t I? Well, then, I guess we are. Shall we stay for dinner?’

‘Sounds like a plan. I don’t think I could handle another one of Blake’s specialty meals. One can only eat spag bol so many times. Now, seeing as that’s sorted, I’d better jump in the shower.’ She gave Izzy a smile before skipping off to her bedroom.

Izzy heard the water hitting the tiles as she headed to Blake’s room. She knocked on his door and then carefully opened it.

‘Hey, Blake, you wanna come to the pub tonight with us for a drink and a feed?’ Blake was sitting in front of his computer screen. For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether he had heard her. ‘Blake?’

‘What’s Simo doing?’ he asked, without taking his eyes off the screen.

‘She’s in the shower.’

‘Good. Come in and shut the door,’ he said, finally turning around.

‘What ya doin’?’

‘Don’t tell Simo, but I’ve been messaging this guy I met in a chat room.’

Izzy saw the excitement on his face and raised her eyebrows. ‘How long’s this been going on?’

Blake smiled. ‘We started talking a couple of months ago and now we talk nearly every night.’

‘So, you like this fella, then? What’s he like? Come on, tell me all about him.’

Blake breathed slowly. He wasn’t even remotely fazed about talking openly to Izzy. ‘Well, he’s also a country boy. He works on a farm near Katanning with his two brothers. Izzy, we have so much in common, it’s amazing.’

Izzy couldn’t help smiling at the joy radiating from Blake as he spoke. ‘Do you have a picture?’

Blake clicked a few buttons and brought up a photo of a bloke standing in front of a large tractor. ‘His name’s Dean. He’s a good-looker, even if he is shorter than me by an inch or two. But check out his muscles. I’d love to see him without the shirt.’

‘So would I,’ Izzy added, then laughed as Blake shot her a dirty look.

Blake clicked back to his messages. ‘He wants to meet me in Perth next weekend – it’s almost the halfway point for both of us. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know, Mac. It’s up to you. Do you think he’s for real?’ she asked. She didn’t want Blake to be disappointed.

‘Oh, yeah. I feel like I know him well enough to trust him.’

Izzy rubbed his shoulder, trying to loosen his clenched muscles. ‘Well, maybe you should go and meet him, then.’

‘But how would it work, Izzy? If we did start a relationship, I’d be driving over four hours to Perth just to catch up, and I’d be leading a double life.’ Blake sighed heavily and his shoulders sagged.

‘Just take one step at a time. Go and meet him, then deal with the rest later.’

Blake looked up at her, like a puppy begging for a treat. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘For company or to hold your hand and protect you in case he’s a loony?’

‘Both.’ He winked before turning back to reply to Dean. ‘I’ll see if he’s free next weekend. I don’t think Dad would mind us taking the weekend off. We haven’t had much of a break since we’ve been ripping up.’

‘Sounds good. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’d better go and get ready or Simone will be waiting for me, for a change.’

‘I’ll bet you ten bucks you’re ready before she is,’ said Blake, holding out his hand to shake on it.

Izzy smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m not that stupid.’ Turning for the door, she said, ‘Let me know how things go with Dean. Oh, and I take it you don’t want to come out with us tonight?’

‘No thanks. Might just have some two-minute noodles,’ came his distant reply. He was already busy tapping at the keyboard again.

The road into town was narrow, hardly a car’s width, and it was a well-worn path. Large potholes dotted the bitumen, some filled for the hundredth time, while others just spewed out gravel from deep below when run over. They readjusted the wheel alignment and rattled your teeth.

Simone pulled off onto the gravel when they passed a ute coming the other way. A shower of gravel stones and loose blue metal pelted the windscreen, which was already scarred with chips and a lightning-shaped crack.

‘You know, Mullawoon’s way out bush and I complain about it enough, but it’s home and I do love it,’ said Simone, turning to Izzy. ‘I suppose you feel the same about your place?’

A smile spread across Izzy’s face. ‘Yep. It will always be home, that’s for sure. There’s no other place I’d rather be.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I mean, I love it here – especially living with you and Blake. You guys are great. But the family farm is where I belong … where my heart belongs.’

‘You really love the land, hey? I don’t think I’d ever feel that passionate about our farm – a bloke maybe, but not a slab of dirt with a bit of grass on it. You and I are so different. It’s funny that we get on so well.’

‘Only ’cos I put up with your shit.’ Izzy laughed. ‘Nah. Maybe we’re just opposites who complement each other.’