Family Farm (3 page)

As Izzy and Bill drove from one dam to the next, the morning sun sparkled against the golden tips of the wheat and heavy heads leant over in the gentle breeze. An impatient Tom pushed his head out past Izzy to the open window. Little mounds of woollen bodies lay dotted over dry feedless paddocks, trying to conserve energy for the warm day ahead.

The final paddock came around too soon as they checked on the last mob of sheep. A blurry haze had spread out before them as the heat intensified in the late morning.

‘It’s gonna be a hot one at the clearing sale today,’ said her dad suddenly.

Lifting her head from its comfy position on her arm, Izzy turned to her father. ‘What clearing sale? You didn’t tell me there was a clearing sale on. Whose?’ she asked curiously.

‘Ray North’s. He’s retiring early after having too many shitty years back to back.’

Izzy nodded. She knew Ray and his wife. They lived about twenty-five kilometres away. ‘Who’s interested, Dad?’

‘Johnno’s already leasing most of the land and Perkins the rest. Ray just has his machinery and sundries to sell. Thought we could go in and have a look. He still has that yellow ten-tonne Volvo truck I wouldn’t mind getting, if it’s in my price range. Plus there’s probably a few other things that might be of interest. Best go give our support as well.’

They settled into silence. Another family was leaving the district while their farm merged with others around it. Towns shrunk, schools closed and local businesses battled. It seemed the way of the world, Izzy thought sadly as she rubbed Tom’s ears. She wondered what Pingaring would be like in another ten years. She pictured a derelict town with tumbleweeds rolling past.

It took them most of the morning to drive around the farm checking on sheep and dams. Plus Izzy made her dad detour to other parts of the farm, just so she could see every square inch of it. She had missed it all so much and was happy to find it just how it was before she left. All except the large eucalyptus tree that had fallen over in the rock paddock, which Dad said had happened last year after Cyclone Harry had come down the coast.

When they finally returned to the sheds, Izzy quizzed her dad on his new purchases and checked them over, much to his irritation. She liked the new – well, actually, second-hand – seeder bar he’d got, and the new drill press for the workshop. By then it was almost lunchtime and Jean was calling them on the two-way, telling them to clean up and head to the house.

After a cold meat and salad lunch, they all headed to Ray’s farm. Izzy grilled her dad for more details on the way. What other things was he interested in and how much was he willing to pay? She even offered her opinion but knew damn well he wouldn’t listen to it.

‘I think you’ll be lucky to get that truck, Dad. It’s gonna go way above your price,’ she said, having a go anyway. ‘With harvest around the corner it will sell as fast as a carton of cold beer. My bet is it will go for around twenty-five thousand.’

Her dad just ‘hmphed’ at her.

Crossing her arms, she shook her head. She should have bet a six-pack on it, because she knew the old man was dreaming. Trucks were always in high demand at harvest, especially during a good year.

Her mum was helping the CWA ladies with afternoon tea and drinks, so she was dolled up nicely today. She had on a pair of white shorts, a soft blue shirt and minimal make-up, but that was all she needed. Izzy couldn’t believe how graceful her mum could look. Why hadn’t she inherited any of that, she wondered. Izzy wouldn’t dare wear white. It would never stay clean on her. She was still wearing her work clothes from the morning. She stretched her legs as much as she could. Three adults in a ute was just a bit too cosy. Thankfully, it wasn’t going to be a long trip. Lifting up her cap, she scratched her head where the sweat was itching her skin. Clearing-sale days always seemed to be hot.

Soon they were pulling into an open paddock where they found a bare patch of earth and parked among the sea of mostly white utes and dual cabs. Already there was a large gathering of blokes in hats and boots. Dust rose in the air, like when sheep were on the move in the paddocks, but this time it came from the prospective buyers walking up and down the rows of items for sale. In and out of the large machinery they wandered. Even if you weren’t there to buy, you still had a look.

Two large red headers sat neatly in a row next to a yellow truck, two green tractors and seeding bars to suit, plus a couple of ploughs and two motorbikes. Ray’s work ute, a firefighting unit, and a couple of bits and pieces filled another few rows, and an area in his large shed contained sundry items. That was where the farmers’ wives congregated. Izzy tagged along with her dad, looking at various items and stopping to chat to the locals. Everyone was coming up to them wondering who was with Bill and they were surprised to see it was Izzy. The subsequent conversation therefore always lasted that bit longer and they all asked the same questions. Have you been home long? Are you staying for good? How was it in New South Wales? What’s the farming situation like over there?

A good hour and a half had passed by the time Izzy glanced over to the shed, where the ladies had set up their tables with an assortment of goodies and an old bathtub filled with ice for the cans of soft drink and beer. Her mum was busily getting the urn organised for those who wanted tea or coffee.

A minute later the auctioneer started up and his voice boomed out erratically as the bids began. He started with the small items first, which took nearly an hour to get through, before starting on the larger items. The truck her dad was interested in was coming up shortly. Izzy stood back from the crowd of men circling around the auctioneer. They were dwarfed by the large black tyre of one of the red headers. Once the auctioneer’s hand went down, the men all shuffled on to the next item, raising a dust cloud as they went. They moved together, almost synchronised as if they had an imaginary rope around them all.

Bidding eventually started on the large yellow truck. ‘Do I hear fifteen thousand?’ bellowed the red-nosed auctioneer. His large gut heaved. He obviously enjoyed the taste of beer, Izzy surmised. Give him a red suit and a white beard and he could easily have been mistaken for Santa Claus. A bloke in front of Izzy raised his hand, clutching a bit of paper with the number thirty on it. In the blink of an eye, hands were rising left, right and centre, and the bids flew upwards. Izzy gave a silent chuckle as the price ran straight over the limit her dad had set himself. She was sure he didn’t even get a chance to bid.

‘Twenty six and a half thousand, going once … going twice …’ The auctioneer scanned the crowd for a bid. ‘Sold,’ he yelled after confirming there were no more takers. Izzy saw her dad look across to her and she raised her eyebrows and smiled with an ‘I told you so’ look.

‘What did I tell you, hey?’ she teased as she rejoined him, while the rest of the crowd moved on to the next item for sale.

‘You had a lucky guess,’ he grunted back, avoiding her eyes.

She should have known. Not many blokes out here took a girl seriously, let alone her dad. She was trying to break into a tough market.

‘I’m dry as chips,’ he said quickly, changing the subject. ‘Let’s go see Jean.’

Off they strode side by side, both the same height but Izzy half the width, towards the spread of food. Her dad bought a beer. It was only three-thirty but it was a given that it was okay to drink earlier in the day if it was a special occasion – or if there were more than two blokes around. They made all kinds of excuses to crack open a cold can.

‘Hi, Bill. Any luck?’ Jean asked.

He mumbled his reply.

Jean gave an understanding nod with just a hint of a smile, and winked at Izzy when Bill wasn’t looking. ‘I’ll be finished here in a few minutes, Izzy. Did you want to meet up and go over the sundries?’ she asked as she handed Izzy her change. ‘Your father will have found a few mates to have a drink with by then, no doubt.’

‘Sure, Mum,’ replied Izzy, before taking a large mouthful of the lamington she’d just bought.

Izzy headed off to check out one of the motorbikes, which she believed would be very handy on the farm. It would certainly be a lot cheaper to run, as well as being easier to shift sheep with, than the ute, especially with diesel prices what they were. She had seen the blue Yamaha TTR250 earlier, and now she got on it and started the engine. It purred into life. Quickly she shut it off, fearing other bidders would take too much interest. It was only a year old and looked in great nick. The black knobbly tyres still had plenty of tread, and the blue plastic mudguards and bodywork had no scratches or cracks. She guessed it might go for around five thousand and she had that much put aside. Deciding to find Ray and ask him about it, she turned and scanned the crowd.

A tall, lean figure was approaching her. She couldn’t tell who it was at first as he had on a hat and sunglasses, and nearly every bloke here was wearing the same with jeans and boots. But she could tell this guy had a body you could bounce rocks off. It wasn’t until he raised his tanned, muscular arm in a half wave that she recognised him. Yeah, she remembered his sexy swagger all right and knew if he took off his sunnies that she’d be met with a pair of intense blue eyes. He fitted into the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ category, and something about him demanded your attention, as if he was magnetised and your eyes were little ball bearings.

Suddenly, Izzy felt rather ill. She had been admiring the fine-looking fella, until she realised it was Will Timmins. Argh! Her skin crawled as the hairs on her arms twitched like little antennas, wary of a predator. Oh, she knew Will all right, had known him all her life. His parents owned the farm next to theirs.

Brian and Sandy Timmins had one of the biggest farms in the area. Her father had told her just that morning there were rumours Brian was going to lease another 2000 hectares off Mike Littlemore next year. Mike was apparently moving to Perth for his kids, where they were booked into school.

Brian and Sandy only had two children, Will and his sister, Jolene. Jolene was older than Will, already married with a couple of kids and living in Perth. Izzy hadn’t seen Will for ages, and frankly she’d have been quite happy if she’d never seen him again.

Before she could turn and walk away, he spoke.

‘Hey, I thought that was you, Izzy. It’s good to see you. How long have you been back?’

Will smiled, wondering what kind of answer he’d get. He had found Izzy by accident, admiring her from afar as she checked out the bike. After watching her for a moment, some of the things she did looked familiar. For a moment, he believed it was Claire standing there and his body almost burst with the thought. When he got his emotions back under control, he twigged that it was Izzy, and felt a moment of disappointment. But now, standing in front of her, he found himself staring at this new grown-up version of the girl he once knew. With Claire momentarily forgotten, he began to remember the little Izzy and took pleasure in noticing the womanly improvements a few years had produced.

Izzy kicked at the dirt, took a step back and planted her arms protectively across her body. Her face was set hard and her reply to his question was short and curt. ‘Long enough.’

Will nodded his head. ‘Ah, I see you still haven’t forgiven me. You know, time is supposed to heal all wounds.’ He swung his hands onto his hips as if to reinforce the statement. ‘Come on, Izzy,’ he pushed. ‘It’s been years.’

Lifting her head, she glared at him fiercely. ‘Why should I forgive you? I don’t have to like you, you know.’

The look she was giving him was the same hatred-filled one he’d got the last time he’d seen her, several years ago. It was about the only thing that hadn’t altered about Izzy.

Will laughed under his breath. ‘You Simpsons are a stubborn lot, you know that?’ He knew straightaway that he shouldn’t have said it. He noticed her body language change, as if he’d waved a red flag. Her eyes narrowed and were drilling holes into his head.

Izzy couldn’t contain the fire brewing up inside her. All the anger and hurt broke free from the knotted ropes she’d used to secure them away and returned in full force. She tilted her head and spat just loud enough for him to hear every word clearly. ‘Better than an arrogant, self-centred, using bastard like yourself.’

Izzy couldn’t see Will’s reaction as his face was partially covered by his hat and sunnies. He just stood quietly. His tall, muscled frame was almost leaning backwards from the force of her words.

Ever so slowly and quietly he replied, ‘Why don’t you tell me how you really feel? Can’t a bloke change?’

Izzy wondered if he had been hoping for a miracle. If he thought she could just forgive him and move on, he was wrong. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it. Probably around the same time that all the flies just up and die!’ She had already turned and started to leave.

Will watched her walk away. He wasn’t angry with the way she’d reacted, just sad. He wanted this whole thing over. ‘I’ll see you later then,’ he called out. ‘Don’t forget we’re neighbours and you can’t avoid me forever.’

‘Huh! Not if I can help it,’ she yelled without looking back.

Izzy’s steps were long and forceful, almost stomping. She didn’t know where she was headed but soon found herself back at the table where her mum was working. As it turned out, Jean was just finishing up so they headed off together into the large shed to check out the household items. It took Izzy a while to calm down and to stop her heart racing like a mad goanna. Will could send her blood pressure soaring in seconds. How dare he have the hide to talk to her like there was nothing wrong between them.

‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ asked Jean, sensing the tension in her daughter.

Izzy forced herself to smile and flapped her arms about freely as if to brush it away. ‘No, I’m fine. Just thinking, that’s all.’

It wasn’t until they got to the end of the shed where some old metal-framed beds and mattresses were stacked that she noticed a small man with slightly hunched shoulders chatting to his wife in the corner. ‘Mum, I’ll be back in a tick. I just want to have a word with Ray.’ She set off to chat with Ray, who was standing with his wife, Louise, after remembering that was what she had originally intended, before Will had made her lose her cool.