Outback Ghost (2 page)

‘Yeah, we've got plenty of manpower, but…' His voice drifted off. The truth was he couldn't understand why his dad had decided to step down and take a back seat on the farm earlier this year. Not working meant more time cooped up in the house with sad memories and an even sadder wife. He worried about what that would do to his dad, who had at least tried to get on with his life.

They ate breakfast in relative silence, forks scraping against the china plates and the sound of the dogs scrapping on the veranda. His sister's presence sat like an elephant at the table, but they'd long ago stopped talking about her. Adam couldn't remember if it had been an actual decision or sharing the memories had become too painful. Either way, no one ever mentioned her, and without her it seemed they had little left to say to each other.

That was one of the reasons he'd suggested renovating his late uncle's cottage, which was the third residence on the farm, and turning it into farmstay tourist accommodation. It had worked for a while – earlier this year, he'd gone over the plans with his parents and his mum had even gotten involved with the interior decorating. While they had paint colours, tiles and curtain styles to choose, there'd been plenty to talk about. He'd hoped the guests that came to stay in the cottage would also become an interest for her. Unfortunately, so far they'd had extremely bad luck in that department.

Finally, their dishes were bare and Adam pushed his chair back to stand.

Gathering his dirty plate, cutlery and mug, he said, ‘I'll do the dishes. Thanks for breakfast, Mum.'

‘No, it's fine,' she replied, standing also. ‘You've got more to do than I have, you get back into it and I'll take my time clearing the kitchen.'

He should probably have argued, insisted on helping, but the truth was he wanted to escape the oppressive mood that hung in the air here. And he did have work to do. He'd been on the header half the night and back there at first light this morning but they still had a good few weeks of days like that to go.

‘Thanks.' He leaned forward and kissed his mum on the cheek, gave his dad a brief wave and then headed out, whistling to Mutton as he went.

He opened the door of his ute and his new Kelpie pup jumped up and through onto the passenger seat. He was still so little and Adam didn't like the thought of him skidding around on the ute's back tray.

Although a day of work lay ahead, Adam went home first. He didn't usually drink at this time of the morning; hell, he didn't usually drink much at all, but right now, he needed something. Mutton leapt out of the ute and bounded around the home paddock like a chook with his head cut off. Leaving the pup to play, Adam kicked his boots off at the front door, then went straight through to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of whisky from the back of a cupboard.

Just one drink, a few moments to think about his sister on his own, and then, he'd be okay to face the day. He took his measure of amber fluid in a plastic tumbler outside and sat down on the top step of the veranda. After a quick sip, he cradled the cup in his hands and looked out over the horizon. Annadale Farm – named after his dad's grandparents Anna and Dale – was big enough that he couldn't see his parents' house or the old cottage from here. He liked the solitude that offered and at this time of the year, he liked looking out across the paddocks and seeing the wheat and canola crops about to be harvested. There was wealth in it. Not for the money it would bring but the richness of the fertile earth.

He took another sip and then looked up at the sound of a vehicle approaching. He frowned as his dad's ute came into view, red dust blowing up behind it. Resting the tumbler on the top step beside him, Adam stood. His dad rarely came visiting and they'd been together less than five minutes ago.

‘Hey Dad,' he called, raising a hand as Dave slammed the ute's door and started towards the house. ‘Is there a problem?'

He didn't reply straightaway, but the lines on his brow indicated something was definitely on his mind. ‘Is that what I think it is?' Dave gestured to the tumbler as he stepped onto the veranda.

Adam nodded. ‘Can I get you one?'

‘I'd kill for it.'

Racking his mind for what his father could have to say, Adam went back into the house and poured another measure of whisky. In a way, he was closer to his dad than he was to his mum. The two of them often talked about farming strategies and the latest advances in agricultural technology, but since his dad retired their chats had been less frequent. Adam knew Dave was doing his damn best not to interfere but the truth was he missed his input, missed having someone to bounce around ideas with.

‘Here you are,' he said as he stepped back outside and offered his dad a glass.

‘Thanks.' Dave took it, smiled awkwardly and raised the drink to his lips. Adam watched as he took a sip. He got the feeling his dad had bad news and he wished he'd just come right out and say it, but Dave never liked to be rushed.

‘It's a good crop this year,' he said eventually.

‘Yes,' Adam agreed, certain his father hadn't come to talk about this. ‘It looked touch and go for a while there but in the end Mother Nature did her bit.'

‘You've done me proud, son.' Dave turned his head and Adam noted the moisture in his father's eyes. His gut tightened. Was he sick or something?

‘Thanks,' he managed, feeling strangely emotional. ‘I had the best teacher.'

Dave's lips lifted slightly. ‘I don't know about that.' And then he went quiet again.

‘What's the matter, Dad?' Adam asked. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?'

Silence lingered for a few long moments. Adam thought maybe he was overreacting, that maybe Dave just needed a drink like he did and yet hadn't wanted to have one with Esther.

Then he landed the blow. ‘I'm leaving your mother.'

‘What?' Things weren't exactly paradise at the homestead but Adam hadn't been expecting this.

‘I can't take it anymore,' Dave added, while questions whirled around Adam's head. Was there another woman involved? Where would he go?

He opened his mouth but shock rendered him speechless. Remembering the tumbler on the step, he lurched forward, scooped it up and downed the entire contents in one gulp.

‘I guess this has come as a bit of a shock,' Dave said.

Adam shot him a glare and finally found his voice. ‘No kidding!'

‘I'm sorry.' The look in Dave's eyes said he meant it. He took another sip and then rested his glass on the veranda railing. ‘I loved your mum, I really did, but the woman I married is long gone. And living with a stranger, who barely talks to me, has taken its toll. I miss your sister as much as she does, but I don't want to live like this anymore. I hoped if I took early retirement, we could get away from here. Go someplace less toxic, somewhere she could start to heal but we both know how ridiculous that dream is.' He laughed cynically. ‘If twenty years aren't enough, she'll never get over it. It's time for me to let it go.'

Adam wanted to argue. He was angry at his dad for taking the easy way out but at the same time he couldn't blame him. Nothing about living with his mum had been easy. She hadn't even left the farm in the last two decades; going further afield would take a miracle.

‘O-kay,' he said slowly. ‘When are you going? What will you do? Have you told Mum?'

Dave nodded but didn't meet Adam's gaze as he did so. ‘Last night. I decided to stay until… well, until after this morning.'

Adam opened his mouth to reply even though he had no idea what to say but his dad went on before he had a chance to speak.

‘I'm sorry, son. I've been deliberating over this decision for months. I don't want to leave you in the shit, but it's bloody draining. I've tried to help her, Lord knows I've done my best, but I'm tired of not being enough.'

If Adam understood anything, it was that. He'd had the same thought over and over again throughout the last twenty years. So many times he'd wanted to shout at his mum, that yes, her daughter was gone but she still had a son. Wasn't
he
enough? How about she pay him some attention? Make him feel like her life was worth living because of what she had left?

But, of course, he'd never challenged her because he was responsible for all of this.

For this same reason, he couldn't begrudge his dad leaving now. Even if it would mean the burden of his mother's welfare would lie solely on his shoulders. In essence Adam was the one who'd lost his little sister, so he had to pay the price.

*

Stella Reynolds laughed, smiled in the rear-view mirror and then joined in with her excited daughter's singing along to the lyrics of ‘Summer Holiday' as they travelled north along the Brand Highway. Cliff Richard was her mother's all-time favourite singer and as a child, Stella couldn't help learning all his songs off by heart. Her mother used to play her favourite songs full bore whenever she did the housework and sometimes she'd stop and drag Stella and her little brother up to dance. As a teenager, Stella had pretended to hate this but secretly she'd loved it. Stella smiled wistfully at the happy memory, then sighed. Of course she hadn't heard any Cliff for years but when she'd been packing their things for two long-overdue months in the country,
Summer Holiday
had planted itself in her head and she'd been helpless but to sing.

Heidi, excited because her mother's enthusiasm was infectious, had caught on quickly and it was now her new favourite song. When something was a favourite with Heidi, everyone around her knew about it. That was one of the many things Stella loved about her daughter and one of the many things other people sometimes found confronting.

‘Where we going, Mummy?' Heidi spoke from the back seat, where she sat with her favourite pink teddy bear, a yellow rubber duck toy and her imaginary friend Polar taking up the rest of the back seat. Stella had worked hard to fit all their clobber in the boot and in the front passenger seat next to her in order to leave the backseat free for Polar.

‘A beautiful little town called Bunyip Bay.' Stella smiled again at the thought of sharing two long months with Heidi. She'd taken her out of school a couple of weeks early because the school Christmas celebrations were done and dusted and Stella had been so excited at the prospect of finally having time off, she hadn't been able to wait until the holidays officially started.

‘There really bunyips?' Heidi asked. ‘Polar scared of bunyips.'

‘I'm not sure, honey, but if there are, I'm sure they're friendly bunyips. How about we go bunyip hunting first thing tomorrow?'

Another glance in the rear-view mirror showed Heidi's eyes almost as wide as the rim of her glasses. ‘You work tomorrow?'

Stella shook her head. ‘I don't have to work for two whole months, munchkin.' Thanks to a small advance for a non-­fiction book she'd written, she could enjoy some well overdue time off. ‘It'll just be you, me, the beach and lots of time to have fun together.'

‘Bunyips
and
beach?' Heidi twisted her head to look at the empty seat beside her. ‘Hear that Polar? You pack bathers?'

Heidi chatted a few more minutes to her latest in a long line of imaginary friends and then resumed her singing of
Summer Holiday
. Stella absentmindedly joined in, but her mind was full of thoughts of what lay ahead. It felt like she'd been planning this holiday forever and she couldn't wait to arrive.

As a working single mum Stella had never been able to spend as much time with her daughter as she wanted to. All things considered, Heidi was well adjusted and the teachers and other children at her school were like an extended family, but that didn't stop Stella's guilt. She didn't regret any of the decisions she'd made regarding her daughter, but she wished she could offer her more. Not material things – they didn't matter much to a child like Heidi. But time. It wasn't that she hated her work, quite the contrary, but she resented the need to work and the time it took away from Heidi. She'd love to be a stay-at-home-mum but due to lack of support from her family or Heidi's father's family that was impossible. Thankfully Heidi was older now and went to a fabulous school, because none of her daycare centres had been very good at coping with her needs.

Stella shook her head. She didn't want to waste any time thinking about the past or what could have been, she simply wanted to make the most of the special time they had ahead. She had so many plans for how they would spend the next couple of months – bushwalks, swimming at the beach, just hanging together. And the best part? This Christmas she wouldn't have to work at the restaurant and leave Heidi with very supportive friends.

One such friend, Joanna, who also had a child with special needs, thought Stella was insane for choosing a farmstay cottage for their holiday. When Stella said she couldn't afford a resort, like the one Joanna, her husband and son often stayed in, she'd suggested a caravan park, so Heidi might meet up with other kids. But the truth was, Stella wanted to give Heidi a chance to experience some of what she had growing up in the country. The open space, the fresh air, the animals… And if she were even more honest, she missed living on a farm and hoped the next two months would help ease some of the pain in her heart also.

‘Polar needs to wee,' piped up Heidi.

Stella eyed the ‘Welcome To Bunyip Bay' sign on the side of the road. ‘We're almost there. Can Polar wait ten minutes till we get to the farm?'

Heidi frowned slightly. ‘Is animals on farm?'

‘It's a sheep and crop farm,' Stella informed, ‘so I'm guessing there'll be hundreds of sheep and maybe a couple of working dogs. But there might also be foxes, wild rabbits and if you're lucky, maybe even a kangaroo.'
And snakes and spiders
, she added silently, not wanting to scare her daughter. ‘Can you hold going to the toilet a few more minutes?'