Right As Rain (26 page)

“Sure,” he said.

He accepted the glass she offered then watched as she poured the wine.

“Here's to the Gatehouse,” he said as they touched glasses.

“To the Gatehouse,” she repeated.

Mackenna took a plate of food from the fridge and put it on the table. The two of them sat opposite each other and sipped their wine while she picked at the food and told him all about Simon, the restaurant owner from Melbourne and his mates. She was animated in her excitement, in spite of her busy weekend and the lateness of the hour. Hugh listened, asking the odd question, and then Adam's name popped up.

“Is Adam back?” he asked. The Kiwi was a good bloke. Instinct told Hugh there was a connection between him and Mackenna.

“No,” she said quickly. “At least he was. Just for last night. Thank goodness, or I would have gone under. He's back in Melbourne again now. His grandfather died this morning.”

“Oh.” Hugh felt guilty over his little pang of jealousy.

Mackenna stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. She looked done in.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It's been a big weekend.”

“I should go.”

She stood up quicker than he did.

“I'm glad you called in, Hugh. I hope it wasn't too boring for you?”

“No.” He smiled. He wanted to kiss her but she'd already started moving ahead of him to the door. “I'm glad I could help out.”

She walked him to his car then stepped back as he hesitated, one hand on the open door. There was no opportunity for a kiss, not even one on the cheek without it being awkward.

“I probably won't see you much this week,” she said. “We'll be crutching.”

“I don't have anything on my books tomorrow if I can be of any help.”

“No,” she said, “but thanks. You've already helped so much. I'm sure your mum would like to see a bit more of you. It must be getting close to your heading overseas.”

He got into his four-wheel drive and lowered the window. “A bit longer yet. I have to wait for my visa.”

“Goodnight then,” she said and stepped back even further.

He gave her a wave and backed out, totally bamboozled now about his feelings and with no idea of hers. He'd never had much success working out women.

Mackenna pushed the large bristle broom over the rough cement floor of the shearing shed with great vigour. A cloud of dust rose around her. She'd risen early after a restless night and with no-one to help her prepare for crutching, she'd come straight to the shed. It had taken a while to fix the grinding wheel and a hinge had been half off one of the doors. After that she'd picked up the broom. Physical work was a good way to banish the melancholy thoughts that had plagued her half the night.

When she flung her arms around Hugh yesterday in welcome, it had suddenly dawned on her what Adam had seen, or thought he had seen. She often kissed Hugh on the cheek, patted his arm, gave him a hug. And if someone like Adam got the wrong idea, what were others thinking? What was Hugh thinking for that matter?

She gave the broom a final shove to push the pile of dirt out the shed door and burst into a fit of sneezing. The dogs barked but it was the sound of a vehicle that had attracted their attention. She raised bleary eyes and peered through the swirling dust. She expected to see Cam. It was ten o'clock and he was late. To her surprise it was Patrick's car that rolled into view and even more surprising was the relief she felt. She hadn't been looking forward to working alone with Cam after his odd behaviour on Saturday, and another pair of hands for crutching would be useful.

She propped the broom against the wall and made her way to the house. Patrick and Yasmine were both getting out of the car as she reached it.

“Hello,” Mackenna called. “Did Mum and Dad get away okay?”

“Hi.” Yassie greeted her with a wave. “Yes, they're off on their big holiday.”

As usual Yasmine looked like she'd just stepped out of a fashion magazine with her boots and layers of clothing. Today the black was teemed with shades of grey and splashes of mauve. Vivid purple lipstick glistened on her lips.

“I wasn't expecting you so soon,” Mackenna said.

“I told you I'd be back.” Patrick unloaded the bags with a thump.

“I know. I just wasn't sure when. It's great to see you,” Mackenna said brightly. She didn't want to put Patrick offside. “There's a lot to be done.”

“I've brought food,” Yasmine said and rushed to the boot of the car.

She raised it to reveal eskys and boxes.

“Oh, what . . .?” Mackenna was gobsmacked.

“Your mum said there were sausage rolls in the freezer and I've picked up loaves of bread and all sorts of fillings for sandwiches. My mum helped me cook on the weekend. We've made little quiches ... I hope that's alright. Patrick said it wasn't working men's food, but hot sausage rolls and quiches usually disappear off the plate. Then there are cakes and – ”

“Let's get them inside, Yas,” Patrick said. “You can show off your cakes.”

He met Mackenna's eyes over the top of Yasmine's head and winked.

“Don't tease, Patrick.” Yasmine handed one of the boxes to Mackenna. “Mum and I are into cake decorating. We thought this was a good chance to practise. After looking at computer screens all day I find it very therapeutic.”

Mackenna led the way inside with Yasmine's bubbly voice following along behind. By the time they'd finished unloading, Mackenna decided it would be fine to leave the responsibility of the food to Yasmine. There was enough to feed several crutching teams.

Barking announced the arrival of another vehicle.

“I hope that's Cam,” Mackenna said, and made her way to the door. “Will you be right to give us a hand with the stock, Patrick?”

“That's why I'm here.” He pulled at his shirt. “I'll change and be right with you.”

Mackenna hurried outside, already mapping who would shift what where. Cam had pulled up in his ute near the shearing shed. She strode across the yard towards him.

“What time do you call this?” she said as he unfolded himself from his ute.

“Sorry, boss. Had a flat tyre.”

Cam looked bleary-eyed and dishevelled. Somehow she thought there was more to his lateness than a troublesome tyre.

“Where's the truck?”

“Still got gear on it. We don't need it, do we? I'll have it back tomorrow.”

He gave her one of his big smiles but she didn't respond.

“I'll expect it tomorrow then,” she said. “I need you to bring in the first mob from the back paddock. Patrick's here now so he can help.”

Mackenna thought she saw a slight roll of his eyes. He and Patrick had appeared to be thick as thieves when she first came home. She'd rather they worked together. She preferred the company of King and Prince to Cam.

“I'll take the dogs and bring in the mob from the swamp paddock. I'll bring them in here.” She waved at the pens beside the shearing shed. The dozen pregnant ewes Lyle had brought in were already there. “You can put the other mob in the holding paddock.”

Patrick turned up and greeted Cam. The two of them started talking about football before Mackenna could get a word in. She left them to it a minute while she cast her eyes over the ewes. They'd all had dirty wool around their backsides and her dad had tidied them up before he'd gone. She could see no sign of flies.

Patrick and Cam joined her at the rails. “They're in good condition,” Patrick said.

“I'm a bit worried about that dirty wool,” she said.

“Isn't that why we're crutching them?”

“Nothing like a good crutch,” Cam said and nudged Patrick.

Mackenna saw the glow on Patrick's cheeks. They'd both been raised by a mother who found smutty jokes distasteful.

“You go with Cam,” she said to change the subject. She whistled the dogs to follow her to the ute. Hopefully between the two men they could bring in a mob of sheep without any problems.

An hour later, Mackenna's mood had turned from irritation to anger. She'd found two flyblown sheep amongst the mob she'd brought in. They were too sick to walk so she'd had to tie their legs and get them on the back of the ute. There were quite a few dirty bottoms amongst the rest. They could wait for tomorrow's crutching, but if she didn't do something about the sheep in the ute it would be too late. If it wasn't already.

She was wrestling them into the shearing shed when Yasmine appeared.

“Can I help?” she asked.

Mackenna swept her eyes down Yasmine's clothes to her boots. At least the heels were flat but she wasn't dressed for sheep work.

“I'll be right, thanks,” she said. She grabbed the first sheep by its legs and dragged it backwards into a pen then retuned for the other one.

“Is something wrong with them?” Yasmine followed her as she hauled the second sheep in.

“They've got flies.”

“Flies?”

Mackenna glanced from her bent position to study Yasmine's puzzled face.

“They've got faeces around their hindquarters. Flies lay eggs in it and the maggots hatch out and burrow into the wool.”

“The poor things,” Yasmine wailed. “How can that happen?”

“That's what I want to know,” Mackenna said. She took up the hand shears and began snipping away the rotten wool. “In the case of these two I'm afraid the maggots have gone further. We've been keeping an eye on the sheep regularly because conditions are conducive to flystrike. We only checked these sheep on Saturday. I can't understand how they got so bad so quickly.”

She gritted her teeth as she saw the extent of the damage. It wasn't good.

“You might want to clear out before I go any further.”

“I'm alright,” Yasmine said. “I want to learn more about what you do.”

Mackenna shook her head. “Last chance.”

“Go ahead,” Yasmine said.

Yasmine couldn't say she hadn't been warned. Mackenna held her breath, closed her mouth and poured the flystrike liquid over the clipped hind area of the sheep. Her stomach lurched as the maggots began wriggling out of the flesh. As she'd suspected, this sheep was in a bad way and the other would probably be the same.

Beside her she heard a gasp and a gurgling sound. She glanced around to see Yasmine wide-eyed with her hand clamped over her mouth. The gurgling sound came again and Mackenna watched as Yasmine's chest heaved. Suddenly the younger woman spun around and dashed outside. The groans she made as she vomited reached Mackenna's ears but there was no time to see if she was alright, the sheep needed attention. Mackenna concentrated on the task at hand, trying to control the turmoil in her own belly. By the time she'd finished her gruesome job there was no sign of Yasmine outside except for the cloud of flies on a pool of liquid.

Mackenna felt miserable – for herself, the poor sheep and also for Yasmine. She'd had a similar experience as a young girl when she'd witnessed her father dealing with a badly flyblown sheep. Suddenly she felt the need for a drink and to wash her hands. She'd check on Yasmine at the same time. She made her way to the house and called out as she went inside.

“Yasmine?”

There was no answer. Mackenna paused and listened. Then she heard the sound of running water from the direction of the bathroom.

“Yasmine?” she called again and slowly pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. Yasmine, wearing only a bra and knickers was bending over the handbasin. “I'm sorry,” Mackenna gasped and stepped back.

“It's okay.” Yasmine splashed water on her face. “I got vomit all over me. I had to strip off.”

“I'll . . .” Mackenna turned away not knowing what to say. It wasn't the sight of Yasmine stripped to her underwear that surprised her – it was the round bulge of her belly protruding from her reedy body, as if she'd swallowed a basketball.

“Stay,” Yasmine said, “please.”

Mackenna remained stuck to the spot, not knowing what to say or do. Yasmine was pregnant and obviously well advanced, and Mackenna had never realised. She felt even guiltier about the poor girl witnessing that horrible scene in the shed.

“You must be shocked.” Yasmine turned her face to Mackenna. Mascara was smudged around her eyes and the beautiful purple lipstick was smeared down her chin. She looked like a sad clown. “I wanted to tell you all sooner,” she said.

Mackenna offered her a towel. “Mum and Dad don't know?” she asked.

“No.”

“What about Patrick?”

“Of course I know.”

They both spun at the sound of his voice.

Patrick pushed past Mackenna and put his arm around Yasmine. “What's happened?”

The bathroom was suddenly very crowded. Mackenna shuffled back to the door.

“The sheep . . .” Yasmine began but petered out.

“I had to clean up some flyblown sheep,” Mackenna explained.

“It turned my stomach. I'm all right now.”

“You should never have been there.” Patrick glared past her to Mackenna.

“Oh, Patrick, those poor animals.” Yasmine covered her mouth with her hand again.

“Try not to think about it,” Mackenna said. “Give me your clothes. I'll put them in the machine then I'll make you a cup of tea.”

“I'll wash them,”Yasmine said quickly. “They're handwash only.” She gave Mackenna a little smile. “I'll do it later, but I would love a cup of tea, thanks.”

“I'll make the tea,” Patrick said. “Cam wants you. We've brought in the mob you asked for. There's a problem with a fence and he wants to know if you want us to bring in more sheep. I'll come back out once Yasmine's settled.”

“You go Patrick, I'm fine,”Yasmine said. “It was just a bit of a shock.”