The Golden Land (6 page)

‘What about the people you work with? Have you made friends? Hung out together after work? Are you working with the same people all the time?'

‘Not really, said Mark, ‘I work with different people a lot because I move around to different jobs. Everyone has different rosters, too, and they seem to come and go, quit and move on, very regularly. Most don't see it as a longterm job. Like me, they're in it for the money. Hanging out! I'm too buggered to socialise. Twelve-hour days are pretty full-on, takes its toll.'

‘I'm trying to imagine it. Can you take some photos?'

‘We'll see.'

In the beginning Natalie had missed Mark terribly. When he came home she changed her routine to fit in with him. Because he slept late for the first couple of days, she kept the kids home from their preschool so that he could spend time with them when he woke up. She appreciated taking time-out for herself, even if it was just for a doctor's appointment or grocery shopping in peace without the kids, or getting the car serviced. And she delighted in the four of them spending time together, going to the beach for a swim or packing a picnic lunch and finding a park with lots of things for the children to play on.

As time went by, Natalie found that she adjusted to Mark's long absences. She liked not having to prepare elaborate meals, especially when it was so hard to cook in their kitchen. Eating an egg and a piece of fruit with the children was much easier, and she found that having only herself to please could make life very simple. While Mark was away, she took over those jobs that he had usually done, including mowing the grass in the front of the house and, while it added to her workload, Natalie felt a small twinge of pride in managing everything. At night, when she was on her own and the children were asleep, she refined her plans for the renovations. The more she lived in her house, the more she loved it. She wasn't bothering to watch TV of an evening but instead listened to her iPod as she made sketches, took measurements and flipped through country-inspired decorating magazines.

The kitchen was not just going to be replaced. She wanted to enlarge it by knocking out the wall between it and the laundry. And what had been a small office at the end of the hall, opening onto the side garden, she would turn into a new laundry with a fold-down clothesline on the outside wall facing the morning sun. The fourth and fifth bedrooms, which were fairly big but dark and depressing, she planned to make into one big play area for the kids, with one of the walls to be replaced with folding plantation doors. These would open onto the sheltered and fenced front garden, which she would plant with tropical flowers, or maybe herb beds, and perhaps construct a sandpit there, as well.

She planned to throw white paint over all the dark rooms with their old stained-wood panelling, which Mark had said was only wood veneer anyway. She'd decided to go with a colour scheme of white and indigo blue with splashes of yellow. Fresh, clean, cool.

She'd get Mark to slash back some of the rampant tropical growth that shaded so much of the garden and verandah and harboured, as she'd discovered, hordes of mosquitoes. The length of scrubby grass that stretched from their fence to the edge of the canal needed work. She wished she could wave a wand and transform it into a green lawn with a white picket fence and gate flanked by cheerful white daisies. She'd add a small path to a jasmine-covered pergola, under which they would walk to reach the landing, where there would be chairs ready for fishing, and a little boat moored.

But most of her plans would have to wait. All these dreams cost money. Poor Mark. He was working so hard so they could afford it all, thought Natalie, though I'm still chipping away at the small jobs.

One night Sarah, her mother, called. ‘We've sold our place! Never thought we'd find a buyer for the farm, at least not at the price we're asking.'

‘Congratulations. Is Steve pleased?'

‘Frankly, he's in a bit of shock. Reality sinking in. And it's a short settlement time and you can imagine how long it's going to take to clear out and pack. Do you want to come and help? Bring the kids down for the weekend?'

‘Don't know how much help I'll be with those two in tow, but I'd love to come.'

Natalie hurried through the rain to the shed behind the farmhouse. It was already overflowing with piles of packing boxes. She stacked the one she was carrying on top of the others and drew a breath as she surveyed the pillars of brown cartons that held the essentials of her mother's life and which Sarah insisted she had to bring to her new home.

Natalie didn't know whether to laugh or cry. ‘There's no way!' she exclaimed aloud.

Her mother and stepfather were downsizing and facing an enormous challenge in packing up a farmhouse where they'd had sheds and a double garage in which to store things. They were moving to a neat house with a tidy garden on the ridge above Lismore.

Natalie knew that her mother was pleased they were moving. Sarah had decided that the daily commute from the farm to Lismore, where she owned a fashion boutique, was getting too much.

‘Fifty minutes on a good day because the road is full of potholes and it's prone to flooding if there's even a drop of rain!' Sarah often said. Steve had been finding the farm tiring ever since a little accident had thrown his back out, so Sarah was pleased she was able to persuade him it was time to move. And when that buyer turned up and agreed to their price for the place, lock, stock and barrel, well, Steve felt he couldn't refuse. He was a bit sad about leaving his family home. But he had no kids to leave it to and Sarah was confident he'd be happy once they were settled.

Natalie certainly hoped so. Her mother had married Steve just after Natalie had graduated from university with an education degree. She was thrilled that her mother had made a new life, and she liked Steve, a solid, calm, goodnatured dairy farmer. Natalie and Mark enjoyed visiting the farm in the tranquil valley where they were always welcome.

Natalie knew that leaving the farm would be a huge change for Steve and hoped her mother's confidence that he'd be happy pottering about in a small suburban garden with neighbours close by and town just down the hill was not misplaced. Life in town would be dramatically different from the lush green paddocks encircled by the dramatic mountain range where the only noises were from the small creek, the call of birds and the occasional lowing of the cows. Steve, however, was the first to admit that he wouldn't miss rising from bed in the pre-dawn dark, the occasional frost underfoot in winter, to milk the sometimes uncooperative animals, and the endless cleaning of the bails. But still, he loved the simple routine of his days and the placid company of his herd.

Although Sarah worked six days a week herself, she was quick to say, with a laugh, that being married to a dairy farmer meant no holidays for either of them. She'd had little to do with the dairy herd but she helped Steve in the vegetable garden and enjoyed having friends over for long elaborate Sunday lunches that she spent hours preparing.

Natalie stared across the wet paddocks, thinking that this must be what Ireland looked like: lustrous emerald green, mist curling on the top of the ranges, a gentle drizzly rain. There was a lush softness to the Northern Rivers compared with the Gold Coast. Natalie had never travelled overseas and now, with their hefty mortgage, an overseas trip was out of reach. Natalie was grateful they had a house that she loved and which she knew they could transform into a very beautiful home, but she was sad that holidays at the farm were coming to an end.

Her musing was broken by her mother calling, ‘Natalie! I need more flatpacks. Can you bring me some, please?'

Natalie shook her head. The amount of stuff her mother had brought to Steve's when they married was incredible. There were boxes, cupboards and trunks that Natalie knew had not been opened for years. Some had been packed away after Natalie's father died, others came from her grandmother's house. Sarah had kept putting off sorting them, partly because she had the luxury of storage space at Steve's farm.

‘It'll be my retirement project,' she told the family when they teased her about them. But now downsizing was proving to be a headache. Natalie dragged out several more cartons and hurried back to the house.

‘Mum, this is a nightmare. You'll have to have a clearing sale to get rid of it all. I mean, what's in all those old boxes?'

‘I can't remember. Some of it's from your grandmother.'

‘Well let's go through them. This is the time. You can't take all this to your new house. It won't fit and I don't want the job of having to sort it all out when you kick the bucket,' said Natalie cheerfully.

Sarah laughed. ‘You're right. A good rainy day job. I'll make a pot of tea, you get some of the old boxes together. It's lucky that young Imogen down the road is happy looking after Charlotte and Adam.'

Three hours later, the lounge room was littered with piles of books, china plates, ornaments, LP records, clothes, packets of letters and several shoeboxes of photographs.

‘I see why you put off going through all this,' said Natalie. ‘Do you know why you packed all of this stuff up?'

‘Not really. I was so emotional at the time, I don't recall much about it. I hope I didn't throw out anything valuable.'

‘Mum, I don't think you threw out anything!' Natalie was beginning to wonder if they should have started this job.

Sarah was wallowing in nostalgia as she went through her mother's possessions. ‘This triggers so many memories,' she said sighing.

‘Mum, the to-go pile isn't very big. Let's try and cull a bit more,' said Natalie, fearful that all the mess was going to be repacked and stored again. ‘I can't take any of it to my place. Mark would have a fit.'

‘That's probably because he's a no-frills man who spends most of his time in a tent.'

‘Mum! He doesn't live in a tent. Actually, the conditions in the camp sound great. Better than our place in its current state! The mining company provides excellent facilities and he's earning enough money so we can save up for the renos.'

Sarah sighed. They'd been over this before. ‘I still think it's very hard on you, carrying the load of the house and the kids. Don't you miss your job? You're such a gifted teacher, darling.'

‘Thanks, Mum. I love teaching, and I have every intention of going back, but I love being a mother even more. There'll be time to go back to teaching when the kids are older.'

‘It sounds like Mark has a holiday when he comes home!'

‘He has an exhausting job. And I want him to have quality time with the children,' said Natalie shortly. To change the direction of the conversation she picked up a small box from a pile of her grandmother's little treasures. ‘What's this?'

‘Oh, that sat on Mum's bookcase for years. Came from her mother, your great-granny Florence. I have no idea what it is. Anything else in there with it?'

‘A bundle of old papers. Some knick-knacks. A set of thimbles,' said Natalie.

The old box intrigued her so she opened it and lifted out an ornately lacquered panel. ‘What's this? Looks like a fat ruler.'

When she held it up, it opened into a series of maroon folds joined together by narrow ribs of polished bamboo. ‘What on earth is it? Some sort of wall hanging?' she asked, fiddling with it, turning it over. ‘There are pictures on this side and weird squiggles on the other. Is that writing? Mum, this side is covered with the most exquisite pictures. Look, that's an elephant. Do you think this is Indian?'

‘Heavens, I have no idea. I don't think I've ever seen it out of the box. Do you want it? Or could we sell it?' said Sarah. She delved into another box. ‘Oh, god, her old furs!'

‘Get rid of them,' shrieked Natalie, holding her nose. ‘Ohh, the poor creature. It's moulting.' She recoiled as her mother held up a ratty, balding fox fur. ‘It's got feet! A face! Snout! Beady eyes! How could anyone wear such a thing?'

‘It was very fashionable in my grandmother's time. Imagine what would happen if this made an appearance on the red carpet now,' said Sarah with a giggle.

Natalie couldn't help smiling as she held her nose. ‘Mum, dump it in the rubbish or at least put it aside for the clearing sale.'

‘Maybe the whole lot should go. Who on earth would buy any of this stuff?'

‘Sense at last,' said Natalie as they gathered up the furs, an old beaded handbag in poor condition, some junk jewellery and several tarnished picture frames and put them in a carton.

‘What about that thing?' Sarah pointed to the box and the unusual scroll. ‘Do you think anyone would want that?'

Natalie hesitated. ‘It's sort of interesting. With its little pictures and funny writing.' She put it to one side. ‘I'll hang on to it for a bit.'

‘Now who's being a pack rat?'

‘How's it going, girls?' Steve came in and smiled seeing his wife and stepdaughter together. ‘You two really look alike,' he said.

Natalie thought he was pleased about the move. He had been talking about a holiday, going somewhere he and Sarah could enjoy time together. He smiled broadly but then baulked at the sight of all the things spread over the floor. ‘Sarah, what's all this?'

‘Culling, sweetie. Don't worry. Just checking Mother or Granny didn't stash some bank notes in with this junk, so we can take it to the tip with a clear conscience,' said Sarah.

‘I'm pleased to hear it. You're going to miss having two sheds, a barn and a garage to store your things in.'

‘It's her new resolution, to pare back,' said Natalie. ‘Streamline her lifestyle to fit in a modern house. You won't know yourselves.'

Steve didn't answer, but looked unconvinced.

‘He wants to keep some vintage farm machinery,' said Sarah. ‘As if we'll have any use for that.'