The Bark Cutters (18 page)

‘This is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is Anthony.'

Sarah waited awkwardly as her grandfather did the introductions. He was smiling, telling everyone to sit. For a moment Sarah wondered if her grandfather had intentionally arranged Anthony's visit just to make Jeremy feel uncomfortable and for that matter, her as well. Certainly the atmosphere in the kitchen was one of unease. Sarah busied herself prising the lid off the crate with a flathead screwdriver.

‘Well, about time you arrived,' Angus said to Anthony. ‘Maybe we can get a bit of order going again on Wangallon.' He looked squarely at Jeremy as if suggesting he was adding to the current disorder. ‘I'll let you young people get acquainted,' Angus grinned, ‘then I want Anthony and Ronald to meet me in my office in ten minutes.' He tapped Anthony briefly on the shoulder as he left the kitchen.

‘Be right with you, Angus,' Anthony answered.

‘By helicopter?' Jeremy repeated, upon learning of Anthony's mode of transport. He couldn't help expressing the surprise he
felt. Angus had promised he would get Jeremy back to Sydney as soon as possible and considering how ill at ease he felt in the presence of the old patriarch, he half-expected to be rowed out by the old bugger himself. Instead he was politely watching his girlfriend unwrap chunks of cheddar, long-life milk and tinned goods in an environment as about as welcoming as a Doberman convention. ‘I'm trying to get back to Sydney.'

‘Well, Jeremy,' Anthony began, ‘the telephone line dropped out before I could let Angus know an arrival time and secondly, I had no idea that you were even here. Quite frankly, it was a fluke I caught those blokes heading in this direction.'

‘I'm prepared to pay if they'll take me.' Jeremy leaned across the table, his arms spread, palms down.

Sarah looked through the long window above the sink outside to where dirty water glistened in the noon sun. ‘Lunch anyone?' she asked lamely.

‘I'm sure you are but, at the moment, emergencies come first. That helicopter, along with every other available aircraft, is busy rescuing people who have lost their businesses.'

Anthony sounded very sure of himself, Sarah decided, as she placed insect repellent, water purification tablets and generic antibiotics on the kitchen sink. He was right – emergencies came first.

‘Anyway,' Ronald interrupted, ‘the helicopter will return in a couple of days, that's standard procedure, so we can contact the SES beforehand and let them know we want to do a lift.'

‘Right, thanks for that, Ronald,' Jeremy answered.

‘No problem. Sarah, why don't you go check on your mother, see if she wants some lunch?'

‘Okay, Dad.' Sarah didn't particularly want to leave Jeremy and Anthony alone together but on the other hand she didn't want her mother coming into the kitchen and giving Anthony the third degree either. She had calmed down since their evacuation from
West Wangallon, but her mind seemed a little more confused than usual. ‘Right then, I'll just go check on Mum.' Her father followed her out of the kitchen. Anthony smiled in her direction. Jeremy's glance was far more subdued.

Sue was in one of the spare bedrooms knitting a jumper. Sarah was pretty sure she'd been working on the same piece last Christmas. ‘How you doing, Mum? Do you need anything?'

Sue stopped the click clack of the knitting needles and looked over her shoulder through the window. ‘Angie was just telling me that we should plant some pansies after the water recedes. It's a good idea, don't you think?'

Sarah followed her mother's gaze out the window. ‘Angie? Do you mean Granny Angie?'

‘Well, of course, Sarah. Who else would I be talking about?'

Sarah pulled the thick yellow curtains wider. Outside the water was brown in colour. ‘Mum, Granny Angie died, remember? She had asthma. The doctor said it was environmental, from the dust and everything.'

Sue resumed knitting. ‘Well, she never left and we are going to plant pansies.'

To some extent her mother was right. Granny Angie suffered from asthma all her life yet she flatly refused to leave Wangallon. She died one afternoon when Angus was out mustering. Her puffer had run out. They found her lying in her beloved garden among the geraniums, a basket of cuttings by her side. ‘Pansies are a very good idea,' Sarah said as she patted her mother's shoulder. ‘Granny Angie would like that.'

Left alone in the kitchen, Jeremy and Anthony looked at each other for a minute or two before Jeremy decided to break the silence. ‘So, I was wondering when we'd eventually meet. You seem to figure fairly prominently in the goings-on up here. Sarah's told me a lot about Wangallon and you.'

Anthony poured himself a glass of water from the plastic jug on the table. ‘Well, I've been here for a while.' So, Sarah's current flame was a yuppie. He had that man-about-town, no-dirt-under-my-nails look about him.

‘And you knew Cameron?' Jeremy persisted. Chatting with Anthony wasn't exactly on his list of top ten hits. Sarah talked of the old days and Anthony like they were joined at the hip and Jeremy knew how much she loved getting his yearly Christmas card. He wondered if their relationship had ever gone beyond friendship.

‘Yeah. He was a good mate of mine.'

‘Sarah talks about him all the time. I worry she can't let go. It doesn't seem healthy to me.'

‘Well, they were really close. It's not like living in the city, you don't mix with a lot of people on a regular basis, so you tend to make your own fun and have very close relationships with family members. And those two were close. Cameron looked after her like a true big brother but they were best friends as well.'

‘What was he like?'

‘Cameron? Probably about the best person you could meet. Funny, considerate, reliable and a damn good stockman. Even old Angus respected him for that.'

‘He must have been good.'

Anthony laughed. ‘Angus is tough, it's true, but his life is about survival. About keeping Wangallon alive and breathing. He wants to hand it on to the next generation, as his father, Hamish, handed it to him.'

‘That's going to be pretty difficult with Sarah in Sydney.'

Anthony began transferring the remainder of the contents of the crate from the table to the sink. ‘That depends on Sarah. Standard issue baked beans.' Anthony rolled his eyes as he held the cans aloft before setting them alongside the other foodstuffs on the sink.

‘You think she should be back here, don't you?'

‘Sarah knows it as well. She's tied to Wangallon by blood. It's her birthright. You must be able to see that.'

‘Actually I only see a young woman tied to a piece of dirt that's holding her back from her life.'

Anthony gave a sour laugh. The bloke had some audacity, waltzing in here and imagining he knew what was best for Sarah. Or maybe he was more worried about what was best for himself. ‘Well some of us are blind to reality.'

Jeremy stood up. ‘And some are blinded by what they can't have.'

Anthony figured one quick jab to the nose would do it, but while the thought of walloping Jeremy one really appealed to him, he didn't take the baited line. This was Angus's house and there was no damn way he would disrespect him or Sarah by arguing with this upstart. Besides, he reckoned that this round was already won. Gathering up the opened crate under one arm, he left the kitchen grinning. ‘See you later, Jeremy.' He wasn't the one catching the next flight out.

Sarah waved goodbye to Jeremy from the dam bank. The bubble dome of the SES helicopter glinted brightly in the sun and then gradually disappeared from sight. Shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, she listened to the dogs howling. God, she couldn't stand the noise they made anymore. Having sprayed their bodies and makeshift kennels on the back of the cattle truck
with insect repellent, hoping it would ease their faces swollen by insect bites, she hoped for some quiet but the plaintive yelps continued. Maybe she should have returned to Sydney with Jeremy. She felt strung out, exhausted and everywhere she went she was encircled by bloody, stinking water.

‘Watch you don't end up with a crate on your head.'

Sarah started at Anthony's voice.

‘Sorry.' He squatted beside her on the bank, slapping at the mosquitoes feasting on his neck and face. Anthony pointed skyward. ‘They radioed in to say they were coming and they've done their circle, Sarah.'

The RAAF
Hercules
flew low, its noise deafening as it made its approach towards them. The dogs recommenced their howling and as if in sympathy, birds screeched from nearby trees. Sarah watched in anticipation as two crew members, secured by lines, pushed a small crate from the plane. It landed with a thud, the heavy wood splintering, leaving deep cracks in the timber. Sarah set off to retrieve the damaged crate, praying that the medications ordered for her mother arrived safely.

‘Good one, fellas,' Anthony called after the plane, overtaking Sarah as he waved a salute. ‘These crates are meant to be unbreakable.' Hoisting the crate onto his shoulder, he ignored Sarah's outstretched hands – the girl still felt she had to do everything. ‘It's a bit heavy.' He stumbled down the bank and then, wrestling with his small boat, he deposited the crate within. ‘Hope old Angus wasn't expecting a ten-year-old whiskey with this lot.' Tying his boat to Sarah's, he became aware of her eyes on him. ‘Thought we better be a bit cautious with the fuel situation.'