Wildflower Ridge Read online

  ‘Tim? Tim? Tim?’

  Eddie’s voice echoed down the corridor. They sprang apart as the footsteps drew closer. Tim drew a ragged breath, adapting to the abrupt change of focus. He looked back at Penny as he strode out of the room, unsure whether her expression was one of relief or disappointment.

  Penny cleaned the hall and packed up on autopilot, unable to look Tim in the eye as she shepherded the children back to the school minivan and made her hasty escape. This is not me, she admonished herself, looking into the rear-view mirror. Flushed cheeks, cheesecake-speckled hair and dilated pupils reiterated her betrayal. She felt like dying of shame.

  How can I possibly be angry at Vince for his infidelity when my hormones are running wild at the sight of a semi-naked torso? Her conscience was scathing, a headache nagging at her temples as the car crunched along the gravel driveway of the farmhouse. You almost kissed Tim Patterson … you stupid, stupid girl.

  She skidded to a halt at the sight on the front doorstep. A plastic-wrapped bouquet of roses sat by the front door. Her jaw dropped as she spotted an aqua box nestled in among the tightly furled blooms. Penny jogged up the steps, horror rather than anticipation propelling her towards the delivery.

  She tugged at the white ribbon, her heart pounding. She pulled out a pair of exquisite silver earrings with love heart-shaped pendants that matched the necklace sitting on her bedside table. A sharp breath escaped from her lips, and she tried to pinpoint the emotion.

  Relief that it wasn’t the ring? Guilt for her behaviour an hour ago? Irritation that Vince thought he could buy her affections? The realisation that up until now his mistakes had always been papered over with excuses and expensive gifts? Disgusted by her internal conflict and how close she had just come to kissing another man, Penny sat down on the wicker chair and hugged Tim’s green shirt around herself. She thought about Vince and the future they had planned so perfectly. She contrasted it with a life on the farm with a hard-working country boy by her side. For the first time in a long time, Penny wished she could ask her mother’s advice.

  Twenty-nine

  Angus leaned a broom against the tin wall and flicked off the shearing shed lights, plunging the cavernous space into near darkness. He whistled his way past Penny, the room flooding again with sunlight as he rolled open the large sliding door. Fresh air rushed in, diluting the shed’s ingrained smell of lanolin and sheep. They walked together down the rickety steps, Penny holding the bag of mismatched crockery from their pre-shearing clean-up.

  ‘So, you’re all set then, Dad. When are the shearers coming?’

  ‘Depends on whether this wet spell holds up. Booked ’em for next month, should be finished sowing the crops by then. I’ll go shift that mob in the high paddock closer to home, make sure they’re all tickety-boo.’

  Penny stood between the ute and the quad bike and eyed her father. The Akubra shaded his face, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows even though it was an icy eight degrees in the pale sunshine.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said shortly, anticipating her next comment.

  She asked it, anyway.

  ‘Are you sure you should take the old bike up to that paddock?’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay another fortnight, see out your full ten weeks, instead of racing back to the city?’

  ‘Dad, I’ve got things to sort out. I can’t hide away here forever. It’s time for me to go.’ The thought of seeing Tim again put her on edge. She wanted to fast-forward the afternoon and put a safe, 400-kilometre buffer between herself and temptation. She hadn’t mentioned Vince’s infidelity, and there was no way she’d be filling her dad in on the extra reason propelling her back to the city. The little voice inside her head, reminding her of what had almost happened in the hall bathroom, was like an impatient bus conductor, frantically screaming ‘all aboard’.

  Angus shook his head.

  ‘I guess we’re both old enough to make up our own minds.’

  Penny tried one last time.

  ‘The ute would handle it just as well, it’s not too wet yet. Rusty could hunt the sheep down from the highest parts.’ The dog wagged his black tail, his head cocked to the side, awaiting his command.

  Angus climbed onto the seat and started the engine, whistling Rusty up behind him. Penny bit back a reminder about his helmet.

  ‘You take the ute home, there’s a girl. I’ll see you back there for smoko before you leave.’

  He gave Penny a quick wave and set off, dirt flicking up behind the knobbly tyres as he headed towards the far end of the property. She slammed the ute door shut, frustrated that he would take the quad bike across the slippery hills when he could use the ute.

  It’s a damn good thing I’m leaving today. I have well and truly overstayed my welcome, she thought as she crunched the ute into gear.

  Penny yanked the clothes from the wooden hangers and folded them with a speed and technique that would put a professional retail worker to shame. She placed them, one by one, in the suitcases on Angie’s old bed. This whole plan was cursed from the start, she thought, snapping the lid shut on the first gigantic suitcase and moving to the next. If I hadn’t come all the way out here, I could have kept a closer eye on Vince, worked out a compromise to both stay in Melbourne or both go to Sydney. I should have insisted, listened to my gut instinct to stay. Then again, I should have been able to trust him, dammit.

  Penny stalked to the chest of drawers and pulled out the jeans, shirts and woollen jumpers she’d need for the bitter Melbourne winter. The thought made her pack faster and it was no time before she zipped the third and fourth suitcases shut. She let her mind wander to Boutique Media as she finished packing, the clients who would have missed her, the colleagues who would welcome her back, and the mass of work she could immerse herself in. She pulled the suitcases roughly off the bed. Their bulk took up much of the hallway, so she stacked them on top of each other, leaving a passage just narrow enough to squeeze past.

  Arms crossed over her chest, she took one last glance around the dim bedroom. The curtain billowed and a gust of wind raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Almost like the goosebumps that Tim had caused at the hall yesterday. She slammed the cupboard shut, making the photo frames and knick-knacks shudder.

  The sky darkened, storm clouds rolling across the hills with the much-anticipated autumn break. The silos were brimming with barley and wheat waiting to be sown, spare tractor parts had been squirrelled into the shed over the previous weeks to ensure they were a step ahead of any possible delays, and the massive machinery had been serviced in readiness for the significant workout. All of which would be done in her wake.

  The clouds were now almost a steel-grey and Penny swallowed back a sudden urge to check the weather forecast to see how much rain was expected in the next twenty-four hours. Get a grip, Penny; it’s of no interest to you. Coming home was a mistake, and there’s only a few hours until you’ll be on the road, closer to where you belong.

  She walked across to the window and closed it. The first raindrops beat against the glass, their trajectory down the pane echoing the disappointment in her stomach. Her phone lit up with a message and Jade’s name appeared on the screen.

  Spare bed is all yours. Wine waiting. Ice cream in freezer. Takeaway menus ready. Drive safely, Pen xx J.

  Penny grabbed her car keys from the bedside table, bumping a silver photo frame. She picked it up, puzzled. It hadn’t been there this morning. She touched the sepia portrait gently, smiling sadly at her ten-year-old self, face shadowed by a straw hat obliterating everything except an uneven-toothed grin, the collar of a denim shirt and a small hand clenched in the thumbs up position. She removed the frame backing and reached inside for the print. Penny ran her fingers across her mother’s handwriting.

  ‘When I grow up, I want to be a farmer’—Penny 1996.

  She didn’t remember posing for the photo, but she recalled the passion with which she’d declared her innocent career ambitions to anyone who would l
isten. Dad must have put it there while I was out.

  ‘That ship has well and truly sailed,’ she murmured to her pre-teen self, tucking the photograph into her handbag. Penny closed the door behind her.

  Thirty

  Stacking the last mug on the draining rack, Penny scanned the land out the window. Shadows were spearing across the paddocks, the sun drawing closer to the mountains and casting a golden glow over the landscape. It’s just impatience to get going before all those kangaroos come out, she told herself, trying to magic away the niggling worry about Angus in the high paddock. She sipped from her travel mug of tea, still tongue-tinglingly hot. He should be back by now. She thought of the determined look in her father’s eye as he’d slung his leg over the bike this afternoon.

  She snapped the travel mug lid shut. Another half hour, she resolved. Lara will have a field day if I raise a missing person alarm after only one hour.

  Water trickled over the side of the windscreen wiper reservoir, and Penny pulled the hose away before shutting the car bonnet and reaching for the squeegee. She washed the windscreen with gusto, scrubbing away the layer of dust that had settled during the eight-week hiatus in the hay barn. He probably went the long way around, or perhaps he’s going extra slow to avoid running the rams. She looked at her watch.

  Relief washed over Penny as she heard a dog barking. She shaded her vision against the setting sun and saw Rusty and the other kelpies bounding up the laneway. The sides of their mouths foamed with lather, tongues hanging out as they panted and dropped down by her side. The quad bike—and Angus—were nowhere to be seen.

  The sound of country music pulsated through the shed, and Tim yelled above Adam Brand’s latest hit.

  ‘Eddie? Grab me the spanner.’

  Tim lay flat on his back, a headlamp illuminating the parts of the engine he was working on. He could hear his brother’s footsteps, coarse red dirt grinding like sandpaper on concrete, and called out again.

  ‘Eddie?’

  Grease dripped down onto his forehead. Tim groaned, wondering why he’d chosen to do an engine service today, why he’d lied to his boss for the first time and asked for an afternoon off to combat a fabricated headache. Just another day or two and the awkwardness between Mac and me will be more bearable, he told himself.

  ‘The spanner, Eddie. Next to the tyre.’

  He reached a hand out and felt the weight of the tool pressed into his palm.

  ‘Cheers, mate.’

  He tightened his grip on the object, sighing as he realised Eddie had given him his phone, not the spanner. Tim drew the phone to his side. It’s probably afternoon tea time anyway. He struggled to adjust to the bright screen and squinted at the display. Three missed calls from McIntyre Park. His pulse kicked up a notch as he improvised with a pair of pliers to tighten the bolts. Mac? Or Angus needing a hand?

  Tim shuffled out from under the vehicle, wiping his greasy hands on a stained workshop rag. Immersed in organising his toolbox, Eddie threw Tim a disgruntled look when the music dipped in volume. Tim brushed the dirt from the side of his face and pressed the phone to his ear.

  A smile danced on his lips as he heard Mac’s voice on the recording, but his expression quickly changed as her anxiety came through.

  ‘Tim? Dad’s not home. Hoping he’s with you in another paddock or something … Call me back.’

  He grabbed his jacket from the workbench and released the jack that had raised the ute to a workable height. Eddie clambered into the passenger seat as Tim listened to the remaining two messages. Mac’s voice became more strained as she told him she was about to start searching. Tim gunned the V8 engine and shot down the driveway, the workshop lights still blazing and music playing to an absent audience.

  Gospel singing cut through the tense air in the ute cab, but neither Penny, Lara nor Eddie paid any attention to the local radio station. Penny craned her neck around, her chin almost on Eddie’s shoulder as she scanned sections of long grass and thick shelterbelts for a glimpse of the red and black quad bike.

  ‘Look, look, look,’ shouted Eddie, pointing out the window. Lara slammed on the brakes and they rocketed forward in their seats, following the line of his outstretched arm to Tim on the ag bike.

  ‘Tim, Tim, Tim.’

  Lara let out a frustrated growl and slammed the ute into gear again.

  ‘We’re looking for Dad—Angus—not Tim, Eddie.’

  Penny felt a protective surge towards the young man sitting beside her, oblivious to the situation but happy to be included.

  ‘Don’t take it out on him, Lara. He doesn’t understand.’ She received a smile from Eddie but felt her sister twisting away irritably, muttering under her breath.

  Penny braced herself against the dashboard as they hurtled down the bumpy track, coming within spitting distance of a surprised kangaroo.

  ‘Can you slow down?’

  ‘We don’t have time to fart-arse around, Penny. If Dad’s had an accident, he’ll need every extra second we can give him.’

  The craggy cliff face loomed into view, casting the last shadows of the day across the northernmost boundary of McIntyre Park. Penny’s hand went to her mouth as Tim dropped the motorbike he was riding, engine still running and wheels still spinning. He hurdled a barbed-wire fence that stood between him and a boulder in the rocky paddock. Her gasp pierced the air as she realised the stone was actually one of four black wheels pointing to the sky.

  ‘Oh shit.’ Lara stomped on the accelerator and pulled the ute up as close to the fence as possible.

  Fear wrapped itself around Penny like a cloak. Her fingers fumbled with the doorhandle, and she stumbled across Eddie to exit the vehicle before it had stopped rolling. Lara and Penny raced through the long grass, side by side. Penny’s jeans tore on the barbed wire as she skimmed the top of the fence, and blood trickled down her leg as she ran towards her father’s crumpled body. A radius of flattened grass was smeared with dark-red blood around one side of the bike, his escape attempt apparent. The mass of machinery had pinned his leg, a short, jagged bone protruding where the handlebars held it hostage. Tim crouched over his pale face.

  ‘Angus, are you okay? Angus? Angus? C’mon, mate.’

  Lara nudged him out of the way, feeling for a pulse. Penny held her breath against a silent scream. She doubled over, hot bile burning her throat, and added to the collection of McIntyre bodily fluids on the ground.

  ‘He’s alive. Call an ambulance,’ screamed Lara, casting a withering look at Penny’s heaving body.

  Penny clamped a hand over her mouth and hurried back to the fence. The four-wheel drive heading towards them jerked to a stop. Pete and Diana launched out of their car and hit the ground running. Penny called to them as they raced past.

  ‘Lara’s onto it. We’ll call for help.’

  Angie stepped out of Diana’s car too, her face pale. Her reluctance to take another step closer to the chaotic scene in the paddock was obvious; a fear of blood and gore that dated back to their mother’s accident.

  ‘Dad’s lost a lot of blood. Take Eddie back to the house and call the ambos,’ Penny panted. Eddie, who was still sitting in the ute, watched wide-eyed and fearful as she wiped the vomit from her mouth. For once, she was grateful for Lara’s presence. They would need every scrap of her medical knowledge to keep their father alive until the paramedics arrived.

  Thirty-one

  Penny sipped from the disposable cup, cringing. The catering coffee was barely drinkable, unable to mask the taste of chlorinated town water that matched the bleach-scented hospital waiting room. Instead of the swarms of staff, interns, patients and visitors she’d dealt with in the city, the Horsham hospital was quiet with a buzz of country efficiency. She tossed the half-empty cup into the bin as the emergency room doors opened. A nurse looked up from her clipboard, calling to the child cradling an arm in the corner. Penny rushed past the child and his mother to speak with the nurse.

  ‘Excuse me, is there any update on my dad—Angus
McIntyre? The ambulance brought him in an hour ago … from Bridgefield?’

  The nurse shook her head as she held the door open for the new patients.

  ‘Like I said last time, they’re still doing their best to stabilise him. We’ll give you an update as soon as we can.’

  Penny slumped back into her seat. The quiet room was providing way too many opportunities to reflect on Angus’s injuries and yet-to-be-announced prognosis. She hesitated then reached for a magazine. Normally she avoided communal hospital literature, but tonight the need for momentary escapism trumped the potential germs. Diana shuffled closer along the row of chairs and leaned her head on Penny’s shoulder.

  ‘I hate waiting like this. It’s almost harder than waiting for the paramedics to arrive. At least they only took forty minutes.’

  ‘I’m just glad they got to him before all his veins collapsed—the ambos said they wouldn’t have got the IV in an hour later,’ said Angie, hugging her arms around her oversized jacket. She reached into the pocket and pulled out one of Angus’s handkerchiefs.

  ‘Stop harassing the nurses, Penny. They’ll tell you when they know something. And Dad might not have needed any pain relief an hour later,’ said Lara quietly. ‘By then, he might have been dead.’

  ‘You would’ve laughed if I’d raised the alarm an hour earlier, Lara. Don’t even try and pretend otherwise. You could have put us both in hospital hooning around the farm the way you did. Eddie, too.’

  ‘That’s rich coming from someone who caused this whole accident.’

  ‘What? I told him not to take the quad bike. I told anyone who’d listen how damn dangerous those vehicles are. Nobody. Wanted. A Bar. Of. It.’ Penny forced the words out through a clenched jaw, pressing her lips together.