Bottlebrush Creek Read online

  Violet looked up at her, tail wagging. The pup licked her hand once again before wandering over to sniff at the dead snake. Angie sank to the ground as shame ripped through her. Who’s the barbarian now?

  Rob pulled up beside the cottage and stretched as he emerged from the ute. It had been a long day on the tools. There was no sign of Angie or Claud, but Violet seemed happy to see him. He pulled the washing off the clothesline and took the basket inside before unclipping her from the kennel, then settled under the verandah with a cold beer. He chewed on his lip as he scrolled through the bank account. A familiar fear gripped him. Angie thought she had plenty to worry about with the biting, the dahlia society breathing down her neck and her newfound paranoia about snakes, but it was nothing like the fear of seeing their bank account sink closer and closer to the red.

  At this rate, they’d soon be out of funds. He logged out of their shared account and opened the business account he’d set up for Bottlebrush Building Company. The O’Connells’ marble benchtops had taken a huge chunk out of his account and the credit cards had also taken a hammering this month.

  He closed the app, loosened the collar of his shirt and took a long swig. Best keep that one to myself a little longer. Ange’s got enough on her plate already.

  Her hatchback pulled into the driveway moments later, and Angie gave him the briefest wave before heading inside. Still angry. Claudia ran to him.

  A shadow fell on the outdoor table and Rob turned to see his brother standing in his front yard.

  Rob was hurt by Claudia’s delighted response.

  ‘Uncle Max!’ she said, tossing aside the book she’d been showing him and racing to his brother’s side. Just as she’d taken to her grandfather, Claudia was instantly smitten with her uncle. He looked down at the beer in his hand, feeling like knocking it back in one go.

  Could this afternoon get any worse?

  ‘Hey, Claudia. How’s Baxter going?’ said Max, picking up the stuffed dog and pretending to make it bark.

  ‘Baxter’s not a real dog, silly. He doesn’t talk—’

  ‘Build me a sandcastle, Claud,’ Rob said, giving her a gentle push towards the sandpit. Who the hell does Max think he is, waltzing in here and buddying up to my kid? Why couldn’t he just piss off?

  Max ran a finger over the initials they’d carved into the outdoor table as young boys. The deep pocket-knife grooves had earned them a belting from John and a weekend spent scraping dried cow crap off the laneway and carrying it to their mother’s rose garden.

  ‘Tried to catch you a few times,’ Max said.

  Rob ripped off pieces of the beer label. ‘Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want anything to do with you.’ He looked at Max, wanting his words to wound, and was irritated when Max merely shrugged.

  His brother nodded at the new timber cladding. ‘Never thought you’d want to come back either, but here we both are. Remember the plans we had for this place? Ivan always said he’d give us first dibs when he put it up for sale.’

  Rob was on his feet, his hands balled up by his sides. The chair clattered to the floor. ‘That was pie-in-the-sky stuff. Don’t stand here and pretend everything’s fine. You lost that right when you lost all our money.’ He shot a look at the sandpit and forced himself to lower his voice. The last thing he wanted was Claudia repeating his words.

  ‘I messed up, okay? Can’t we build a bridge?’

  ‘A bridge? Fat chance.’

  ‘Found a worm, Daddy!’

  One look at Claudia’s oblivious smile was enough to deflate Rob’s rising anger. He unclenched his hands. ‘You’re not worth it, Max. You stick to your side of the fence and I’ll stick to mine. Right?’

  Max stepped back from the table. ‘Everyone makes mistakes. It was an addiction. I lost everything, too. Being a dairy farmer isn’t exactly my dream career, but there’re worse ways to make a living. And from what Mum says, you’re not interested.’

  Rob sucked in a sharp breath. Max is moving back permanently? ‘So, what, you’re taking on the farm?’ Bloody hell, this just gets better and better.

  ‘Not yet, but Mum’s days of milking are numbered. Haven’t you noticed her hobbling around in the mornings? And Dad’s no spring chicken either. I’ll milk for a bit, maybe I’ll be able to pay you back the rest of your money. Unless you’ve changed your mind about taking on the dairy?’

  ‘Keep it. Just stay away from me and my girls.’

  Rob thought back to their failed business venture. He’d given up on ever seeing the other half of that money years ago, but it still hurt.

  He shoved his chair in and walked away, thinking about the sudden influx of bills. A cash injection would be pretty handy right about now, but he wouldn’t hold his breath about getting the money back from Max. Not in this lifetime.

  A restlessness chased Angie around the shed as she tidied up the next morning. Rob’s recent tossing and turning had wreaked havoc on her sleep too. As much as she’d been annoyed to see him strap his helmet on and ride off, she hadn’t missed his grumpy mood this morning.

  She jumped as a knock rang out on the door.

  John stood in the doorway, wearing one of the pairs of faded overalls perpetually hanging on Rosa’s Hills hoist. He must have just finished the morning’s milking. It was not often that she saw Rob’s father outside the dairy in anything other than a neatly ironed shirt with his hair perfectly combed and parted. Now he looked softer, somehow.

  ‘Rob just rode past the dairy like a bat out of hell. Everything okay?’

  Angie nodded, surprised when John lingered. She couldn’t remember ever talking to John alone before. Usually Rosa was there, filling in gaps in the conversation, or just speaking for them.

  John nodded. ‘Long as you’re all okay. By the way, I’ve got those cows in ready for the AI guy tomorrow. They’re in prime condition for insemination. Chap’ll be here about midday, if you want to swing past and watch your new calves being made.’

  Angie had forgotten all about the present John and Rosa had given them for Christmas. Letting them use their best breeding cows to build their own herd with a handful of Friesian–Speckle Park crossbreds was generous, and she’d planned to watch the artificial insemination take place, but was she ready to face Rosa yet?

  The whole biting incident still made her blood boil, several days later. I’d never bite my child. Mum would never have done something so drastic.

  A sleepy Claudia wandered down the caravan steps shortly after John left. Angie was midway through pouring milk into their bowls of Weet-Bix when there was another rap on the door and she jumped, slopping milk across the bench.

  ‘Cooeee. Angie?’

  Angie mopped up the mess as Rosa strode into the shed. First one, then the other.

  Claudia climbed down from her stool, ran to the door and flung herself into Rosa’s arms. Well, she’s obviously put the biting incident behind her.

  Rosa’s face was creased with worry as she walked towards them. ‘I’ve brought Violet back. She’s been sniffing around the dairy again.’

  ‘Again? I only let her off about ten minutes ago. I hope you gave her a good slap on the bum?’

  ‘No, in fact, she was quite helpful in demolishing the last of the dinner scraps. But you might want to keep her chained up more often, till she knows not to stray. Walking her regularly might tucker her out too,’ she said, fixing Angie with a helpful smile.

  Angie forced herself to take a deep breath. If Rosa fed the pup each time she jumped the fence, Violet would only be there more often.

  ‘We take her out for a walk most evenings. Rob’s supposed to be training her, not me, but right now he’s so furious about Max turning up unannounced that he’s barely even sleeping.’

  ‘Oh, Angie’—Rosa toyed with her necklace—‘I’ve felt so wretched these last few days, you’ve got to believe me. But I couldn’t tell you about Max coming home, in case you told Rob. I know my boys. Rob would have bundled you all into the car and spent Christmas
somewhere else if he’d known Max would be there, and I couldn’t bear upsetting your first Christmas here. I wanted it to be special,’ said Rosa.

  ‘Special? Rosa, it was a disaster! Christmas lunch and the proposal were great, even when the calf did a runner, and I loved the pudding, but it all turned to custard when Max walked in. You might have given Rob a little warning.’ Angie took in Rosa’s pained expression. The bags under her eyes suggested Rosa hadn’t been sleeping well either. ‘Look, why don’t you sit down for a moment. I’ll make us some tea,’ she said.

  Rosa pressed her palms into the kitchen benchtop as if for support as Angie boiled the kettle. ‘I feel terrible about Christmas night, Angie. And about the biting, really, I do,’ she said. She gratefully accepted a cup of tea, and sat down on the stool with a thump, as if the energy had drained right out of her. She looked out the window and folded her arms across her chest. When Rosa finally spoke, it was in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

  ‘Rob’s always been my easy son. The one who got the best marks, who seemed to know when I needed a hug. Max was a great kid too, don’t get me wrong, but when he and Rob had their falling out, things went downhill quicker than milk prices. Max wasn’t good with money and before we knew it, their savings for their joint business venture had vanished.’

  ‘They were in business together? And they went bust because of Max?’ Angie massaged her temples, trying to absorb the information.

  ‘They were planning a business together. It never got off the ground because …’ Rosa sighed. ‘Max took a gamble with their start-up money. First we knew about it was a debt collector knocking on the door. I wanted to try to fix it, but John refused to bail him out. Rob was devastated. He went his way—over to the mines—and we were so hopeful he’d come back home for good when he met you. And now he has. And Max left the country as soon as he’d cleared his gambling debts and repaid some of Rob’s share. He’s been wandering the planet trying to find happiness again, not that it’s worked.’

  Rosa gripped Angie’s upper arm. Her gaze was pleading. ‘Please, don’t let my family fall apart again, Angie. They need to get over this hurdle, all three of them. My body’s aching every night from the milking, and I’d love Max to take on the farm so we can think about retiring. Us women are good at smoothing things over. Life would be so much easier if they all got along, wouldn’t it? Help me, please, Angie.’

  Angie was freaked out by the intensity in Rosa’s eyes. She had trouble imagining John handing over the reins of his beloved dairy, or how painful it must have been for Rob and Max to lose all their money, but judging from the fingers still gripping her arm, Rosa remembered it all too well. Why the hell hasn’t Rob mentioned any of this before?

  Twenty-three

  The Dixie Chicks provided a soundtrack to Angie’s painting that afternoon, but she couldn’t stop herself from scanning the lane and resenting Rob’s absence. She was desperate to talk to him, to quiz him about what Rosa had shared, but his phone continued to ring out. Probably buried at the bottom of his motorbike saddlebags, she thought.

  She climbed down the stepladder and shuffled it a few metres across. Violet rushed over to greet her, and Angie patted her silky head.

  ‘All good, Claud?’

  Claudia waved from the paddling pool on the verandah, then went back to pouring water into her colourful collection of plastic containers.

  Angie surveyed the yard for snakes once more before loading up her paintbrush and resuming painting. The top half of the weatherboards would just have to wait until Rob showed up.

  Her singing was interrupted by a familiar voice and she turned to see Max striding across the lawn with an armful of Tupperware. He held up a hand, tattoos dancing across his bicep. Rob didn’t have a drop of ink on his whole body, but from what Bobbi had said about Max’s visits to the town gym, there were tatts all over Max’s chest and back.

  Claudia dashed up to him and wrapped her dripping arms around his leg. ‘Uncle Max, can we go feed the calves?’

  ‘Sorry, Claud, they’re all done this morning. Soon though.’ Max turned to Angie. ‘Mum asked me to bring these around. Rob told her you’re heading to a New Year’s barbecue tomorrow and she thought they’d come in handy.’

  Angie blew a curl from her eyes, trying hard to be grateful for Rosa’s thoughtful gesture. ‘We’re all good, thanks anyway. I’ve already made a few things,’ she lied. Rosa’s baking gifts were undoubtedly well-intentioned, and her visit that morning had gone a long way to explaining Rob’s attitude towards Max, but Angie still didn’t feel right about the biting thing. And accepting all these baked goods would just pave the way for more.

  Max shrugged, peeled the lid back and surveyed the items she was passing up. He slipped a quiche into his mouth and looked up at her. ‘Waste not, want not. Rob around?’

  ‘He’s gone for a ride. It’s not like we’ve got a house to paint or floorboards to lay or anything.’

  A craving for the baked treats rolled through her. ‘Claudia loves the water toys and the tool belt you gave her for Christmas.’ Their gaze shifted to the paddling pool.

  Max shrugged. ‘It’s nothing. We used to have a similar set when we were little. Kept us out of Dad’s hair while he fixed the tractors.’

  Angie climbed down from the ladder, remembering Rosa’s plea for help. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea? A beer? There’s only water in the esky but plenty of beer in the shed.’ Angie trailed off, aware she was babbling, as she struggled to work out the etiquette for how to act around an estranged brother-in-law-to-be. How much money did they lose? Is there anything else I’m missing from the Rob–Max equation?

  Max shrugged, polishing off a second biscuit and another quiche before setting the Tupperware down.

  Angie gestured to the cottage. ‘I’m due for a break anyway. Want a tour?’

  When he shrugged again and then nodded, Angie walked Max through the back door of the cottage and into the open living area.

  ‘We’ve taken the kitchen out a few metres to the north-east, should get all the morning—’

  ‘Sun,’ they finished in unison.

  Max looked at his boots but not before she saw a hint of a grin. ‘Sorry. Less than a week around Mum and I’m already finishing other people’s sentences.’ He was quiet for the rest of the tour, running a hand along the dusty surfaces and opening a cupboard here and there. She wondered if he was remembering the house from his childhood visits.

  The sunlight made them both blink when they returned outside. Max pointed to the bare weatherboards underneath the roofline.

  ‘Want a hand with that?’

  Before Angie could protest, Max had dipped her paintbrush in the tin and leaned the extension ladder against the wall. His light, even strokes had the highest weatherboard covered before she’d even found a second brush.

  Do I stop him? Or invite him back tomorrow? If it had been Diana, Penny or Lara, it would be natural for them to lend a hand. Max’s help made her miss her sisters even more. It was beginning to feel like they lived at opposite ends of the continent, instead of only 200 kilometres apart. Unsure, Angie settled on grabbing a second brush and working on the lower weatherboards.

  An hour later, the wall was finished.

  ‘Thanks, Max.’

  ‘Too easy. I’ll catch you around. Rob probably won’t be happy to see me picking up the slack.’

  Angie stared at his broad shoulders, so similar to Rob’s, as he walked away, wishing Rob’s point of view made more sense. Max’s not so bad, she thought, rinsing out the brushes. She spotted the plastic containers Max had left in the shade and looked around before she peeled back the lid. Just one piece of slice, she told herself, before I finish cleaning up.

  Rob parked his motorbike outside the hardware shop and pulled his phone from his leather jacket. Four missed calls from Angie while he’d been out riding with Brett.

  I’ll see her in five minutes anyway, he thought, quickly opening up the bank account app. It stil
l wasn’t looking great, but the payment for one of the smaller building jobs had cleared, so they’d be right for a little longer.

  He swung around at a tap on his shoulder, coming face to face with Wally.

  ‘I’ve called your name twice, Rob, but you’re glued to your phone like a teenager. You buying something or do you plan on standing in my doorway all arvo letting the flies in?’

  Rob gave the shopkeeper a sheepish smile as he shoved the phone back into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled shopping list, trying to remember the reason he’d detoured into town after his ride.

  ‘Don’t mind me, Wally. I’ve …’ Got a lot on my mind. Rob trailed off. The last thing he wanted was everyone in town knowing his business. ‘I’ll grab a few supplies and let you lock up.’ Rob juggled the bike helmet as he worked down his shopping list. Lastly, he plucked a posy of native flowers from the bucket by the front counter and placed it next to the boxes of screws and a tube of chem-set glue.

  Wally slapped a hand on the counter. ‘What, you’re planning on shoving a bunch of proteas and grevilleas down your jacket for the ride home?’

  ‘It’s only a few minutes to the cottage. Reckon it’ll be worth it for the smile on Ange’s face.’

  Wally wrapped the bunch in yesterday’s newspaper and clicked his tongue. ‘Ah, the joys of young love. Knew you were a good bloke, Jonesy.’

  Wally’s comment niggled as he rode home. A good bloke would swallow his pride and ask Ange for help, instead of trying to juggle the sums. A good bloke would be working on the house instead of blowing off steam on a bike ride. A good bloke wouldn’t keep secrets … The bunch of flowers prickled his chest through the light cotton work shirt, feeling remarkably similar to guilt.

  Angie looked every inch the painter when he rolled down the driveway. She was gently hammering the lid back on the paint tin, and her wide-brimmed hat was speckled with paint, as were her shorts and singlet.