Where the River Runs Page 18

  ‘Then I was lucky enough to get a tour in Europe. A soloist tour, but I still needed backing music so I had a small orchestra with me, and the best conductor in the world!’

  The sign on the side of the road said there were fifty kilometres to Barker and she wondered how her dad was coping on the back of the ute. With the heat from the day still strong, even though the sun had long gone, he wouldn’t be cold.

  She went on to tell Cal how she’d fallen out with the conductor. How the music industry was small and now no one would work with her. ‘I was horrible back then,’ she finished. ‘And I found out that touring wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. Every day a new city, a new hotel, a new concert hall. It was exhausting.

  ‘So, once the tour fell apart, I still had to make a living. I was never going to tell Mum and Dad what had happened. Well, if I could avoid it. After all the effort they put into my schooling. But I didn’t know what to do because playing the piano was the only thing I knew.

  ‘My friend, Tori, suggested I apply for a job as a soloist on a cruise ship. It wouldn’t matter that much there. I was told hardly anyone listened to what was being played anyway; most people went to the bars to drink and talk, not listen to music.’ Again, her right thumb was running over her left hand. ‘So that’s what I did.’

  ‘Did you tell anyone?’

  ‘No. Not a soul. Oh, Tori knew, but no one else. And it wasn’t like I was in constant contact with Mum and Dad anyway. Six months could go by before we got in touch.’ She shrugged. ‘I thought I could hide what was going on from them. I didn’t take my mobile on any of the ships with me, and they had no idea where I was or how to contact me.’

  ‘But why did you want to hide it from them? I don’t understand that.’

  ‘God, Cal, don’t you see? It’s embarrassing. Degrading. I’m a … Well, I was a concert pianist. To be downgraded to playing on a cruise ship … They would have been horrified.’

  ‘I don’t think you gave them enough credit.’

  ‘Mum would’ve been livid. They had sacrificed so much for me to have a career at the highest level of music. So when I got on the ships, I didn’t take my phone. I deliberately wanted to cut off contact with the world.’

  ‘You didn’t get your dad’s message,’ Cal said.

  In the darkness she looked over at him and saw the understanding on his face. Chelsea shook her head. ‘No. Not until it was too late. When we docked back in Sydney and I was finally able to get messages, a month or so afterwards.’

  ‘But why didn’t you come straight here?’

  ‘I couldn’t! I tried to call and let Dad know what I was doing, but I had to get on a different ship. And I was scared. I didn’t want to come home. If I stayed away I could pretend she hadn’t gone. I did that for five years. After Aria was born I took her with me—in special circumstances you’re able to take a child on board. And, as part of my contract, my friend Tori was allowed to come too and look after Aria.’ She smiled sadly. ‘See, I still had a bit of pull because my name is well known and my bio is reasonably impressive—if you discount the tour, that is. Anyway every time I came back, I rang, but he didn’t pick up the phone. Until we got back in November and I couldn’t face doing another cruise. That’s when I tried again. It was going to be the last time.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why you didn’t write or try to visit, but I guess all of that’s in the past now.’ He paused for a moment as if turning over all the information in his mind, then asked, ‘Why can’t you do another cruise?’

  ‘Aria will be starting preschool this coming year. She needs to live somewhere stable. I haven’t set down roots before and now I have to. The problem with that is, I don’t have any other qualifications, so I’ve got no idea how I’m going to support us.’

  Cal was quiet while Chelsea watched the red glow of the tail-lights in front of her as the white lines slipped by.

  ‘You know, Tom didn’t avoid answering the phone only with you,’ Cal said, rubbing his hand along his thighs as if trying to wipe sweat away. ‘He didn’t answer the phone to anyone. He didn’t go anywhere. If there was ever a man sleepwalking through life, it was Tom. For him, the world lost its meaning when Pip died.’

  Chelsea opened her mouth but found she couldn’t speak. She thought about her parents together. The way they’d clung to each other at Dale’s funeral, the way they’d laughed together in the sheep yards and how they’d always talked to each other.

  How could she have not seen it before? They were best friends. They didn’t need anyone. Everyone else was a bonus. They just needed each other.

  A sign told them it was another ten kilometres into Barker and Chelsea wanted to change the subject—there was too much emotion to face once they reached the hospital.

  ‘Tell me about you,’ she said. ‘How did you come to work for Dad? I know I’ve asked before but …’ Her voice trailed off, not sure what else to say.

  ‘I answered an ad in the paper. He and Pip were keen to get someone in to do a bit more of the physical work. Not that they couldn’t do it, but it was harder on them as they got older, and Pip was beginning to struggle with the heat. They just needed an extra pair of hands.

  ‘I turned up, they liked the way I rode a motorbike and so they gave me the job!’

  Chelsea could imagine her dad saying, ‘Get on the bike and bring that mob in from eight. Once you’ve done that I’ll tell you if you’ve got the job or not.’ He’d say things like that to Dale all the time.

  ‘And your family? You said this morning they were in Port Pirie?’

  ‘Yeah, Mum and Dad live there. Both retired school teachers. Two sisters and one brother, all working in Adelaide, and me. I’m the baby of the family.’

  ‘How did you get involved in farming if your family aren’t?’

  Cal didn’t answer straightaway but, when he did, Chelsea wasn’t sure what his answer meant.

  ‘Farming saved me.’

  Chapter 21

  Chelsea and the doctor stood in the hospital hallway, looking through the doorway at Tom.

  She’d been shocked at how small and fragile he looked with his head wrapped in a bandage. It had taken a moment or two for Chelsea to even see a resemblance between the man in the bed and her father.

  ‘The head injury has caused mild concussion. We’ve kept him awake for the amount of time needed, so it’s fine that he’s asleep now.

  ‘The ankle, well, that’s a nasty break and probably going to require surgery. Couple of pins to hold everything together, but we’re going to have to wait until the swelling goes down so we can see exactly what we need to do.’

  ‘Can you do the op here?’ she asked.

  ‘No, that’ll be an Adelaide job. Has he got private health insurance?’

  ‘I’ll find out, but I’d imagine so. He always used to.’

  ‘Do that and I can work out a plan from there. Look, the rest of it is reasonably superficial. His wrist has taken a bit of a battering where he’s put his hand out to break his fall. Normally I would’ve expected a break there, but it seems as if it’s mostly muscular. It’ll take a bit of time, but he’ll be back on his feet eventually.’

  Chelsea nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. ‘Doctor, there’s something else I’d like to talk to you about.’

  When he didn’t say anything, she continued with a rush. ‘I’ve been away for a few years and haven’t seen my dad in that time. Since I’ve been back, I’ve noticed some strange things. Sometimes he seems to forget where he is or what words to use. I made mashed potatoes, knowing that’s one of his favourite veggies, and he told me he didn’t like them. My daughter told me that they got lost one time when they were out in the paddock. My father knows Shandona like the back of his hand. I can’t believe he could’ve got lost out there.’

  ‘Is there a family history of mental health problems or dementia?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  The doctor pressed her for more details an
d Chelsea answered as best she could but, as she did so, she realised there was much more about her father that she didn’t know.

  No, she wasn’t sure whether he was on any medications. No, as far as she was aware he hadn’t had any bumps or falls lately. No, she wasn’t sure if he was depressed.

  ‘What about stress? Has he been under pressure lately?’

  ‘My mother died nearly three years ago. I know that’s caused him a huge amount of grief. I don’t know if you categorise that as stress though.’

  ‘The death of a spouse is classed as stress,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘Come and sit down and tell me about your father.’ He indicated for her to follow him down the corridor and within minutes they were settled in his office.

  The doctor tapped on his computer and quickly read through her father’s medical records. ‘From what I can see here, he hasn’t been admitted into hospital before. I don’t have access to his day-to-day medical records because I only come in to look after the emergency department on public holidays. The resident doctor will have more info if Tom’s been to see him recently.’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you,’ Chelsea said. ‘Like I said, I’ve been away for a while.’

  ‘Let’s go back to your mother’s death. Was it sudden?’

  ‘Yes, very much so. She died in their bed and Dad didn’t realise until after he’d been in bed with her for a little while.’

  The doctor blew out a breath. ‘Not nice.’

  Chelsea shook her head.

  ‘Any other deaths?’

  ‘My brother died back in 2006. I don’t think either of my parents ever got over his death. It was like they couldn’t carry on. Everything was too much of an effort and no one else mattered except Dale.’

  ‘That’s not abnormal after the death of a child.’ He leaned forwards and put his elbows on the desk. ‘Grief is a strange beast. It manifests itself in so many different ways. And I’m sure you know that people often take their emotions out on the people they love.’

  Chelsea thought he may have been talking from experience.

  ‘So, do you think that could be the cause of his memory lapses? Because most of the time he seems sad but fine.’

  ‘Sure could.’ The doctor paused. ‘Look, I think we certainly need to do some investigation into this. There are a few possibilities. It could be stress or medication related, or it could be the start of early onset dementia. He is young for a disease like that, but in my experience it can happen to anyone at any time. When we get him to Adelaide I’ll order some tests, okay? But I’ll have to talk to him about what we’re going to do.’

  Chelsea nodded. ‘Okay.’ She swallowed and looked down at the floor, trying to process everything.

  ‘I’ve given him some drugs for the pain, so he’s going to be out of it for a while. Why don’t you head home and get some rest? We’ll call you when he wakes up and you can come back in then. Is there someone you want us to phone to come and collect you or have you got a mobile?’

  Thinking about Cal, she shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay. My friend caught a lift home and left me his ute.’

  ‘Right. I guess I’ll see you later then.’ He gave her a smile and Chelsea realised he was about her age.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.’

  ‘Ryan. Ryan Miller.’

  ‘Thank you, Ryan.’

  By the time she’d left the hospital it had been too late to collect Aria from Hec and Colleen’s place. It was three in the morning when she’d finally walked back into the empty house.

  She had been beyond tired but sleep kept eluding her, so she’d poured herself a glass of wine and laid down on the bed and closed her eyes. The next time she’d opened them, the sun had been high in the sky.

  Seeing it was close to eleven am, she rang Hec and Colleen and told them she was heading back into the hospital as soon as she could. When Colleen said the hospital wasn’t an ideal place for a little girl and offered to look after Aria for longer, Chelsea was grateful. It would give her the opportunity to get things sorted with her dad and Dr Miller.

  Colleen put Hec on the phone. ‘Thank you so much,’ Chelsea said. ‘We wouldn’t have found him as quickly without your help.’

  Hec played down her gratitude. ‘He would’ve done it for us and it’s the way we work out here. We don’t let our friends and neighbours down.’

  Chelsea felt like the words were aimed at her but decided to let them slide. She didn’t need to answer to the whole town. The important people knew why she hadn’t been here and that was all that mattered.

  After Hec, Aria spoke to her.

  ‘Mummy, I love Sooty. Can he come home with us?’

  ‘Who’s Sooty?’

  ‘Colleen’s kitten. He slept on my bed last night so I didn’t get scared.’

  ‘I don’t think Colleen would like us to take her kitten, honey. But maybe we can get one later.’

  ‘Mummy?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘When are you coming to pick me up?’

  ‘Probably after I get back from seeing Papa tomorrow. A hospital is such a boring place and I think you’ll have much more fun with Colleen.’

  ‘We’re going to make biscuits soon. Ones with chocolate in them.’ Aria sounded excited as she said ‘chocolate’.

  ‘Yum! My fav. Will you save me some?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. Okay, I’m going to go and see Papa now. I love you.’

  ‘Love you, Mummy.’

  Chelsea hung up the phone, gathered her purse and phone and drove to Barker.

  She spent a few hours at the hospital but Tom was still so drugged up, he slept the whole time. This time it was a nurse who suggested she go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a different day, she told her.

  When Chelsea got back to the house she called Lily. ‘Dad had an accident,’ she started without preamble.

  ‘I heard,’ Lily answered. ‘I tried to call but there was no answer. Is he okay?’

  ‘Yeah, he will be.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m really tired—I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night—but other than that, I’m fine,’ Chelsea answered, ignoring the anxiety churning in her stomach.

  ‘You know I’m here if you need anything.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked out the window and saw a mob of sheep on the move. Behind them was a motorbike and Cal in his familiar blue shirt. She needed to go and talk to him too.

  ‘Lily,’ Chelsea started. ‘Lily, I need to tell you why I didn’t get your wedding invitation, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Do you want to come out here for dinner tomorrow? Would your husband look after the kids?’ ‘I can come out. That’d be nice. But instead of you cooking, why don’t I bring a barbecue chicken and some salad. Quick and easy and more time for catching up.’

  ‘That would be really great,’ Chelsea answered.

  Hanging up the phone, she went out to see where Cal was. The dust from the sheep hung in the air; without a breath of breeze it would continue to hang like a shroud until it finally fell back to the ground. The sun was beginning its downward slide behind the hills and Chelsea realised he was shifting the mob now because it was cooler.

  She pulled on her sandshoes and went outside, wondering if she could walk quickly enough to catch him.

  As she walked, the flies buzzed around her face and crawled into her eyes, looking for moisture. She brushed them away and continued on, listening to the call of the birds as they settled in the trees for the night. It made her remember things she’d long forgotten.

  Her father had taught her and Dale to drive along this road in the old Corolla he’d kept in the shed for the short runs to the mailbox, or to check a tank.

  ‘Push your left foot in and put it into first,’ Tom had instructed, his hand on hers to guide her through the gear changes. ‘Now, when you let your foot off the clutch, you have to do it gently. Pretend there’s a glass of water on your knee and you’
re not allowed to spill it. Once you feel the car begin to move, then you can push the accelerator down and you’ll start to go forwards.’

  Chelsea smiled to herself as she remembered the bunny hops and her father’s annoyance every time she stalled the car. Which was often. Dale used to laugh at her and Pip had shushed him every time. ‘You weren’t perfect when you started,’ she’d remind him.

  Once she’d learned to drive, Tom had entrusted her to get sheep in or check bores, but she hadn’t been very keen on that; that’d been Dale’s forte. What she had loved was shearing time. Every shearing, she’d head up to the shed and sit in the corner, watching the shearers. She loved the feel of the wool on her skin and the banter in the shed. Most of the shearers were men she knew; cocky shearers they were called, other farmers who made a bit of extra money by shearing when they weren’t busy on their own farms. They were always nice to her, and one of them, Daniel Mundy, had even let her hold a handpiece. He’d shown her how to hold the ewe in between her legs and slide the comb down her side. She’d ended up with a lot of prickles in her fingers—so many that the tips of her fingers had hurt and she hadn’t been able to play the piano for a couple of days.

  And while shearing was on, Pinto was put to good use too. Tom would set the shorn ewes out into the laneway, and Chelsea and Pinto would walk behind them until they were back in the paddock. When the sheep were safely behind the gates, Pinto would turn his head eagerly for home. He always went home more quickly.

  How cool would it be to teach Aria to ride and drive, she thought. I wonder if I could find a sedate pony I could teach her on. Pinto would have been perfect, but he had died during her second year at the Conservatorium.

  What about you? a little voice said. Would you like to ride again?

  Chelsea stopped and looked around. The hills dwarfed her and suddenly, under a vast purple sunset sky, she felt small and insignificant. The pull that had drawn her home was stronger than ever, and she was standing right on the ground she was raised on. This was home, she realised. No matter where she’d travelled and what she’d seen, this was home. Shandona was where she belonged. There was nowhere else.