The Shearer's Wife Read online

  Will would have said something like: ‘Making the place look untidy, Zara …’

  At the thought of Will, her heart felt like it might squeeze out of her chest, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Looking at the cup she was holding, she realised her hands were shaking. Putting her hand on her chest, she tried to calm her pounding heart. Why did she react this way every time she thought about him?

  Oh, she missed him, his witty comments, his advice and friendship. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to think about something else.

  Her mum had called last night, inviting her and Jack to Rowberry Glen for dinner. Zara had made an excuse. She just couldn’t bear to be on the farm since Will had died. The place held too many memories of him and their dad. It just wasn’t the same without them there. Even driving to the farm was painful.

  Taking another deep breath and closing her eyes, Zara made sure the images of finding her father in the upside-down ute, on the road to Rowberry Glen, didn’t enter her mind’s eye.

  Stop it, stop it, stop it. Happy things only, think about Jack. Think about why the AFP would be in Barker.

  She opened her eyes again and looked around. The main street remained empty, save for the trees being buffeted in the wind and old Mr Winter’s dog, who usually took himself for a walk just as the meat was being delivered to the butcher’s shop.

  Draining the last of her coffee, she eyed the police station, but it showed no signs of life.

  ‘Stuff it,’ she said and walked back over the road and let herself into the station, sitting in one of the plastic chairs in reception.

  ‘Zara …’ Joan said.

  ‘It’s okay, Joan, I’m not going to cause any trouble. Just sit here for a bit. It’s cold out.’

  Joan pursed her lips and continued typing.

  Zara got out her notebook and jotted down what Hopper had told her. As she looked at her words, her mind ticked over.

  The post office. Could they have been waiting for a delivery?

  That bloke she’d seen here in the cop shop had had an authoritative air about him, which fitted with what she knew of the Feds.

  Well, well, that would make life interesting, she thought.

  She looked up as the front door opened and Dave walked in.

  He took one look at her and kept moving, all the while holding up his hand. ‘Not now, Zara.’

  She shot out of her seat and followed him. ‘Don’t tell me “not now”. This is my job. The AFP is in town and you’re not giving me anything. You’re avoiding me.’

  ‘I’m not avoiding you. I don’t have anything I can tell you at the moment.’

  ‘Why are they here?’

  ‘Zara.’ Dave stopped and eyeballed her, but Zara didn’t back down. She took another step towards him.

  ‘Have they arrested anyone?’

  ‘No comment. Get out of the station, Zara. I’ll talk to you when I have something to tell you. You know I will.’

  ‘Dave.’

  ‘No!’ His voice rose angrily. ‘Enough. There’s nothing for you here. Go before I have someone throw you out, or I do it myself.’

  ‘Like who? Jack? That’s a bit rich.’

  Dave glared at her and opened his mouth, but Zara continued, ‘Back to this are we, Dave? The “no comment” bullshit? I thought we’d sorted all this out. Haven’t I proved myself to you yet?’

  As he leaned towards her, Zara noticed Dave’s blue eyes were cold. ‘You’re treading on thin ice. I’m telling you to leave. I have nothing to say.’

  Zara blinked a couple of times. This wasn’t like Dave. Seconds later, the door to the back of the station slammed shut and Dave was gone.

  Joan didn’t stop typing but glanced up with an I told you so look on her face.

  Gathering her bag, Zara stomped out of the station and headed towards the post office, texting Lachie as she went.

  Not sure what it is, but something big. AFP here. Dave acting like an arse.

  Keep at it, Lachie texted back.

  A block down, she spotted Kim putting grocery bags in her car and hurried towards her.

  ‘Hi, Kim!’ Zara said, reaching down into the shopping trolley to hand Kim a bag.

  ‘Zara! I haven’t seen you in ages, even though you live over the road. What are you up to? Thanks for this.’ She took the bag Zara handed her.

  ‘Good. Busy!’ She paused. ‘You got some kids coming to visit?’ She indicated the colourful yoghurt tubs stamped with cartoon characters and cheese slices with smiley faces on the packaging.

  ‘Yeah, Paris Carter is going to stay with us for a little while. I haven’t had any kids with me for years, so it will be nice to have a chatty little voice around the house again.’ ‘Oh, is that the little girl who lives with her grandmother? What’s her name? Bessie?’

  ‘Essie,’ Kim corrected. ‘Lovely lady—she arranged the flowers for our wedding. Got a heart of gold.’

  ‘Oh, nice. Where’s she gone?’

  ‘Adelaide, or so I understand. Family trip.’ Kim gave a quick a smile, before shutting the car boot. ‘I’m really sorry, Zara, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to pick up Paris from school. Why don’t you come over later and have a glass of wine and a proper catch-up?’

  ‘Sounds great. I’ll do that.’

  Don’t think Dave is going to like that idea, Zara thought as she watched Kim wave and back out her car. She sighed in frustration. That was the trouble when you lived in a small country town and were friends with the local constabulary. She couldn’t ask questions of friends without putting them in a compromising position.

  Kim had been so kind when Zara first moved back to Barker and then when Will died. She’d also been a great support to Zara’s mum during that time. But she was married to Dave, which complicated, well, everything.

  Yeah, being friends with the local coppers could really hamper a girl’s ability to get information, she thought.

  In the post office, Zara looked around for Jenny, the longstanding postmistress, but instead a young woman she hadn’t seen before was serving behind the counter.

  ‘Hi, Sarah,’ Zara said, glancing at the girl’s name tag. ‘Is Jenny around?’

  ‘No, sorry, she’s gone for the day. I can give her a message if you like?’ Sarah smiled and looked enthusiastic at the prospect.

  Zara shook her head. ‘No, that’s fine, I’ll come back tomorrow. You’re new here?’

  ‘Yeah, I just started. My husband got a job at the silos, so we shifted up a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘That’s great! We can always do with some new blood in town. I’m Zara. Do you like working here? Do you serve behind the counter, or help sort the mail or what?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yeah, all of that. I take passport photos too. I’ve worked in three different post offices and know how they work. Jenny needed a hand this morning, sorting, but that’s easy enough. It’s funny looking at all the names and not knowing anyone.’

  ‘Anything strange come in this morning?’

  ‘Strange as in how?’

  Zara gave a casual shrug. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Did Jenny say anything about an odd package, or that someone had received some mail they wouldn’t usually?’

  A wary look came over Sarah’s face. ‘Why would you want to know that? There’re privacy issues with mail, you know.’

  Laughing, Zara said, ‘I don’t know! It was just a question. Look, I’ll leave you to it. Welcome to Barker. I hope you settle in quickly.’

  ‘Thanks.’ A smile broke across Sarah’s face. ‘I’m sure we will.’

  Flicking her a wave, Zara pulled open the door and walked outside. She was just in time to see three men drive past in a now familiar car. The man driving was the one she’d seen in the police station earlier.

  Essie Carter was in the back seat.

  Chapter 7

  1980

  Ian paced the floor of the shearing shed. He’d had a sleepless night even though he knew there was nothing he could do. Yesterday Ro
se had been taken to Barker, unconscious. Bleeding.

  He should be with her now, instead of Ali. Here he was, waiting for the gong to sound so he could drag a wether from the pen and start shearing it.

  Was she okay? Were the babies okay? There were no answers.

  All he could see in his mind was the last sight he’d had of Rose, as she’d been loaded into the back seat of his Kingswood.

  ‘I’ll take her,’ he’d said.

  ‘Okay,’ Ali had nodded. ‘You’d better get going. She needs help, fast.’

  Then Ian got queasy. ‘What if she … I …’

  ‘Ian, there isn’t any time to waste. You drive.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. You go. Just … just let me know. As soon as you can. I’d better not let the boss down by not being here.’

  He’d used shearing as an excuse. He hadn’t wanted to see Rose in pain, any more than he wanted to get into trouble for not taking her to the doctor often enough. He’d panicked when he’d seen her writhing on the floor, blood pooling around her. He was responsible for looking after his wife, and he hadn’t done a very good job.

  No, better he stayed in Jacksonville and shore the sheep. He knew naught about babies and how they came into the world. Best all of that was left to the experts.

  Just so long as Rosie was all right.

  Now, by the light of a fresh day, he looked over into the catching pens and saw how large the wethers were.

  This station was known for the good quality wool, but at a quick glance the microns on these boys were going to be a bit higher than usual. Might have something to do with the season. He could imagine the strain of dragging them to his stand already.

  ‘Going to be a big day,’ Kiz said as he dropped his kit on the floor and bent down to get out his handpiece, combs and cutters. ‘You doing okay? Any news?’

  ‘A good day for making money,’ Ian said with a bravado he didn’t feel, ignoring the question. He noticed Kiz watching him. ‘Don’t want to talk about it. Not until I know something.’

  The clicking of the wethers’ hooves on the grating was loud and occasionally there was a baa, but other than that, the shed was quiet.

  ‘Right. I’ll be back in a bit,’ Kiz said, leaving Ian by himself. A shaft of sunlight landed on the board. The dust particles danced in the light and the flies buzzed against the tin roof.

  Ian walked around the edge of the shed, noting the lanolin-oiled wooden boards and spiderwebs creeping across the windows. Shearing sheds calmed him. Not that he ever told anyone when he was wound up, or worried. But he was now. Being here in the silence of the world he knew well helped settle his nerves.

  He loved shearing, he loved the nomadic lifestyle, the travelling. Hanging out with his mates. He didn’t want to give up any of it. But he also loved Rosie. His sweet Rosie.

  Maybe his resistance to change had put Rose’s life in danger.

  If he had, he was no better than his father. His family at home were ‘good Catholics’. His older brother Coilin had told him their mother had always been pregnant. Until the last time, when Ian was born.

  She’d died in childbirth after thirteen children. Coilin had always blamed their father.

  ‘Couldn’t keep it in your pants,’ he’d said to his father after a night on the whiskey. ‘She’d still be here if it weren’t for you.’ Ian remembered the words, even though he’d only been five.

  Perhaps his own need to keep his life unchanged was a similar sin.

  There was a fleece on the wool table, and he reached out to feel it, looking at the crimp the way he’d been taught.

  Medium, he thought. Maybe 20 or 22 micron.

  He could smell sheep, lanolin and diesel. The smells of the shearing industry.

  The floor creaked and Ian looked behind him, seeing the bloke he’d shorn with two sheds ago, with his shearing kit.

  ‘Dougie,’ Ian greeted him softly.

  ‘You’ve had an exciting time of it, lad,’ Dougie said with a bit of a grin. ‘All right?’

  ‘Be fine. Just a bit of scare, that’s all.’

  In silence, Dougie brought out his handpiece and checked it over, before getting out the screwdriver and loosening the two large screws; into the gap he put first the comb, then the cutter. Ian watched as Dougie’s large hands twisted the screws back into place, before he connected it to the down-tube. Placing the handpiece on the floor, he stood up and finally eyeballed Ian.

  ‘Paddy, I hope you’ll forgive an old man his words of wisdom, but I can see you’re a mess. You like the booze, the travelling, being with the blokes. But you’ve got a pretty little wife, who’s in a spot of trouble right now. She shouldn’t have been out here, hey? Rose should’ve been tucked up in some house somewhere, with a nice garden. You’re pissing everything up against the wall. Those babies are on their way and there’s nothing you can do about it, except be the best dad you can. Only way to do that is pull your head in and look after their mum.’

  Ian frowned and moved away. ‘I don’t need a lecture …’ He broke off as Dougie stepped close and pointed a finger into his chest.

  ‘You do. I tried to tell you last shed, but you didn’t listen. The best way to raise them babies is to love their mother. Dragging her around everywhere like you are isn’t doing that.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Paddy?’ Muzza called through the door. ‘Boss is lookin’ for ya.’

  Dougie raised his eyebrows. ‘Think this is your crossroads, lad.’

  Leaving the shearing shed, Ian had no choice but to head up the road that led to the main house five-hundred metres away. The walk gave him a little time to get his thoughts in order. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Dougie, but he knew the old man was right. Even so, the rebel in him wanted to shout at everyone who was interfering. Tell them that none of this was their business. To stay away. He knew how to look after his own wife.

  But clearly, he didn’t. Today proved that. He’d always planned to be back in Adelaide before the babies came and now maybe he was too late.

  He kicked a stone as he walked, trying to get rid of the pain in his stomach. Were they all okay? Glancing at his watch he realised it was nearly twelve hours since they’d left. There must be news, that was why he was being called down to the main house.

  He followed the path to the office and knocked on the door.

  ‘Come.’

  ‘You wanted to see me, boss?’ he asked as he stepped in.

  ‘Ah, yes, Ian. Congratulations! You have a boy and girl. Both are doing okay, but they’ll have to stay in hospital for a while. Sounds like despite the scare this morning, everything went well.’

  Ian couldn’t speak, his heart was beating so hard. A boy. A boy! To pass his name on to. And a girl. He stared at Ross dumbly.

  ‘Rose?’ The only word he could get out.

  ‘Well, Rose isn’t out of the woods yet; she’s had a hard time of it, by all accounts. Seems she lost a lot of blood and had to have a transfusion, but Ali seems to think she’ll be as good as new in time.’

  ‘In time?’

  ‘That’s all I’ve been told. Do you want to go and see her?’

  Of course he did. Those words didn’t come out, though. ‘But my stand …’

  ‘I understand you need this shed. And I’m not an unreasonable man, Ian. I can hold your stand for you—it’ll slow us down for the day or two that’ll you’d be gone, but these circumstances aren’t normal. Once you’ve seen your family, come back, finish the shed, then you can do whatever you need to. Find a house, settle them in. Work out what you’re going to do from there. I can’t see this dragging on for too long. Maybe three weeks’ worth of work.’

  The thought of seeing two new babies without Rose being totally well scared him. Even though he was from a big family, he was the youngest. He hadn’t carted toddlers around on his hip the way his older brothers and sisters had. He didn’t know how to change a nappy. What if they cried? What about names?

  ‘Have they been named?’
he asked.

  Ross crinkled his forehead. ‘You didn’t talk about that beforehand?’

  Ian shook his head.

  ‘I haven’t heard of any names. Rose might not be well enough to have done that yet. Blood transfusion and all. I imagine a medical issue like that would take the stuffing out of you for a while.’

  Ian shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ‘Are they … are they looked after?’ he asked.

  ‘I would think so, lad. They’re in the hospital.’ Ross gave him an inquisitive look.

  ‘If they’re cared for, boss, then I’ll stay. I can see them when we’ve finished here.’ Ian nodded, showing he meant what he’d just said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I think that’d be best. Thanks for the offer, though.’

  Ross turned back to the books on his desk. ‘Don’t mention it, man.’

  Clearly he was being dismissed, so Ian opened the door, but stopped when Ross spoke again in a low voice.

  ‘It’s better that the birth happened this way, Ian. I know you wanted Rose with you, but it’s much better than a dead wife and two babies to raise on your own. Or even worse, all three of them dead.’ His voice broke as he said the last word.

  Ian stared at the man, who was bent over his account books, not looking at him and he wondered what had happened to Ross to make him react like that.

  Quietly shutting the door behind him, he made his way back to the quarters and went straight to his car. He opened the boot and then, after looking around to make sure no one was watching, he took a roll of notes out from the spare wheel well and quickly counted them.

  The mixture of crinkled and dirty notes amounted to four hundred dollars. The sum of his savings. People might say that he hadn’t given any thought to the impending birth, but he’d thought enough to start saving money for when they were in Adelaide. Rose would need it while she was in hospital.

  He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions and blinked a few times. Not having Rose here will be a good thing, he tried to tell himself. Few drinks with the boys every night and there won’t be any cold shoulder. No one telling me what to do. Yeah, focus on the good things. Be a free man again. Just so long as they’re looked after.