Blackpeak Station (9 page)

Chapter
NINE

October had been kind. The sun shone and the rain fell in idyllic proportions, the grass grew long and green on the river flats, and with so much feed to go around so few, the remaining stock began to prosper. What lambs the station did have, almost all singles and born underweight after the snow, were now making up for lost time. You could almost see them getting fatter, Charlotte thought, as she watched a group of them play king-of-the-castle in the sun. The front due to blow through tomorrow wouldn’t bother them at all.

This time next year, these lambs would be trucked off for a good price, and Blackpeak would have its first generation of ultra-fine stock on this same ground. Turning her mind to the bloodlines she was hoping to buy, Charlotte drove back
to the homestead for lunch in high spirits. Tinks, riding the flatdeck, stuck her face through the side window, panting in Charlotte’s ear.

‘There you are!’ In the kitchen, Kath was almost bursting with news. ‘You’ll never guess what — I think Zoe might’ve left. For good, I mean. I passed Jen’s ute heading out a couple of hours ago.’ She paused briefly for breath. ‘Zoe was in the passenger seat and the back was full of boxes.’

Wow — this really was a good day, Charlotte thought, before she could stop herself. She bit her lip. How could she be such a bitch? This was Jen’s life they were talking about.

‘She hadn’t said a word to me about going anywhere,’ Kath continued. ‘Did Jen tell you they were heading into town?’

Charlotte shook her head, feeling deeply ashamed of herself. Poor Jen. She knew she and Zoe hadn’t been getting along that well back before the snow, but since then she’d hardly spoken a word to Jen except about sheep and money.

After lunch, Charlotte checked her email again — there was still no word from Nick. She clicked on the MetService site. It was bristling with river warnings. The front was forecast to hit tomorrow afternoon, bringing heavy rain to the high country headwaters. She sighed. She was reluctant to take the ewes off the best grass, but they’d better come up in the morning.

The afternoon passed with no sign of Jen. At dinner, Rex reported that her ute was back, but there was no reply when Charlotte rang the cottage. She gave it another hour, and then decided to drive down. A long silence followed her knock on the door.

‘Jen? I know you’re in there.’

‘Oh, all right,’ Jen called at last. ‘You’d better come in, then.’ She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

Charlotte followed the sound of her voice through the empty kitchen and into the lounge. She looked around. Something was different — it took her a moment to work out what. All Zoe’s stuff was gone.

‘Hi.’ Jen was curled up on the old Dralon couch — Charlotte had forgotten how grotty it was under Zoe’s natty country-check cover. She had a glass in her hand and a bottle of red by her side.

‘Hi,’ said Charlotte gently.

‘Want a drink?’

‘Thanks.’

‘Help yourself. The glasses are in the kitchen.’

Returning with one, Charlotte settled herself in the armchair and poured. They sipped their wine in silence.

‘So …’ Charlotte ventured at last. ‘How’re things?’

Jen shrugged. ‘Zoe’s gone. I took her into town today. Her sister came and picked her up.’

‘Yeah. Kath saw you leave. I’m really sorry.’

There was another silence. Charlotte glanced around the room, taking in the empty hooks where pictures had recently hung.

‘So what happened?’

Jen stared into her glass for a few seconds, swirling the wine. ‘She thinks I’m in love with you.’

‘She
what
?’ Charlotte nearly choked. She couldn’t help but laugh just a bit. ‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever …’ She trailed off as Jen looked up and into her eyes. ‘Oh Christ. Jen …’

Jen dropped her gaze quickly. Oh God — were those tears?

‘But,’ stammered Charlotte, ‘you know I’m not … that I’m …’

‘Into men?’ Jen sighed bitterly. ‘Of course I do. I used to
sleep across the hall from you, remember?’

Charlotte winced. ‘I’m so sorry … I didn’t … it just never occurred to me that you might …’

‘Have feelings for you?’ Jen’s voice softened. ‘I know. That’s one of the things I love about you — that it never occurred.’

Silence again.

Jen took another gulp of wine. ‘It’s nice for a girl to think she might occur just once or twice, though.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘Well, maybe once or twice … you know …’ She studied Jen’s face, hoping for a smile in return. ‘Just not …’

‘Long term?’ Jen’s mouth twitched. ‘Katy Perry has a lot to answer for.’

‘I swear,’ said Charlotte, hand on heart, ‘if ever a girl was going to occur, it would be you.’

She held out her wine glass. Jen refilled it.

‘So now what do we do?’

Jen sighed. ‘Well, I think the usual drill is, we promise not to let this get in the way of our friendship, you go home, I get drunk, and in the morning we pretend we never had this conversation.’

‘Is that going to work for you?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘I know what I probably should do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Leave.’

‘No!’ Charlotte was horrified. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘I need to get over this. I’m not sure I can do that if I stay here.’

‘You could try.’

‘Yes, I could try.’ Jen sighed again. ‘Shit. Why is it that knowing you should do something doesn’t make it any easier
to do it?’ She picked at her sleeve. ‘I love working here.’

‘Then stay! Move back into the homestead with me — it’ll be like old times.’

Jen raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.’

‘I am,’ said Charlotte firmly. ‘I miss you being there. And besides’ — she looked around — ‘this place is a dump.’

Jen smiled. ‘It has lost a bit of its charm.’ She got up. ‘Fancy another drink? I’ll open a new bottle.’

As she walked back from the kitchen, a gust of wind shook the cottage. They looked at each other. Crap. Charlotte checked her watch. Fourteen hours early — the front had obviously picked up speed. Rain slammed against the roof.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘I’d better go open some gates, just in case.’ They should have a few hours yet before the river rose, but if the gates were open the ewes would make their own way up if there was any trouble.

‘I’ll go,’ Jen volunteered. ‘It’s not like I’ve done anything useful today.’

‘It’s okay. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at things myself.’

‘I’ll come for a ride.’

The ewes and lambs in danger were west of the river — the homestead side — opposite the main road and the cattleyards, near the entrance to the station. Chucking on their wet-weather gear, Charlotte and Jen set off down Blackpeak’s five kilometre drive, windscreen wipers struggling on full, peering into the rain.

As they swung into the top gateway of the river block, they saw some of the mature ewes already waiting there, their lambs dozing on the ground below the relative shelter of their mothers’ bellies. Charlotte smiled to herself. If you wanted to know what mountain weather was really going to do, ask an old merino.

Jen leapt out and fastened the gate back, water streaming off the brim of her hood. Charlotte changed into low ratio and chugged into the paddock. Behind her, in the red glow of the tail lights, she could just make out the ewes filing out through the gate to higher ground. Jen got back in, and slowly, mindful of sleeping stock, they headed across the block to the opposite gate. Less river-savvy sheep stumbled up and out of the Hilux’s path, their eyes glinting green in the headlights.

‘Let’s check the river,’ Charlotte yelled over the rain, nosing the truck down the line of the fence towards the willows. She pulled up at the top of the stopbank. But in the light of their torches, the river was still running placidly down its usual course, low and clear. Charlotte listened. She could barely make out the sound of its flow at all above the downpour. They climbed back into the truck, water cascading off their coats and onto the floor of the cab.

After circling the block, they drove down to close the main station gates, just in case any escaping sheep should turn the wrong way and make their way onto the road. Charlotte stopped again to inspect the ford before going in. It was safe, but the level was definitely up — six inches, maybe, Jen reckoned, leaning out of the window to peer at the wheels as they reached midstream, above where it had been when she came through on her way home.

The rain wasn’t letting up. Charlotte dropped Jen back at the cottage and made her way home. It wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that her thoughts strayed briefly from rivers and rain and stock and feed, and she began to replay the evening’s conversation in her mind. She paused, toothbrush in hand. Had she done the right thing? Was it selfish to ask Jen to stay? Yes, her reflection told her.

Climbing into bed, she thought of Jen doing the same,
lying there in an empty house. Alone and lonely. Just the thought of feeling like that made her want to call Rob. She glanced at the clock — it was nearly midnight. Six hours until dawn, at which point they’d have to get back out and muster the river block in earnest. Charlotte pulled the duvet up and drifted off to the roar of the rain.

When her alarm went off the next morning, the rain was still teeming onto the roof, but the roar had a deeper note. She listened. The river was up.

By the time she and Jen got back down to the flat, last night’s placid stream was gouging hungrily at the top of the stopbank, a surging mass of brown water in which huge trunks of fallen willow tumbled and bobbed like matchsticks. As they watched, it breached the lower bank to the east and spilled out over the narrow flat to lap at the main road.

On their side of the river, the remaining sheep were still in little danger of getting more than their feet wet. The dogs worked them along the top fenceline, where they’d assembled miserably, and through the open gate onto the spurs that rose above the river to the north. It was tussock country and recently cattle-grazed, but it would do for a day or two until the river came back down.

When they’d finished rounding up the ewes that had headed up the drive and set them back with the rest of the flock, Charlotte and Jen went down to take a look at the ford. Even Charlotte was impressed.

‘Well, I guess the gates are staying shut.’

‘Looks like we’ll be on our own for a while,’ agreed Jen.

Where there had been a bend in the river, the burst stopbank upstream now offered a more direct course, and a new channel was pouring straight over the eastern flat, through the cattleyards and down into the ford, where it
rejoined its old course in a spectacular bow wave.

There was a resounding crunch as a floating willow was tossed through the yards. In a few seconds more, a mass of splintered timber crested the wave and disappeared downstream.

‘Ouch,’ said Jen.

Charlotte swore. She watched the remains of the yards sweep by and sighed. It paid to be philosophical — on the grand scale of things, this wasn’t a huge disaster. Insurance would pay. But it was going to make getting the surplus cattle away to the sales a little tricky.

Rob arrived ten days later, the old truck dripping and a huge smile on his face. Pulling up outside the homestead, he popped the bonnet and peered in.

‘Checking for trout,’ he grinned, turning round as Charlotte wandered out. ‘Your ford’s seen better days.’

Charlotte slid her hands up around his neck and into his wavy gold hair. Seeing him there, his blue eyes laughing down at her, made her realise just how much she’d missed him. It had been over two weeks.

‘So, what do you want to do this afternoon?’

‘Come on.’ He swept her up over his shoulder. ‘I’ll show you.’

‘We can’t!’ Giggling, Charlotte pounded on his back. ‘Kath and Jen are here. Put me down.’

‘Oh, I intend to.’

‘No, seriously …’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes,’ she ordered, realising, with a pang, that Jen was probably watching all this through the kitchen window.

Rob put her down without letting go, one hand behind
her shoulder blades, the other pressing her hips against his. ‘Hmmm,’ he said, his eyes moving over her body, ‘so what am I going to do with you, then?’

‘How about,’ she said slowly, fighting the urge to give in there and then, ‘we get out of here for a bit. Just the two of us. I thought we could go for a ride.’

Rob raised his eyebrows.

Charlotte shook her head and pushed him away. ‘Go drop off your bag and say hi to Kath and Jen. I’ll get the horses.’

They took the track up to the tarn on Black Peak, the sure-footed station hacks needing little guidance. It was a lovely spring day, with a clear blue sky arching overhead and a gentle breeze barely ruffling the tussock. They rode close together, the warming sun on their backs and the hills rising all around them.

‘I got an email from Nick today,’ Charlotte told him. She giggled. ‘With an employment contract. Fratelli Sammartino drew it up and sent it over.’

‘Yeah?’ Rob smiled. ‘How long do they want you to sign up for?’