FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (10 page)

Queenie ate her toast and finished her tea and made a fresh pot just as Millie appeared in the kitchen finishing buttoning up the front of her floral house dress.

‘Tea’s made, Millie. Second pot, I’m one ahead of you.’

‘My, my. You’re up and at ’em early. Going for a ride?’

‘Maybe later. I’m going to catch up on some paperwork in the office.’

‘I’ll go feed the chooks in a minute,’ said Millie, slicing some bread for toast as Queenie headed for her office.

Millie went to the rusty forty-four gallon drum used for the chook feed and slid the sheet of tin from the top, only to discover it was empty. Sighing, she tossed the bucket of food scraps at the hysterical chooks who flew about her ankles in hunger and furious infighting.

Rather than bother the men who had enough to do about the place at present, Millie went to the small tool shed where the grain was stored. Stepping into the shadowy dimness she went to where the sacks of wheat and mixed grain were stacked in a pile. She couldn’t quite reach the top bag, so she dragged a small wooden crate over and stood on it.

Sneezing from the chaff and dust as she tugged at the sack, the flimsy box she was standing on gave way. Millie hung onto the sack trying to keep her balance but fell backwards, bringing several sacks of feed down with her. Her head hit the cement floor and she passed out.

When she opened her eyes, her head was throbbing, and for a moment she couldn’t focus properly. She tried to move, only to find her legs were pinned by the bags of feed. But as she became aware of her surroundings and her position, the full horror slowly dawned on her.

Her hair was moving. It was being pulled and burrowed into. She could feel small scratching movements all over her body and then something slipped from under her neck, and across her face ran a huge brown rat.

Millie went hot then cold and broke into a horrified sweat. The physical pain she felt was immaterial to the overwhelming terror that engulfed her as she felt more furry creatures scrabbling beneath her clothes.

She opened and shut her mouth but no sound came out. Fearful one of the rats would try to enter her mouth, she clamped her lips shut. But it was too much to remain silent and Millie opened her mouth and began to scream Long and loud and hysterically she screamed, but her voice was hoarse with fright and scarcely any sound could be heard.

Queenie tidied up her desk, closed the analysis book and went into the kitchen. Millie’s bread dough was sitting in a bowl on the edge of the Aga stove covered with a tea towel. Queenie made herself a fresh mug of tea and a thick slab of bread and marmalade and went into the office to phone Tango, wondering where Millie had gone.

‘Morning, Mum, how are things?’ said Tango when Queenie got through to him.

‘So, so,’ sighed Queenie. ‘I can’t stop worrying about your father.’

‘I know it’s tough right now, Mum, but he’ll come good.’

‘I just wish I could do more for him. He’s like a limp rag, it’s as if all the fire has gone out of him.’

‘He tries not to show it, but he’s in terrible pain.’

‘I know, darling, I know. Dingo is flying over to see him this week. How are you managing at Guneda?’

‘I’m keeping tabs on everything, it’s all under control.’

‘You know, Tango, it’s time we started getting on with life. TR wouldn’t want anything neglected, you know how much he’s poured into Guneda and those horses. We can’t afford to put everything on hold. Between Tingulla, Cricklewood and Guneda we’re running a major corporation. We must give it our full attention, we owe that to TR.’

‘That’s what I’m doing, Mum, so don’t worry about me. Hey, one of Bill’s mares is about to foal — it should be a good one too.’

‘Sweet William the Second?’

‘There’ll only ever be one Bill. They say you shouldn’t get attached to the horses, but Bill started it all for us really by winning the Melbourne Cup. He and old Bobby.’

‘I know he’s had leg problems, but do you think Bill could ever race again?’

‘I doubt it, though that’s up to TR. But Bill’s leading the life of Riley down here at present. Though he does give us trouble occasionally — he can be quite picky about his women. We had two wonderful mares and he wouldn’t service them. Didn’t want to know them.’

Queenie smiled. ‘And what about the women in your life, son?’

Tango laughed. ‘They come and they go. I think I’m a bit picky too. Anyway, between
you and Sas and Millie and Mum Ryan, I have enough women in my life.’

Queenie chuckled, then said goodbye and hung up, her heart filled with love for the boy she nearly lost. For a moment her heart constricted as she thought of all the years they’d lost — having to adopt him out as a baby, missing seeing him grow up, not being there to comfort him in times of hurt or enjoy the times of joy and achievement. She took a deep breath. All that was behind her. She had her son now and he gave her great strength. Selfishly she was glad, for the moment anyway, that there was no special girl in Tango’s life.

Several hours later Jim tapped at Queenie’s door. ‘You seen Millie anywhere? Came up for smoko and she’s nowhere about and nothing goin’ on in the kitchen.’

Queenie looked up in surprise. ‘No, I haven’t seen her since breakfast when she went off to feed the chooks.’

‘Okey-dokey, I’ll nose around a bit. Might have to make me own tea. Want a cup, Queenie?’

‘Thanks, Jim. I’ll pop out in a minute.’

Jim looked at the shrunken bread dough and untouched breakfast dishes and headed straight for the chook yard. As soon as he got close to the grain shed he heard a moan and he broke into a sprint.

As he rushed in, the rats scattered, leaping over the grain sacks, through holes in the tin wall and under stored implements. He bent over Millie, who was shaking, her eyes
squeezed shut. As soon as he touched her she recoiled and opened her eyes staring at him with unfocused glazed eyes.

‘Millie, Millie, luv, it’s me — Jim. What happened? Can you move?’

‘No,’ she managed. ‘Make ’em go ‘way, Jim.’

Jim spoke soothingly. ‘They’re all gone, luv. You’re fine.’ He moved her legs from under the bags of feed and Millie instantly curled into a foetal position, hugging herself and moaning. Jim felt her body and found nothing that appeared to be broken.

‘Listen, luv, you’re all right. Why didn’t you just wave your arms about and sit up? Come on now, you can move okay.’ He helped her into a sitting position and she stared at him, the whites of her eyes still wide with fear.

‘They was all over me, Jim. Them . . . things. I couldn’t move. Ouch, me head hurts.’ She suddenly clutched at her head.

‘You’ve got a lovely egg coming up on yer head all right. I reckon you musta bin frozen in fright. Come on, luv. Let’s get you back to the house.’

Leaning against the comforting shape of her husband, and limping heavily, Millie made it back to their quarters, where she took to her bed.

Queenie insisted she rest but Millie was back in the kitchen the following morning. ‘Millie, what are you doing up? That lump on your head looks bad, I think we should get the doctor to fly in and check you over.’

Millie shook her head briefly, then put a hand to the lump. ‘No luv, it’s only a bang on
the noggin. And I got a few bruises. But I tell you what, I didn’t sleep so good. I’m gonna have nightmares about this for weeks.’

Queenie gave her a hug. ‘I’ll give you a mild sedative to help you sleep. You’ll be over this in no time.’

Millie shook her finger at Queenie. ‘And don’t you go tellin’ people what happened. I don’t like bein’ teased.’

Queenie smiled at Millie fondly. ‘No, we won’t. And Jim has put down poison, so we’ll get rid of the . . . you-know-whats.’ Dear Millie, she was no spring chicken and the thought of anything happening to her made Queenie’s heart ache. If only TR could recover as easily as Millie had.

Dingo McPherson announced himself to the ward sister and was pointed towards TR’s room. He pulled his best bush hat from his head, smoothed his thinning white hair, hitched up his belt and marched inside.

But it was more difficult than Dingo ever imagined to sit beside TR, struggling to make conversation with the man he regarded as a son, with whom he’d ridden through the days and nights across the gidgee, but who was now looking at him with blank eyes. Dingo had seen a lot in his long life, but the sight of TR, incapacitated, unaware and so lost, nearly broke his heart.

‘Listen, mate, you gotta get out of here. Get back to Tingulla and get stuck into things there. This place isn’t doing you any good. As soon as your leg is outta that contraption, get
moving. I don’t care what you do or don’t remember. Take my word for it, mate, anything’s better than this. You had it all, believe me. If I was you, I’d shut my mouth, say I was better, go to Tingulla and wing it till I was cured.’

TR smiled. ‘Reckon I’d get away with it?’

‘I’ll never tell. Now listen, you take care. I’ll be keeping tabs on you. I’m going to check in on Queenie at Tingulla then take a look at that bull programme at Cricklewood. I might go down and see Tango at Guneda too. Maybe buy a racehorse and get him to train it. Or get hold of one of his young fellas. You boys are starting to breed a few good ones. I need a new business interest to keep me out of mischief.’

Dingo paused, looking at his friend with deep affection. This is a tough one, TR. I suppose this has happened for a reason, maybe to remind us never to take things for granted and make the most of every moment. But after what you and Queenie have come through, it doesn’t seem right. You two treasured every day, I reckon. Never seen two happier people. So get on with it. Get on your feet and pick up your life, TR. There isn’t a short cut across the paddock in this one, but know that we’re all behind you. Take care, mate.’ The old man’s eyes were damp as he held onto TR’s hand.

TR felt the grip of affection and saw the warmth and sadness in Dingo’s eyes and thought, ‘I must’ve done something right in my life to have a family and friends like this’.

After Dingo had left, TR could hear him teasing and admonishing the nurses. ‘Give TR
the works. I want him fit and back on a horse quick smart.’ A nurse laughed. ‘Well do our best, Mr McPherson. But aren’t you getting on a bit to go galloping round the country with TR?’

‘You’d be surprised what I can do, young lady,’ said Dingo with a wink. ‘And we don’t intend to gallop, we shall ride like gentlemen across this wide brown land.’ Grinning, he replaced his hat and strode down the hall towards the lifts, leaving the sister and the nurse watching with admiration and smiles on their faces.

Saskia was back at university and studying hard, but she found it hard to maintain her concentration. TR’s accident had unsettled her. It had made her realise how fragile life could be, how one’s life could change in an instant. It had made her look carefully at her own life. When she thought seriously about it, she began to question whether being a veterinarian was really what she wanted.

She loved animals, but if she was honest, she cared more about horses than about cows or dogs or cats. Horses were in her blood. They were all she’d ever really been interested in. Once, being a vet had seemed the best way of being near them, but now she began to wonder. Maybe there were other opportunities she could pursue that would allow her to work solely with horses. She wasn’t quite sure what those opportunities might be, but suddenly the remaining years of study stretched interminably before her.

Maybe she could call her mother, talk it through with her. If anyone could understand her obsession with horses, it would be Queenie.

‘Hello, Mum,’ said Saskia when Queenie answered the phone. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Hello, darling. What a lovely surprise,’ said Queenie smiling at the sound of her daughter’s voice. ‘I’ve just been outside picking jasmine. The smell always reminds me of my twenty-first birthday. Such sweet and sad memories.’

‘The night Nana Rose died. And the night you fell in love with TR,’ said Saskia softly.

‘I suppose that was the night I fell for TR. Though I didn’t know it then. Oh, how he used to annoy me!’ Queenie laughed as she remembered TR’s gentle teasing humour.

‘You were both too competitive. You always wanted to prove you were best,’ chuckled Saskia. ‘Well, so everyone tells me.’

‘I suppose I was . . . still am,’ said Queenie thoughtfully. ‘You’re a bit the same, Sas. It’s not a totally admirable trait, you know. Temper the ambition and drive with judgement. I’ve learned to stop, think and ask, do I really want to do this? Then assess what the odds are of coming out on top before plunging ahead. You can be a bit impetuous at times, Sas.’

‘Is that another way of saying I rush in where angels fear to tread?’ asked Saskia.

‘Yes, I guess it is.’

‘But sometimes people make mistakes, misjudge things, make the wrong decisions . . .’

‘That’s why you must look before you leap, Sas. Go slowly and carefully with thoughtful judgement and you shouldn’t go wrong.’

Saskia was silent. How could she tell her mother what had been on her mind now — she’d just think Saskia was being rash and impulsive. That’s your head talking, not your heart,’ she said finally.

They talked briefly about TR and Tango and Saskia hung up, feeling she’d somehow been dishonest with her mother, but Queenie had enough to worry about. Saskia would just wait until there was a more opportune time to bring up the subject of changing her career.