Hope's Road (22 page)

Chapter 34

The radio beside her bed burst to life with a scream of rock music. Tammy rolled over, opened one eye. Surely not. It couldn't possibly be six am.

She slung her legs off the bed and staggered to the bathroom, tripping over the tissue box, which was lying empty on the floor. Shit. Bugger. Blast. Tissues like clumps of snow dotted her bedroom floor.

No wonder her eyes felt like they were seeing through slits. She made it to the bathroom and peered in the mirror. Swollen red lumps stared back at her, ringed by heavy bags of black and cerise. Lucky she didn't have to be anywhere bar the dairy this morning. What in the heck happened?

And then it all came crashing back. The lawyer's phone call. Crying. Milking the cows. Crying. Staggering back to the house. Crying. The wine bottle. A maudlin daze. She was selling Montmorency and Shon Murphy, along with his solicitor, were ‘very pleased'.

‘I'll bet he's flamin' pleased,' Tammy muttered as she struggled into her milking clothes. On went the old jeans, the flannel shirt, a wind-cheater stained with last night's milk, followed by a peaked cap covered in cow-shit. ‘He'll get a share of a multi-million-dollar property. And he knows selling it will just about kill me.'

‘Kill who?' said a voice from around the door.

‘Christ! What the –?'

‘You can't kill Christ.' Lucy entered the bathroom wearing the brightest scarlet Betty Boop PJs Tammy had ever seen. ‘He already died. But he came back. Mind you, he went again. Just like most men. Well, that's what I think happened. Anyway, you're a Catholic, you should know.' She peered right into Tammy's face. ‘Damn, you look terrible.'

‘No shit, Sherlock. What're you doing here?' said Tammy, squinting her eyes to try to allay the sledgehammer knocking around in her skull.

‘You rang me, remember? Some tripe about selling the farm. Thought you'd been drinking so I came round straight away. In my pyjamas too. You shouldn't drink on your own, Tammy. Bad form, my girl. Even Betty for company would've done.'

‘I wasn't drinking!'

Lucy's eyebrows shot into the air. ‘So what was the empty wine bottle doing on the bench? Having a party all on its own? You're a one-pot screamer, girl. I would've thought with your breeding you could do better.'

‘And just what is that supposed to mean?'

‘Joe. Look at him. He can hold his drink no worries at all. But you, you're hopeless. Remember that night at the Burrindal B & S? You and one of the McDonald boys. Which one was it? Macca? Tys? Maybe it was Sean?'

Tammy shut her eyes. The sledgehammer was really going to town now. What's more her brain felt like it was being squashed in a vice. And yet despite all that, a vivid picture of the McDonald boys, all cousins, snuck into her mind. She could never go past the new section of boundary fence without thinking of Macca and what he'd lost on that fateful day. The afternoon his girlfriend, Patty O'Hara, died when her red ute crashed into a B-Double truck. Bluey Atkins, the rig's driver, had never been the same after the smash. He and his wife had finally sold up their fertiliser and stock feed business. Going to Darwin, they said, as far away from Narree as possible. The whole incident had rocked the district for months.

Tammy shook her head, then wished she hadn't as the hammer went wild. Anyhow, things had turned out all right for him in the end. Macca was with another girl now. Lived somewhere up around Mount Isa.

‘Luce, about selling the farm . . .'

‘It was all bullshit. Me and Betty know. By the time we got here you'd finished the bottle and passed out.'

‘Luce . . .'

‘I know. I'm good, coming around at that hour. But all I did was respond to a friend in need. I think even a bloke like Christ would be happy with that.' Lucy paused for breath and then said, ‘Although, it beats me why you weren't ringing Travis Hunter.'

‘I think I tried but he wasn't home.'

‘Probably for the best. You seriously look like shit.'

Tammy shut her eyes again, counted to ten. Be nice, Tammy. ‘Thanks for that.'

‘Hey, don't you ever wash your milking clothes?' Tammy opened her eyes and saw her friend, who was by now back near the door, wrinkling her nose. ‘I think I'll go make coffee. Much easier on the olfactory senses.'

‘The
what
senses?'

Lucy gave Tammy a sympathetic glance. ‘Don't you worry your pretty little head over my nose. I'll go inhale caffeine. That'll fix it.'

‘Fix what?' Tammy was by now completely lost. But Lucy and Betty Boop were gone.

Tammy flipped the lid of the loo closed and sat down. How the hell was she going to get through all this? As well as the headache, her face was now coming out in sympathy and throbbing too. Probably from all the crying the night before. Crying never got anyone anywhere, anyway. She'd learned that a long time ago from her grandparents.

Tammy had been told right from when she could first comprehend that her mother had died and had assumed it was when she was being born. Of her father she had no idea, didn't even put it together that there was a missing significant ‘other', until she got to kinder and school and met other children with two parents.

She also worked out very early on not to ask about Natalie, otherwise her grandmother would get upset, disappear into her room for hours. For days afterwards she would walk around with a tragic and grief-stricken air that struck Tammy to the core. She was the cause of her grandmother's pain; it was her fault for being born.

And compared to Tammy's friends' mothers, Mae was a distant maternal figure, like mothering was something she did out of reluctant duty. Beautifully groomed, Mae also seemed to want a replica of herself in her granddaughter, a mirror image that could be moulded to fit Mae's idea of perfection. But all she got was a tomboy with a wild streak.

‘Oh, but you're always wearing jeans!' Mae would say, in
that
tone of voice. ‘Oh, but your hair is so short . . . You're so strong-minded . . . You're such a
farmer
,' like it was the worse thing in the world for a girl. Much and all as she loved her grandmother, Tammy eventually shut it all out and spent her time outside with Grandpa Tom or running wild around the property and surrounding hills. Somehow she instinctively knew she would never meet Mae's high standards and approval no matter how hard she tried.

On the day Mae let it slip that Tammy's mother had actually drowned, they'd been in the middle of a howling argument over whether fifteen-year-old Tammy could stay overnight at her boyfriend's place.

‘I'll tell you why you can't,' cried a distressed Mae at the rebellious teenager after the argument had rocked back and forth. ‘You'll end up just like your mother, pregnant and then dead in a river!'

Her grandmother had then clapped a hand over her mouth, sat down and broken into tears, while a shocked Tammy had yelled back, ‘What do you mean,
dead in a river
?' The only answer she got was heartbreaking sobs, crying that went on and on from a woman who sat swaying back and forth.

It'd taken the sudden entry of Tom into the kitchen for a cup of tea to end the stand-off. He'd taken Tammy down the paddock, giving a distraught Mae time to collect herself, and explained the story of Natalie's death. That they really didn't know who Tammy's father was. The fact Mae couldn't deal with her daughter's death, the sense of failure of it all, so it was just easier never to mention her, to forget Natalie even existed. There was only one reminder left now and that was Tammy herself.

Tom had held his granddaughter's hand tightly while he tried to explain her grandmother's fragile state of mind on the matter, his eyes begging forgiveness for not telling her the whole story earlier. His need to protect Mae had overridden everything else.

And finally Tammy had understood why she'd felt like an outsider to her grandparents' relationship. They were supposed to be a family circle, but they weren't. She sat slightly to the left or right, never tight within. She wasn't Natalie. She didn't entirely belong. And it was all about Mae. Tom and Tammy pleasing Mae, the whole
world
pleasing Mae. It was just the way it was, whether the older woman did it consciously or not, and they were all a party to the deception.

Tammy spent hours dreaming of Natalie, and what she would have been like. It wasn't that her grandmother didn't love her, because Tammy sensed in her own way she did, it was just . . . well . . . Mae never focused solely on her granddaughter. Subsequently Tammy would have given anything to have known Natalie. What was she like? Was she a tomboy too? Would her mother have been proud of her?

She sure as heck wouldn't be proud of me now, thought Tammy as she stood up and made her way out of the bedroom, steadfastly ignoring the mirror on the dressing table as she went. She could hear Lucy in the kitchen singing along to Rod Stewart. Time to suck it up, stop thinking about the past and move forwards.

First things first though, to have breakfast or not? Tammy knew she had to get something in her stomach, otherwise she'd never make it through milking without spewing. She'd have to run the gauntlet of Lucy and Betty Boop. God help them all.

‘I still don't see why you have to sell the farm!' Lucy was horrified all over again. ‘The bastard can't make you do that.'

Tammy held a cup of tea in one hand, the other palm was in front of her face as if subconsciously trying to deflect Lucy's attack. ‘Apparently he can,' she mumbled into the hot tea. Then she mimicked the solicitor's voice, ‘It's going to be a great outcome all round.'

‘I'll give her a great outcome all round. All round the bloody district. She'll never get work in this valley again!'

‘Well, she's getting plenty of work at the minute. Apparently there's a run on divorces.'

‘Mmm, another reason I should look into becoming a lesbian.'

‘Because lesbians
never
break up. Come on, Luce. What makes you think that'd be any different? They're still your partner. Marriage certificates don't mean jack-shit any more.'

Lucy looked taken aback. ‘I suppose you've got a point.'

‘Too right I have. Doesn't help me with Shon though.'

‘So what do you have to do now?'

‘Go to town. Sign some papers. Sell the place. Give Shon his share of the proceeds. One hundred and fifty years of McCauley history – all over rover.'

When Tammy looked up from smothering jam on her toast, Lucy's eyes were welling with tears. ‘Oh man, Tammy. No wonder you got drunk. What're you going to do?'

Tammy picked up the jar of plum jam she'd made with the fruit from the century-old Montmorency orchard. Screwed on the lid. Got up from the table and pushed her chair in. ‘I'm going to milk my girls. Enjoy every last minute I've got with them. They'll have to be sold too, I guess.' Tammy felt tears started to prick her eyes. Damn. She wouldn't cry again. She'd done enough of that. ‘And I have to try and work out how I'm going to tell Joe.'

Lucy gasped. ‘Oh, my Lord. I forgot about him. He'll be shattered.'

‘I know,' said Tammy. ‘He mightn't have set foot on the place until recently but it's still a big part of him, whether he knows it or not.'

‘How're you going to tell him?'

‘I don't know. I guess I'll just have to blurt it out.'

‘Wait a bit,' advised Lucy. ‘Just until you've got your own head around it.'

‘You reckon?'

‘Yep,' said Lucy nodding. ‘You'll need every bit of strength you've got for that conversation. In the meantime, go see to your girls. Me and Betty are going back to bed. We've got some serious beauty sleep to catch up on.' And Lucy formed a pose reminiscent of Ms Boop.

Tammy couldn't help but laugh. ‘You do that.' She went to walk out onto the back verandah to find her boots, but then she paused and popped her head back into the kitchen. ‘Luce?'

‘Damn it, girl. You've gotta go milk those cows. You'll miss the tanker.'

‘Thanks. Thanks for being there for me. Again.'

Lucy Granger glanced over her shoulder as she carried the plates to the dishwasher, and winked. ‘No worries. Where else would I get my drama-queen fix, if it wasn't through you?'

Chapter 35

The milk tanker roared out the drive as Travis Hunter wheeled in.

‘Ms McCauley.' He doffed his hat like they did in the old days. The gentleman was back again.

‘Trav.' Geez, the man looked good. He'd obviously just had a shower as his hair was still damp and curling softly at the nape of his neck. It made him look vulnerable somehow.

‘How'd you go this morning? Any sign of the dog?' asked Tammy. If he was taking the time to stake out her paddocks in the hopes of killing the mutt that was attacking her calves, she needed to show interest even after yesterday's news.

‘Nope. Not a thing. I'll keep watch though every other day for a week or so. See if he comes back. Sometimes they take more stock right away, other times they wait awhile. No rhyme nor reason to it all.'

Tammy nodded, which in turn hurt her head something fierce.

Trav got out of the ute and changed tack. ‘Me and Billy are off to town now to catch up with the audiologist. The lady comes to the hospital once a fortnight and they managed to squeeze us in.'

For the first time Tammy noticed Billy in the passenger seat, also dressed in what looked like his best clothes – a pair of clean blue jeans, a chequered shirt, sleeves folded precisely to the elbow. A miniature version of his dad except for the red hair.
He
didn't look vulnerable, just pale and anxious.

Tammy leaned into the cab, making sure she kept her dark sunglasses on. She didn't want to scare the kid. ‘Hi, Billy. How's it going, mate?'

A small voice answered, ‘Orright. I think.'

‘Going to have your ears tested?'

‘Yep.'

‘You okay about that?'

‘Yeah, I guess . . .'

‘It'll be fine, mate. No worse than me yelling at you to open the gates when we feed out hay.'

‘I'd prefer to be doing that. Feeding out the hay, I mean.' The little boy ducked his head, but not before Tammy had seen a pair of glassy eyes.

Tammy tried to lighten the mood. ‘So, after your appointment, have you organised to do something special in town?'

Billy shook his head. He was biting his bottom lip now.

Tammy turned to Trav, who was listening intently but not saying a word. ‘C'mon, Dad, you have to do something special after our little mate here has been so brave and got his hearing checked.'

‘Like what?'

Tammy wondered if she looked as exasperated as she felt. She forced a smile for Billy's sake. ‘Oh, I don't know. Something fun. Maybe go to McDonald's for lunch?'

Billy appeared eager. Trav screwed up his nose.

‘A play at the park?'

Trav seemed interested. Billy frowned.

‘A swim in the heated pool?'

Both father and son looked horrified.

Tammy mentally threw her hands in the air. ‘Well, surely between the two of you you can think of
something
!'

Father and son glanced at each other. Something seemed to click. ‘The saddle-shop?' suggested Trav.

Billy nodded and suddenly a wide smile lit up his face. Trav responded with a half-grin of his own and Tammy felt her legs melt away from beneath her. Goddamn it, the man was sex on legs. Get a grip on yourself, McCauley. She dragged her attention back to Billy. ‘What's so good about the saddle-shop?'

‘A stockwhip. One of my very own. I've been saving my money.'

‘Of course. What every boy your age should have. But don't come cracking that thing around my girls,' said Tammy, winking at the child to take the edge off her words. ‘Or I'll have to whip you back.'

‘I won't. I promise. But old Joe has promised to teach me how to crack a whip. Like a real
pro
-fession-
al
, he said.'

‘He'd know how to do it, too, I'll bet,' said Tammy, with wry twist to her words. ‘He's a real expert at anything like that.' Along with fishing, and shooting – especially ducks. And hares. ‘You have a good time then. I'd better let you head off.' She made to move away from the ute but Trav grabbed her around the waist. Tammy felt the warmth of his fingers through her shirt. Then the feel of his thumb as it caressed her skin through a hole in the cotton. Shivers thrummed through her body, right down to her very toes. She looked up at the man. ‘Yes?' she breathed. It came out sounding like a wheeze. She cleared her throat. Had another go. ‘Yes, Trav?'

‘We wondered if you'd come with us?' Trav hesitated, then, seeming to realise he had hold of her, let her go. The loss of warmth was staggering. He stood back and formally said, ‘Billy and I would be most obliged if you'd come to town with us and . . . argh . . . ummm . . . help us choose a whip . . .' The last words came out in one almighty gush, ‘. . . and come to the hearing test.'

Tammy pointed down to her cow-yard clothes. ‘But –'

‘Please Tammy? Pretty, pretty please? I'll wash down the yard tonight for free,' said Billy. ‘We'd really like you to come. Wouldn't we, Dad? Please say yes.'

‘We'll wait while you change. We've got time. Don't have to be there until eleven-thirty.'

Tammy considered them. Billy's face was still stuck in a comically pleading pose. Trav's face was now impassive but his fingers gave his agitation away. He'd grabbed hold of her hand and was almost unconsciously drawing her towards the ute.

She flung her free arm towards the house, where Lucy's car was evident. ‘Luce is here. She stayed the night.' Some of it, anyway. ‘I can't leave her; that'd be rude.'

But just then, Lucy appeared out the back door, heading towards her car, still wearing her Betty Boop PJs.

Trav gaped. Even from this far away the scarlet pyjamas were something to behold. Especially when topped with yellow and pink hair.

‘She wear those all the time?' asked Trav.

‘Ummm . . . yes. That's why I wear dark glasses.' Liar, McCauley.

‘I can understand that,' said Trav as Lucy Granger poured herself into her little white car and moved off.

‘Watch out, here she comes. You might need some sunnies yourself,' said Tammy with a wry smile. So much for Lucy's beauty sleep. She wondered what had happened.

‘Hey, Hunter.' Lucy pulled up beside the ute. ‘And how's my buddy-boy Billy?'

Tammy watched as Billy hid a wince. ‘I'm good thank you, Mrs Granger.'

‘Mizz Granger to you, kiddo. Or Lucy. Or Luce. Or maybe Betty? Have you met Betty Boop?' She pointed to her top.

Tammy thought she'd better save the child. ‘What happened to sleeping in?'

‘Oh that danged phone of yours rang and rang and rang. I had to get out of bed and tripped over the tissue box and then had to find the phone, which someone had managed to hide
under
the bed. It must have slipped off after you rang me in your drunken stupor –' Lucy clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oops! I wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Did you hear me say anything, Billy?' She looked hard at the boy. ‘No of course you didn't. We won't say anything about Tammy swallowing a whole bottle of wine
by herself
, and then ringing me in the middle of the night, all maudlin-like, shall we?'

Tammy could feel Trav's eyes burning holes in her skull but she wasn't going to glance at him. No, all her dirty looks were focused on her best friend. Her very nearly
ex
-best friend.

‘Goodbye, Lucy.'

‘Goodbye, Tammy. Oh, and by the way, your bed is
so
comfortable. Betty and I had a lovely catnap before that Alice woman from the gallery rang.'

‘Alice rang again?'

‘Yep, said to tell you the gallery opening starts at six o'clock on Friday. She sounds very nice and invited me too. I said I'd let you know and I'd make sure you told all your mates, who you obviously
hadn't
told.'

‘She only rang yesterday morning, and I've been a bit busy since then,
as you well know
!'

‘Yes, yes, yes. No worries. Anyhow, I'll tell Dean and Jacinta and anyone else I can think of.'

That meant the whole town, thought Tammy uncharitably.

‘You coming, Hunter?' asked Lucy.

‘I haven't been invited yet.'

Lucy sighed. ‘Tammy! For goodness' sake, do I have to do
everything
for you?'

‘No –'

‘Travis Hunter, will you hereby take Tammy McCauley to the Narree Gallery Opening next Friday night? There. Done. So?' Lucy raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes. I will.'

‘That sounded like you were getting married,' said Billy.

‘Thank you, Lucy. That will be all,' said Tammy. ‘And you, Billy, don't go getting any weird ideas. One marriage is enough for me.'

Billy looked downcast. ‘That's what Dad always says.'

Tammy glanced at Trav but he was staring at Billy, an unreadable expression on his face.

‘I'll be seeing you all,' Lucy called, driving off.

‘Yeah, right,' muttered Tammy. ‘In another life.'

‘So, are you coming?' This was from Billy. ‘It'll be better fun with you, Tammy. C'mon. Plea-se?'

How could she say no to the boy? Plus the fact his father still hadn't let go of her hand.

‘I did have to run into Narree today anyway. Got to do some stuff at my solicitors. Would I be able to do that while we're there?' She directed her query towards Trav.

He nodded in response. ‘Yeah, while we're at the appointment maybe?'

‘All right then, I'll come. But you'll have to let me grab a quick shower.'

‘Sure thing!' said Billy, now jumping up and down on his seat. ‘That's okay, isn't it, Dad?'

‘Absolutely. We've got time for a shower,' said his father.

‘Not you,' said his son. ‘Tammy.'

‘Oh yeah, right.'

But Trav's eyes told a different story. Her stomach started to do a weird, fluttering thing like a squadron of moths or butterflies were on the loose. Her knees went weak, and then he did that bloody half-smile thing again. Oh. Dear. God. She was in trouble.

‘I'll go and um . . . get started . . . um . . . shall I?' She waved an arm vaguely towards the house.

‘You do that,' said Trav, not taking his eyes off her for a minute.

Goddamn the man.

‘I'm going now,' said Tammy, not moving an inch. She'd forgotten she was wearing dark glasses, so intent was she on his gaze, which now seemed to be slowly undressing her. That was until a hand came up and removed the sunnies. She tried to snatch them back but she was too late.

‘Tammy?' said Trav, concern quickly replacing lust. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing.'

‘But –'

‘I had a migraine. It hurt a lot.' Oh damn it. She could have thought of something better than that. She slid the glasses back onto her nose.

‘You had a migraine so you drank a whole bottle of wine?'

‘Yes,' said Tammy, crossing her arms. ‘I thought it might deaden the pain.'

He'd let go of her hand, stepped back and was now leaning against the bonnet of the ute, his arms folded.

‘I find it helps. You get a migraine, have a glass or two or three of wine, then you pass out and hey presto, no more pain. Well, not until the next morning at least.'

‘And where does ringing Lucy in the middle of the night come into all this?'

‘Oh that,' said Tammy, flicking her hand as if brushing her best friend away like a bush-fly. ‘Just a minor detail.'

‘Yes?'

‘Well,' said Tammy, purposely putting an exasperated note in her voice. ‘She
is
a nurse with a well-stocked medicine cabinet.' Tammy smiled. ‘Now, I'll just run up to the house and have that shower. We don't want to be late.' She walked, then jogged, then ran towards the house. As she got to the garden gate she slung one look back across her shoulder.

Trav was still leaning against the bonnet of his ute, frowning. Damn it. That whole charade hadn't worked. But she didn't want to tell him about Shon and the farm. She didn't really want to tell
anyone
besides Lucy.

And in any case, Joe had to know next.