Love or Money (9 page)

‘Daddy!' The gate opened and Dwayne ran to his father, squealed with happiness as Hamish swung him off the ground, whirled him above his head, and hugged him. A young woman followed — barefoot, carrying a string bag. Draped in tie-dyes, skirt trailing the ground, a mess of dreadlocked hair falling across her face, she followed the little boy towards Hamish. She had to be Hamish's partner.

Erin must maintain her cool, welcome the woman, hide any reaction. Then, as she watched Hamish collect a bag of toys from the woman's car, she saw his face fall, his shoulders hunch. Hamish's body language shouted defeat, resignation, pain. What lay behind that unlikely pairing? As the couple walked, Dwayne scampered beside them. He was their child and they loved him, she told herself. What else mattered? The little boy grabbed his father's hand and Hamish swept him into the air again with a laugh.

‘Hey. Don't chuck him about too much, Hamey,' the woman said. ‘He just had his brekky.' Hamish lowered Dwayne to the ground, patted his head as Erin watched from the shade of the cottage veranda. Any moment now, he'd introduce her to his partner. But he didn't. He dropped the bags in the summerhouse, left the dreadlocked woman, and walked back to Erin.

‘Better get round to the troops and see if they need any help,' he said. ‘Tools, plants, whatever.' He followed a bunch of workers into the tangle of scrub behind the house. The woman caught Erin's eye, then walked over.

‘Dwayne's always hungry. Got any munchies? A bit of cake?'

‘Of course.' Erin smiled. ‘On the table in the summerhouse.' She led the way, flicked a muslin cloth off the food. Seconds later, mother and son attacked a pile of Anzac biscuits, then the Black Forest cake. Erin retreated. The array of yummies she'd carefully arranged for morning tea would be trashed by that pair in no time flat. She disappeared into the kitchen. Everyone except her had settled into the jobs Hamish had given them. It seemed he'd forgotten his hostess. What should she do? For a second, she felt abandoned, a lonely alien in the midst of a happy team.

‘Hi, Erin.' She looked up. Hamish's height all but blocked the light from the kitchen doorway. ‘Busy, are you?'

‘Well, no. Lost, more like it. What am I supposed to do?'

‘Like to come with me? Shoving a pile of dead branches around is a lot easier with two.'

‘Thank you,' she said. ‘I'd love to.'

‘Great. Could you bring the wheelbarrow down?' He pointed. ‘It's in the woodshed.' She detoured via the shed, found the barrow, and followed him down an overgrown path she'd never seen before. Soon she found the path blocked by a large fallen tree. She watched while he poured fuel into the chainsaw's petrol tank, pulled on the starter rope, and steered the screaming chainsaw into the log lying in front of them. In a couple of minutes, he'd lopped off a bundle of branches. He stopped the motor. Erin silently thanked him. The noise was painful. He'd worn a safety helmet with earmuffs, but she hadn't. She watched as he took off his helmet and stepped towards her.

‘These branches. We need to untangle them a bit. Make things safer. I'll lift.' He grabbed a branch, straining to ease it out from the tangle of other branches. ‘If you can push sideways.' He waved his arm to show her how. ‘Now — heave.' She pushed as he lifted. The tangle of branches creaked, but stayed tied together.

‘Nope. Can you come closer to me? Get better leverage.' She moved her grip until she was literally rubbing shoulders with him. She caught the smell of petrol mixed with male sweat, felt the warmth of his body against hers. ‘Okay, once more with feeling,' he grinned. ‘Now — heave.' The branch slid out from the tangle. ‘Great! Now a couple more. Keep close to me.' She found herself squatting between his arms as he reached down to get a grip on the next branch. ‘Now — heave.' His arms closed round her and the branch moved. He looked down at her, smiled. Something inside her melted. She loved being close to this well-built, smiling man. Loved pushing alongside him as their bodies strained together, touching.

‘This is working well,' he smiled. ‘A couple more branches and the pile should be pretty manageable. Think you can stand here —' he gestured to a space between his arms, ‘and shove the bottom log to the left while I lift the top one?' Between his arms? She was going to stand there while he put his arms round her and heaved on a log. She grinned inwardly, knowing she'd love every sensation — sight, sounds, smells, touching — as he strained to lift the heavy log. She slid into the narrow space, felt the warmth of his arms round her again. With her head against his chest, she heard him grunt as he lifted. Then with a heave, she eased her branch aside so it was no longer pinned by the log he strained to hold high.

‘Thanks,' he said, lowering his log. His arms relaxed round her. He dropped the log and she stepped out from his embrace. ‘We're a great team. You knew exactly when and where to shove.' He straightened, retrieved the chainsaw. ‘Now I can get a bit of production going. Maybe you can toss the sawn bits into the barrow?'

‘Sure. Junior woodcutter Spenser reporting for duty,' she grinned. There was something easy, fun, about working up close and personal with the tall, broad-shouldered man who was master of his little world. He flicked the chainsaw into action and sawed away, branch by branch, until there was a small mountain of wood for her to collect.

For the next hour she wheeled the loaded barrow back and forth to the woodshed while Hamish worked the saw. The pile in the shed grew. Though dollars to donuts she'd be gone before winter, she pictured herself sitting beside her fireplace on a wintry night, stoking these same logs into the fire. Then she saw empty dinner plates on the table, Hamish sitting beside her, smiling at her, tanned face glowing in the flicker of the burning logs. Stop it! she ordered herself yet again. The man has a partner and a child!

Around eleven, the team materialised from the bush surrounding the garden and headed for the summerhouse. Erin had managed to smooth the trail of destruction left across the finger food by Dwayne and his mother. She watched as the pair wandered away from the summerhouse to sit on the lawn. From the corner of her eye, she saw them munch their way through the pile of goodies they'd stolen from the table. The workers took their seats in the summerhouse. As Erin poured tea and passed cakes, people welcomed her to their little community.

‘Lovely sponge, Erin. Every bit as good as Edna's.'

‘Glad to have someone as nice as you taking over from Edna, Erin. We were worried the place might go to some developer. Some Sydney dude who'd bulldoze everything in five minutes flat.'

‘We'd love to help you with your flower garden after you settle in, Erin. Edna used to have a lovely display in the front garden, all year round.'

Erin flinched. Now was not a good time to tell them she'd sell the place the minute she could; that her mother might die before winter. She watched Hamish as he sat with his coffee, talking, pointing, surrounded by his fan club. Glancing outside, she saw Hamish's partner pull a packet from her bag and make a roll-your-own cigarette. Then she lit it and lay on the grass, smoking as her son played beside her. A few people threw her a polite hello, smiled at Dwayne, but it was obvious the woman was on the outer with the team. How could that be, when Hamish was the centre of attention, the acknowledged leader?

‘Okay, gang.' Hamish looked at his watch. ‘That's twenty minutes. Let's get back to it.' He turned towards Erin. Need any help with lunch?'

‘No, but thanks.'

‘Great. We'll magically reappear at one, then.' Erin braced herself for the next miracle, hoping lunch would be as successful as morning tea. She cleared the mountain of cups and plates and headed for the kitchen. There was soup to be heated, quiches to be warmed, a huge bowl of salad to be tossed, and meat to be organised for the barbeque.

As she put the final touches to the lunch table, the workers meandered in, downed tools, took their seats. She threw an assortment of meat onto the barbeque, then watched as the hungry workers stacked food onto their plates. Dwayne and his mother had disappeared. Probably bored, she'd taken her child home. The long lunch ended. People began to drift off. It had been a good day for the property, but a terrible day for Erin's heart. It had begun with Hamish's whispered apology, and ended with her falling back under his spell.

‘I'm going to help you with the dishes, Erin.' Jenny Receptionist gathered a pile of dirty plates and headed for the kitchen.

‘Thanks Jenny, but I'll be fine,' Erin said. ‘You've worked hard enough already.'

‘No, love. I always helped Edna clean up. Might as well stick with tradition,' Jenny insisted. ‘You can reciprocate when the Landcare gang comes to my place.'

‘Well, thanks.' Erin could hardly tell Jenny about her plans to sell. She began to wash up while Jenny dried.

‘What did you think of Honey, then?' Jenny asked.

‘Honey?'

‘Hamish's partner. With the dreadlocks.'

‘Mmm. I rather wondered.'

‘There's a story there. As you might imagine.' Jenny's grin spoke volumes. Now Erin saw why she'd chosen to stay behind and help.

‘I'd be interested to hear it.' Erin winced in advance at what she might now learn about Hamish. It would be best to know the truth, then deal with it.

‘The Biggses.' Jenny drew a long breath. ‘Honey is a Biggs. They've lived in these parts for generations. Like Hamish's family. The two farms lie pretty much next to each other.' Jenny waved towards the hills. ‘But talk about chalk and cheese. The Bourkes — hard working, organised. Lovely property. It's been nurtured and loved for a hundred years. Those Biggses, the opposite. A disaster. Ernie, Honey's father — he's run their farm for the last twenty years — a drunk. Raeleen, her mother — run off her feet with kids. We don't think they've found out yet what causes ‘em. Honey was the baby of the family. A pretty little girl, but what hope did she have?'

‘But how did Hamish —'

‘I'm coming to that, dear.' Jenny had a story to tell, and she wasn't about to be rushed. ‘As a little kid, Hamish was bright. Didn't fit in at the local school. Shy. A loner. After high school, he went to study law at Sydney University. But as the old saying goes, you can take the boy out of the country, but —'

‘You can't take the country out of the boy.' Erin added, signalling to Jenny that she got the picture.

‘From what Nellie — that's Hamish's mum — told me,' Jenny continued, ‘Hamish's years at university were more of the same. The shy loner, the nerdy type who burned the midnight oil over his books while others partied. Apparently he had a couple of short disastrous romances with girls in his classes, but nothing permanent. When he came back to The Bay on vacations, he'd stay home at nights. Licking his wounds, Nellie said.'

‘Anyway, Hamish finished his law degree and came home. Oh, and a degree in environmental science as well. For the fun of it, he told us, rather than to get a job. As luck would have it, he picked up the local law practice from an old-timer desperate to retire. Well, then,' Jenny spread her hands wide, ‘Hamish's hormones started to bloom like a garden of spring flowers. I could see it. I came with the practice he'd just bought, so I worked with him in the office from day one. At weekends, he had time on his hands. He got back into surfing, working on his parents' property, breathing the country air. Then he decided to look for a nice girl. He'd hang out at any likely place, from the local church to the monthly Friday night movie at the School of Arts. Nothing happened. He found the nice girls were all solidly engaged to nice guys.'

‘But what about Honey?' Erin couldn't stifle her curiosity for another second.

‘Patience, dear.' Jenny picked up the old iron pot from the sink and began to scrub it, lovingly, slowly. ‘Okay then, Honey. She'd stumbled through Luna Bay Primary a year behind Hamish. For most of their schooling, they shared the same school bus, killed time together every weekday morning while they waited for the bus on their corner. Then walked home together every afternoon after they left the bus stop.

Honey dropped out of high school the minute she was legally allowed — the same as her brothers and sisters had done before her. When Hamish came home for university vacations, he'd have noticed that Honey had blossomed. On the fourth Saturday of the month — that's Luna Bay's market day — Honey would cruise the main street. All the young things do — wearing tight blouses with lots of cleavage, and those terrible flared skirts, far too short, in those hideous clashing colours. It seems Hamish spotted her, exchanged a word now and again.

Then one evening she dragged him to the Bay Hotel, Luna's one and only watering hole — but you'd know that, Erin. Well then, knowing Honey, knowing her family, you wouldn't wonder that she sometimes drank a bit too much. So Hamish probably did too. Marvellous what a drink or two can do for a shy boy.' A picture of Hamish flashed into Erin's mind — shy, lonely, unhappy, snubbed by the some in the community since he'd become what the locals called ‘educated.'

‘Anyway, it seems Hamish took to dropping into The Bay Hotel of a Friday night. As we locked up the office at five, he'd often tell me he was heading up there. Probably taking a chance on meeting Honey again, I thought to myself. And soon enough, he did. Then the news got about. They were dating. It was coming into summer. You can imagine what happened in the back seat of Hamish's car. On those warm spring nights after an hour or three in the pub. Next thing, Honey was in the family way. And the word got round town that it was Hamish's doing. He didn't deny it. One day at the office he let me in on the secret everyone knew.

“Jenny,” he told me. “I offered to marry her, but she said she didn't really want to — not yet, anyway. What should I do?”