Morgan's Law (18 page)

‘It's on back order—there's nothing else I can do about it. We just gotta wait for it to get here,' Bruce cut in calmly, sending a loving glance at her BMW parked in the centre of his workshop beside a cattle truck that stank of manure and two four-wheel drives splattered in mud and God only knew what else.

‘If I knew all the trouble this damn car was going to be, I would have asked for a bloody Toyota. I don't imagine getting Japanese parts would be this difficult.'

Bruce sent a horrified glance from Sarah back to the BMW, as though to check the car hadn't overheard its deranged owner's insulting comments. ‘An engineering masterpiece like this can't have generic parts put in it. That would be . . . sacrilege.'

Eyeing Bruce doubtfully, Sarah shook her head and walked out of the workshop, muttering under her breath.

‘That's great news!' Tash grinned, after hearing Sarah bemoaning her latest disaster.

‘How is that possibly great news?'

‘Because I need your help with something and now you'll have the time to do it.'

‘What kind of help?'

‘Professional help. We're holding a meeting later this week to announce the latest developments and I wanted to clue you in first.'

‘But it's got nothing to do with me,' Sarah protested.

‘There's no way we're going to be able to fund this co-op thing in Negallan alone. We're planning a road trip to take the idea around the district to try to raise the money we need.'

‘How much are you going to need?'

‘We're aiming for a million.'

Sarah blew out a long low whistle.

‘Exactly. It's a bloody lot of money and we're going to need help.'

‘What do you want me for?'

‘I want you to help design our spiel to the other communities in the district. We've got the passion and the drive, but we want this to be a professional presentation—and for that we need you.' At Sarah's dubious frown, she quickly added, ‘We're asking people to put their money on the line for us, Sarah, money that a lot of them really can't afford to hand over at the moment. We need to make this thing professional. We're going to be targeting high-profile people in the district—it can't just be a chat over tea and bickies, it needs to look like it's worth a million dollars if we have any hope of raising that amount of money. Please, Sarah, we could really use your help here.'

Sarah gave a small sigh. She'd been about to tell Tash that she would be booking a flight home and would freight the damn car back to Sydney. She couldn't do this any more, it was becoming too complicated. Adam's revelation last night had made her realise that she was hurting people— people she cared about—by hanging around and messing with their lives when she had no intention of ever returning to this place once she left. But with Tash asking for her help, how could she not stay?

‘Sure. I'll help out any way I can.' She heard the words come out of her mouth and hoped that she knew what the hell she was getting into.

Sarah began straightaway and over the next few days found herself working long hours and enjoying the challenge of getting back to basics—doing the creative work she loved. For the last few years, as she'd made her way up the corporate ladder, she'd had to leave much of this raw creative stuff to the less senior staff. Her job now focused more on the clients and the financial aspects of the campaigns. But her real passion lay in the creating.

She'd forgotten just how much she loved it. It didn't matter that this project was a lot smaller than she'd normally be hired to work on; in truth her agency wouldn't have touched this—their clients were huge corporations with budgets that went into the millions for just one ad. It was refreshing to work small and grassroots.

She put together a press release as well as pamphlets and information packs, lined up interviews with newspapers and scored a big hit with a national newspaper for an upcoming rural edition.

She was exhausted, but pleased with the result. Besides, she wasn't the only one walking around with dark circles under her eyes—Tash had thrown herself into the whole thing with a vengeance.

‘Why don't you have an early night tonight?' Sarah said.

‘We've pretty much got everything under control now. You look like you're about to drop on your feet.' The two of them were sitting together in the back courtyard having a quiet drink—the first in a while.

‘I can't,' Tash sighed, dropping her head back to look up at the night sky. ‘I have to get Dad's room ready and make sure the orders have been done, and that's just for starters.'

‘I'm sure you've got it all sorted. But if anything's not done, your dad can handle it, can't he?'

‘I just don't know if I've done the right thing asking Dad to come back here,' Tash sighed again. ‘It's just that I believe in this thing we're doing, Sarah, and I really don't have any other choice.'

‘Of course you don't. I'm sure your dad understands that. Why are you so worried about it? Is he not up to handling it? I thought he used to run this place?'

‘He hasn't been the same since—'

Sarah watched in dismay as Tash, usually so strong and self-assured, fought to get her emotions under control. She reached out and covered Tash's hand with her own.

‘I'm sorry, I'm not usually this dramatic,' Tash apologised, embarrassed as two large tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Almost two years ago I lost my older brother.'

Sarah felt a rush of sympathy for her friend and gave Tash's hand a gentle squeeze of support.

‘Dad hasn't really got over it. He had a bit of a breakdown and that's when I took over the pub and he moved to the Sunshine Coast. I'm just not sure if he's going to handle coming back here, and I won't be here if he doesn't.'

‘Well, you're not going too far away, so if there's a problem I'm sure there're enough of us here to hold the fort until you get back.' Sarah rummaged in her purse and handed over a tissue.

Tash sniffed and gave a small chuckle. ‘Thanks, Sarah. Yeah, I know you're right, I guess what I'm really worried about is how
I'll
cope with Dad being back here.'

Sarah waited quietly, watching as Tash blew her nose and regained her composure.

‘It was always Dad, Jamie and me . . . It's been hard since Jamie died, to get used to it being just the two of us. We don't seem to have anything to talk about other than the pub and business . . . It feels too weird to be alone with him, it's like a constant reminder that something's missing.'

Sarah swallowed back a lump in her throat as she watched this strong woman struggle. ‘I think you're handling all this really well considering it happened such a short time ago. Maybe your relationship with your dad will get better with time, you know?'

‘I think the problem is that I haven't been handling it at all. Throwing myself into this place until I can't think straight makes it easier to not think about how much I miss Jamie . . . or how
pissed off
I am with him.'

For a minute the vehemence in Tash's voice caught Sarah off guard. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Jamie killed himself.' Tash fought back an angry sob.

‘Instead of asking for help he took his life, and left me and Dad behind to pick up the pieces.'

Sarah thought back to that first night when Tash had told her about the suicide statistics in town—one of them had been her own brother. ‘This is why getting the gin up and running is so important to you,' she said quietly.

Tash wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and took a deep breath. ‘I can't stand by and let this happen to anyone else. It's a living hell for the families left behind— no one should have to go through what we have.'

‘What happened to make him do something like that, Tash?' It seemed incomprehensible to Sarah that anything could be so bad that killing yourself was the only way out.

‘He and Dad never saw eye to eye—ironically, they were so much alike. After Mum died, Dad just lost interest in the place—he couldn't handle the physical side of farming as well as he once did, so he bought the pub and stepped aside to let Jamie take over the place. But it was Jamie's stubborn bloody pride and the fact he refused to ask for help that ended up costing him the farm.'

Sarah had always wondered how properties were handed down when there was more than one child. The curiosity must have showed on her face because Tash smiled tiredly before answering. ‘It's okay, I didn't get shafted or anything— I get the pub . . . eventually. Dad did me a favour sparing me the burden of the property.'

‘He never told anyone?' Sarah felt ill just thinking about the amount of debt it would take to lose a property the size of the ones out here. It must have been a terrible weight on her brother's shoulders.

‘He'd been trying to cover up the damage for a long time before it all caught up with him. By then there was nothing anyone could do to stop the property from being sold. It'd been in our family for three generations.' Tash shook her head sadly. ‘By the time we realised how bad his situation was he'd already given up hope. He was moody and drinking heavily. I knew he wasn't himself. I tried to make him get help, go see a doctor or something, but he wouldn't have a bar of it. In the end, I stopped going out to see him . . . I shouldn't have, but he made it so hard. He was so
angry
all the time. I just wish I'd done something more, but by the time we heard, they were already foreclosing. Dad went out to see if it was true, make Jamie tell us how bad it really was . . . He was the one who found him . . .'

There was a lump in Sarah's throat at the effort of holding back her own tears.

‘Stupid bastard—all he had to do was ask for help,' Tash whispered. ‘Losing the farm absolutely gutted Dad, but losing his
son
just about killed him.'

‘I don't know how you've coped with all of this. I'm so sorry.'

Tash shrugged. ‘I have my days—like today,' she said with a derisive twist of her lips. ‘I go from hating what he's done to missing him so damn much I can't stand it.'

Hot tears stung Sarah's eyes and she blinked hard to keep them at bay. There was nothing to say, no words could possibly make this better, so Sarah just sat beside her friend and held her hand, listening to the soft calls of the crickets and frogs in the garden beyond as the soft evening breeze dried the tears on their faces.

Sarah wasn't sure what to expect when she met Jack Nobel, Tash's dad, but it was clear the man who arrived at the pub the next day had seen more than his fair share of pain. His eyes held a deep sadness, but she could also see the same inner strength Tash had. Although there was an initial reserve about him, after being greeted warmly by the flood of locals who came through the pub doors, he seemed to fit right back into place like the missing piece of an old jigsaw puzzle.

‘I guess I was worrying about nothing,' Tash commented as she watched her father telling a joke to a small group of regulars.

‘Maybe all he needed was a little space away from all the memories. What about you?' Tash acted as if she was tough enough to take on anything, but Sarah knew Tash had had to be the strong one in her little family for too long.

‘What about me?'

‘Your dad got a break from all this,' Sarah said, indicating the pub with a nod of her head. ‘When do you get to put down everyone else's baggage and do something just for you?'

Tash stared at Sarah thoughtfully. ‘You know, there have been times when I've wanted to run away from it all, but the truth is, that's not the way I am. I tackle things head-on. Sure, I could do with a weekend to myself, but in the end you return to the same life, the same problems. I guess I'm just not a stand-by-and-do-nothin' kinda gal. It used to drive Jamie crazy.'

Sarah saw Tash's smile tremble a little as she mentioned her brother's name.