Right As Rain (10 page)

“Why did you leave?” she asked the empty room. “Why?” she called a little louder.

“Hello.” Cam's voice echoed.

Mackenna stifled a groan and rose to her feet. That's all she needed, for Cam to find her wallowing in self-pity.

“Mackenna?”

She pulled back her shoulders.

“Yes, in here.”

She turned to face him as he stepped through the back lobby into the kitchen. Her smile faded as he let forth with some foul language.

He took his cap from his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. “This place isn't habitable yet,” he said. “I thought your dad said it was nearly finished.”

Mackenna felt defensive of her little project. “The rest of the rooms are ready to use. Just the kitchen needs doing now.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Cam looked around then raised his eyebrows at her. “I thought I heard a voice? You talking to yourself, boss?”

Mackenna turned away from his enquiring eyes and bent down to brush dust from her jeans. “You must be hearing the ghosts.”

“Ghosts! No-one told me this place was haunted.” Cam glanced around then back at her.

“Only friendly old family ancestors.” So the big tough guy was frightened of ghosts. Who'd have thought it? “I've never experienced nasty spirits here but I'm family . . .” She let her words hang in the air.

He shifted from foot to foot. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight. Mackenna held her palms up towards the ceiling. “Not everyone can sense them, you know, but I've always had an affinity with this place.”

Cam straightened up and took a few steps backwards. “I said I'd tell you lunch was ready.”

“You didn't have to bother.”

“No bother. I've eaten. I'm on my way to town to get a load of timber to fix a shed. Said I'd call in on my way past. Your mum has the food on the table so I'd get moving if I was you.”

He pushed his cap back onto his head and muttered under his breath before turning around and retracing his steps outside.

Mackenna felt some small satisfaction at Cam's unease, but she wasn't pleased her mother had sent him to call her to lunch as if she were a child. That was another reason why she'd like to move in here. She was tired of living at home. She seemed to ruffle her mother's feathers even more since her return and trying to avoid Cam in the bathroom was a pain. It would be good to have a place to call her own, even if it was only a few hundred metres from home. She hadn't been lying when she said she had an affinity with this old house. It had always felt like it was welcoming her and had been her childhood hiding place when she'd been in trouble.

Maybe Cam's reluctance would work to her advantage. If she got a chance to talk to the carpenter she'd see about getting a kitchen put in. Her father had given her the go-ahead. She closed the door firmly behind her. If Cam wasn't keen to move in she was, and the sooner the better.

It was a quiet Friday afternoon and the shop staff at the stock and station agency were packing up ready to leave on the dot of five. Hugh gave them a wave as he left his office in the back of the building. He'd finished for the week but he wasn't in a rush to go home. With nothing planned, he wasn't looking forward to a full weekend with his parents. A pang of regret rose in him for feeling that way, especially where his mother was concerned but when he was with her he felt the unspoken pressure of her desire for him to stay in the area. He should have made plans to go away, but the local friends he'd kept in touch with were now married and had families. They weren't looking for a blokes' weekend.

He made his way into the main street and strolled along in the general direction of the pubs. There was one on either side of the main road and they would both be filling up with drinkers at this time of the day. He was bound to run into someone he knew.

The shopfronts along this stretch were the old originals and most of them were deserted, but he stopped in front of one that had been given a new lease of life. The paint had been stripped from the door and window frames and the golden brown of the original timber gleamed with a fresh coat of varnish. The glass windows had been cleaned and beyond them Hugh could see metal sculptures. There was a corrugated-iron kangaroo standing tall with a smaller kangaroo at its feet, body bent as if it were just about to eat a mouthful of grass. The metal frame of a windmill rose out of a collection of smaller animals.

Looking at the sculptures gave him an idea. He'd spend the weekend working on his mum's side garden. If he could get it set up properly, she might be able to maintain it after he was gone. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice someone leaving the shop.

“Hello, Hugh.”

“Mackenna.”

Her smile lit up her face.

“I didn't realise this was here,” he said. “I thought all these shops were empty.”

They both looked back at the shop Mackenna had just left. He couldn't believe he'd not noticed it before. It clearly stood out from the derelict fronts either side of it.

“Do you remember Rory Heinrich?” she asked.

“Vaguely.”

“He was several years older than us. Left the district as soon as he finished high school. Anyway, his folks are still here and he's moved back, done up this shop and makes all kinds of sculptures. Sells a lot of stuff online,” Mackenna said. “He's very creative. Makes things from recycled metal. He's going to make me some bronze sheep.”

“I'll have to check it out. He might have something for Mum's garden.”

“So what are you up to now?”

“Heading to the pub.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Happy to have some company.”

They continued on together and Mackenna chatted about Rory and the things he made. For the first time since his return Hugh felt relaxed. Coming back to work in the district he grew up in had been a test. He'd been running from his demons long enough. He wanted to banish them and start his new job in a new country without wondering if he was still running from the past.

“Haven't seen you in a while.”

Both Hugh and Mackenna halted. Neither of them had noticed the man getting out of a ute parked near the corner. Even though his tone was low there was no mistaking the contempt in it.

“Hello, Mr Thompson,” Mackenna replied, but the man wasn't looking at her.

Hugh met the eyes that glowered at him. Carol's father hadn't mellowed over the years since their last encounter.

“I'm working as a consultant,” Hugh said. “Only filling in till Ted's back.”

“I heard,” Mr Thompson said. “Nice that the two of you can enjoy each other's company.” Once again his words had a cynical ring to them.

Sid Thompson's arms were firmly folded over his chest. No handshake looked like it was forthcoming.

“How's Mrs Thompson?” Mackenna asked.

She either didn't notice Sid's stance and tone or she was ignoring it.

“Well, thanks, Mackenna. All things considered.”

“That's good to hear.”

“What about Lyle?” he asked. “I heard he'd had a heart attack.”

“Yes, but the doctors have patched him up. He's on the mend as well.”

Sid turned his eyes back to Hugh. “And your parents? I haven't seen them in a long while. How are they and your
three
brothers?”

The older man's eyes bored into him, the emphasis on the word three a reminder that the McDonalds still had all four children. Hugh could feel the familiar tightness in his chest. He willed himself to breathe slowly and speak calmly. “All well, thanks.”

Sid stood firm. His arms remained folded.

“Well, it's been nice to see you, Mr Thompson.” Mackenna smiled. “I'll tell Mum and Dad I ran into you. Sorry to rush but I have to get to the chemist before it closes.”

“You're in a rush too, I s'pose.” Sid Thompson met Hugh's eyes again.

“Yes . . . well no. I was just heading to the pub,” Hugh said.

“Hmmph!” Sid snorted.

Mackenna had already begun to move on. Hugh nodded at Sid and stepped around him to follow her. Outside the chemist, Mackenna came to a stop and turned back to Hugh.

“That was awkward.” She glanced over his shoulder. “He's still standing there, watching us.”

Hugh resisted the urge to look, despite a prickling in the back of his head that spread down his neck.

“I haven't seen him in a long time but Mrs Thompson's been quite sick,” Mackenna continued. “Some kind of motor neuron disease, I think.”

“Somehow I hoped time would have helped . . .” Hugh's voice petered out as he felt his chest tighten. He closed his mouth and took a long slow breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

Mackenna's eyes widened. “Surely he's not still blaming you for Carol?”

“I went away. We haven't seen each other for years.” Hugh shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing's changed for him.”

“That's ridiculous. You weren't to blame any more than I was. He's got to let it go.”

“She was his only child.”

“I know.” Mackenna's voice faltered. “And my best friend and the love of your life, but we had to keep living.”

“He still wishes it was me not her.”

“It was ten years ago.”

Once again Hugh fought back the urge to gasp in air. What had he been thinking? That he could erase all the pain by arriving back in town and starting afresh? Somehow he'd thought he could find a chance to talk to Mackenna about Carol, but that wasn't going to work. Mack was a good friend. He couldn't bear to disillusion her.

He jumped as she put a gentle hand on his arm. “Look, I've got to collect a script for Dad,” she said. “Why don't you head next door to the pub and I'll meet you there? I think we should talk about this.”

She gave him an encouraging smile then moved swiftly into the shop. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly five thirty. Maybe a couple of drinks with Mackenna would be okay. He just needed to steer the conversation away from Carol.

Around the bar he recognised a couple of faces, blokes he'd been to school with, but the rest were strangers. He bought the drinks and was talking with a local farmer when Mackenna rejoined him. She seemed to know everyone and as the evening wore on he was introduced to most of the people in the bar. Apart from a few questions about what he'd been doing before his return to the district and a couple of work-related discussions, the talk was all light-hearted. No-one cared about the distant past.

Mackenna had become immersed in a conversation with a bloke she introduced as a local winemaker, Chris someone from Bunyip Wines. Hugh got caught up with a guy keen to talk about his new stud bull, but when the bloke went to get another drink Hugh decided to head for home. He gave Mackenna a wave.

“Hugh, we're going to the other pub for a meal. Come with us.”

Chris nodded in agreement.

“Thanks but I've got an early start tomorrow.”

Mackenna leaned in close and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes were bright.

“We've still got to have that conversation,” she said softly.

He gave a vague nod and headed out into the cool night. He was glad there had been no chance to talk with Mackenna alone. His earlier panic was gone. He'd run into Sid Thompson and survived. Even though he thought he'd finally allowed himself to come to terms with Carol's death, her father obviously hadn't reached that conclusion.

Hugh sighed. He wasn't in Sid's shoes but at last he felt as if he could understand the man's anger. He had hoped after all this time it may have dissipated a little but that obviously wasn't to be.

Hugh made his way back along the dark street. At Rory's shop he paused. A couple of lights illuminated the sculptures in the windows. At least bumping into Mackenna had given him the garden idea. Fixing that up would keep him busy when he wasn't working and it would be something good he could do for his mother before he left.

Louise waved to her two sisters as she walked past the window of the seaside cafe. They'd had to drive further than she but as is often the way, the person with the least distance to travel arrived last. She wove her way between the other lunchtime diners to reach the corner table. Marion, the eldest of the three, rose to her feet and threw her arms around Louise in a perfumed hug.

“How are you, darling?” Marion rested her hands on Louise's shoulders and looked at her closely. “You look a bit tired but that's only to be expected after what you've been through. Perhaps Alfred could make you a tonic. How's Lyle?”

“Let her sit and catch her breath.” Caroline, their middle sibling, leaned across and gave Louise a kiss on the cheek as she sat.

Caroline looked smart and well groomed as always. She and Louise liked the same kind of clothes. Marion dressed in layers with beads and bracelets, which were fine for city living but not practical for chasing sheep or pruning vines.

Louise relaxed back into the chair. It was so good to be here with her sisters, even if it had been a rush. Caroline lived closer and had come to visit after Lyle's first stay in hospital, but she'd only spoken to Marion on the phone. Usually they lunched together once a month, but the last two lunches had been cancelled due to Marion's urgent dash to babysit grandchildren in Melbourne and then Lyle's illness.

A waitress appeared at their table.

“I ordered us a pot of tea to share,” Caroline said as the young woman set out cups. “They make such delicate brews here.”

Once the tea was poured Marion asked after Lyle again.

“He's been improving every day since they put in another stent. It seems to have done the trick.” Louise could think about her husband's brush with death calmly now. Although she did still panic easily if he wasn't where she expected him to be. “This morning he wanted to draft some lambs for market, that's why I'm late. He needed a hand.”