Standing Strong (11 page)

‘It could still have been him,' Ethel said. ‘What if he didn't know anything, but has reported you just to cause you grief – payback? If only you could find out who made the report.'

‘It will all be kept confidential for now. And rightly so. People need to be able to make complaints without fear of retribution.'

‘I suppose so. So you're really going to resign? And write and plead guilty?'

‘I don't see any other alternative. I've got to cop it on the chin, Ethel, as much as I don't like it.'

‘Well, at least discuss it with Doctor Squire. Perhaps he can help,' Ethel said, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.

‘I doubt it. But I won't just hand in my resignation without an explanation. That would be too strange. He'll probably be pleased to see me go. I can just hear him, “Oh, the young of today”,' she mimicked.

‘He might surprise you.'

Yeah, and pigs might fly,
Jacqueline thought.

‘I wish there was something I could do to help,' Ethel said, lifting her hands and dropping them again in a gesture of helplessness.

‘I do too, I do too,' Jacqueline said sadly.

There was a feeble knock on her door. They both looked up, startled.

‘I'd better leave you to it,' Ethel said, jumping up. She grasped Jacqueline's hands, gave them a squeeze, then offered her a grim smile before letting them go.

Standing at the door was Jacqueline's next patient, Mrs Smith, flushed with embarrassment, and ten minutes late.

‘It's okay,' Jacqueline said. ‘Come on in. Ethel was just leaving.'

The two old ladies exchanged greetings as Ethel left and Mrs Rose Smith entered.

‘I'm so sorry I'm late. I clean forgot. Well, almost,' she said, clearly flustered.

Jacqueline struggled to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon. Thankfully each of her patients was like Mrs Smith and didn't seem to want any more from her other than for her to listen to them. Some were there for a natter and some were there to hypothetically discuss problems their friends were having. Jacqueline urged them to get their friends to make an appointment.

She went through the motions until five p.m. and then she was free. She practically bolted out the door. She'd meant to get a few things from the supermarket, but couldn't face the extra walk up there and back and putting on a cheery front to all the people she might meet along the way. She'd live without milk. She just hoped there was another portion of her mother's lasagne in the freezer.

Oh God,
she thought, as she collapsed on the couch,
what a bloody mess
. She yearned to call her parents, hear their words of comfort, but feared coming clean and disappointing them.

Ethel must have seen her arrive, because just a few minutes later she was on Jacqueline's doorstep, ringing her bell, steaming casserole in hand.

‘Oh, Ethel, bless you,' she said, ushering her friend in and giving her a tight hug.

‘If you want to be alone to think things through, I'll completely understand,' Ethel said.

‘No, please, come in. I could do with the company. There's nothing really to think through. I'll do the letters tomorrow. Glass of wine? I'm opening a bottle, seeing as I might not be here much longer,' Jacqueline said wistfully.

‘Fiddlesticks. We'll have none of that negative talk. It'll work out. You'll see.'

Jacqueline couldn't muster the energy to point out that it couldn't possibly be fine, and wouldn't work out. It was a done deal. She thought she could practically hear the cogs turning in Ethel's brain, searching for a solution. She could knock herself out, meddle anyway she liked, but there wasn't anything that could be done. At least whatever Ethel did, she couldn't make the situation any worse. Jacqueline tried to force it all out of her mind – she wanted a quiet evening with her good friend for company and a nice glass of wine or two and a decent meal. She'd deal with the mess that was her professional life tomorrow, or maybe bury her head in the sand for a few more days.

Chapter Twelve

On Friday morning, Damien was surprised to hear a knock on his caravan door. He'd heard a vehicle arrive, but had stopped taking notice days ago on account of all the coming and going for the house building project. He thought they must be close to pouring the slab any day now the site was cleared, but he was staying well out of it and letting those who knew about building deal with it. He had enough on his plate.

He was further surprised to see his auntie Ethel standing just beyond the steps, and even more so to take in her slightly haggard appearance. Usually she was so bright and bubbly; today it seemed each of the steps was like climbing Everest for her. A jolt of fear ran through him as he reminded himself she was no spring chicken. What would he do if she got sick and/or died? The thought filled him with terror. But that was life, wasn't it? People got old and died. He shook it aside. Everything was going so well, the last thing he needed was to start worrying about something he had no control over.

‘Good morning. Lovely to see you,' he said, taking care to sound extra cheerful. ‘Cuppa?'

‘A cup of tea would be much appreciated, thank you,' Ethel said, taking a seat on the wraparound leather couch behind the table.

‘Are you okay?' he ventured, leaning on the bench while waiting for the kettle to boil. ‘It's just you seem a little down, or something.'

Ethel flapped a hand, as if in frustration or dismissal, he couldn't tell which.

‘Fine. Just one of those nights. Didn't sleep too well.'

‘Anything I can help with?'

‘No, afraid not,' she said quietly. ‘But, thanks anyway,' she said, offering him a feeble smile.

He turned back to the bench to prepare their mugs, wondering why she was there at nine o'clock in the morning, or even out for that matter. It was forecast to be a hot windy day – a ‘shocker' in CFS terms.

‘But sure could do with a cuddle with one of these guys,' she said, looking about the van. Squish took it as his cue. He hopped up onto the couch, threw himself into Ethel's lap, and gave her a hearty lick. ‘Yes, thank you, that's lovely, Squish,' Ethel said, looking less impressed than her words suggested, wiping the slobber off.

Next, perhaps sensing that there might be some fresh fruit on offer – which she seemed to have developed a liking for – Jemima hopped forwards and sniffed Ethel's leg.

‘Aren't you growing up fast?' Ethel said, leaning down and giving the joey's ears a rub.

‘Yes, I'm going to miss her when she's too big and has to spend all her time out in the run. Not letting her inside is going to be hard.'

‘Well, you won't have a choice. This place is too small to have her thumping around. Sometimes you have to be a little cruel to be kind – to both her and you,' she said, smiling sadly. Where was the brightness that always shone from Auntie Ethel's eyes and provided so much light and hope?

‘Fancy a bikkie? Oaties, Anzacs, or whatever you want to call them. Not sure where they came from. Must have been leftover from the working bee. They've gone a bit soft,' Damien asked as he placed the mugs on the table.

‘Oh, what the hell, yes, thanks. Could do with a bikkie to cheer me up.'

‘So, what's the matter?'

‘Oh, nothing specific. Just a bit tired and ragged around the edges.' And there was that hand flap again.

Damien felt as if his concern was being dismissed. Oh, well, he'd tried. He'd just have to wait now and see if she decided to tell him.

‘Well, these little guys will cheer you up,' he said, bringing the box of kittens from his bed. Ethel, Jemima and Squish peered in. The little dog, deciding they weren't food, and thus weren't interesting, vacated the couch and curled up on the floor beside Jemima.

‘They get on well, don't they?' Ethel said, nodding at the unlikely pairing.

‘Practically inseparable. I wouldn't be surprised if Squish takes to spending his nights out with Jemima when she goes. It's as if they've formed a club – the saved – or something. I wonder if the kittens will join when they're bigger.' He chuckled, but he felt a little sad every time he thought of the kittens being bigger, because that meant they'd be leaving. For the first time he could see how hard this running an animal welfare charity might be on his emotions. But he couldn't shy away to protect himself. That would be selfish. He took two of the kittens out and handed them to Ethel.

‘Oh, aren't you gorgeous. They've grown a lot already. You really have found your calling, Damien. I'm so proud of you.'

Damien wanted to kindly tell her to shut up before he got all teary. He wasn't used to such kind comments. His mum had pushed him hard over the years – now, having taken a step back, he was starting to see just how hard. There had been very few glowing endorsements.

‘Speaking of which,' Ethel continued, ‘your new enclosure out at the gate is genius. I stopped and had a good look. I reckon: even an oldie like me could figure out the instructions on the phone if needs be.'

‘Thanks, Auntie Ethel, that means a lot. It's a bit of a work in progress. I'm sure I can improve it heaps, but it'll do for now.'

‘Oh, and I completely forgot. How did the visit with the oldies up on the hill go? I was going to phone you. Sorry about that.'

‘No worries. It went brilliantly. Oh, Auntie Ethel, I really think the animals made their day. It felt so good to see their faces light up as they interacted with the animals. And Bob and Cara and Squish and Jemima loved it too – they behaved so well, like they'd been doing it for years. The kittens went down a treat too. I'm hoping down the track the hostel might adopt a couple. Fingers crossed. And fingers crossed Wednesday wasn't a fluke, because we're going back again next week.'

‘Oh, that's great. Everything is really coming together. I'm so pleased. Your dad would be so proud, too.'

‘Thanks. So, I thought you'd be home battening down the hatches against the heat,' he said, desperate for a complete change of subject to lighten the mood.

‘Just felt the need to get out. You know how it is: sometimes the same four walls that you love suddenly feel oppressive?'

Oh, yeah, he knew all right. He hoped his aunt wasn't slipping into a depressed state like he had; he doubted she'd consult Jacqueline properly now they were such good friends – just like he wouldn't if he needed to now. He was pleased to be ripped from his thoughts of Jacqueline by his mobile phone going off.

‘Oh shit, this can't be good,' he said, looking at his phone. It was the captain of his CFS brigade, Keith Stevens. Summer had officially ended but there were still bursts of hot weather, which was why the fire season didn't end until the fifteenth of April – still a month away.

‘Hey, Keith,' he said.

‘Hey, Damien. We're sending two trucks out to the Peak. Hopefully just a matter of monitoring and cleaning up by the time we get there. I know you're busy, but I just wondered if you could come along? We're having trouble fielding two teams. There seems to be a heap of guys and gals still off on their beach holidays. That or just not answering their mobiles or pagers.'

Damien remembered he'd left his pager in his ute. Oops. ‘Yeah. Look, hang on a sec.' He put his hand over his mobile. ‘Auntie Ethel, it's a CFS callout. Would you …?' He nodded towards the kittens.

‘Of course. You go. I'll take care of these guys. If I get bored I'll take them home with me and put Jemima in the run. But I've got my knitting in my bag, so I should be fine to stay.'

‘You're the best. Thanks so much.' He uncovered the phone. ‘You there, Keith?'

‘Yep.'

‘Count me in.'

‘We'll be going past the end of your road in twenty. We'll put you on truck two one. Can you get there by then?'

‘Yep. No problems. See you then.' He hung up. The adrenaline was already starting to pulse. He hadn't been in touch with CFS properly since he'd lost his house, mostly because the loss had sparked such a sudden change in direction for him and then brought up so much to sort out to follow his new path. He hadn't even thought to turn his pager on until yesterday when he'd seen smoke way off above the horizon while out checking the troughs. He was planning to get back in touch today and let them know he was available if needed after seeing the weather report and extreme fire warnings and bans on the telly. They'd need all hands on deck, or at least available on standby. He'd meant to call Keith first thing, but it had slipped his mind.

It felt good to be back in the loop again. And bless Auntie Ethel for stepping in. She even seemed to have got a bit of her old sparkle back, he thought, turning around and sneaking a peek at her cuddling the kittens.

‘Thanks so much for this. Sorry, guys, but you're staying put,' he said, bending down to give Squish and Jemima a farewell pat. ‘Bob and Cara are locked up in their run. They should be …'

‘I'll take care of everything,' Ethel said. ‘You just get going.'

‘Thanks so much.' He hovered in the open doorway for a moment and looked back at Squish, who was sitting to attention with his head cocked, waiting to be called. He felt a stab of sadness. He couldn't remember a time when the dog had been left behind since the day he'd found him. But it was for his own good; he'd be safe here with Auntie Ethel. On a call out, all hell could break loose at any moment and if it did, the last thing Damien's teammates and the landowners whose properties were under threat needed was a guy with his mind elsewhere.

‘See you,' he called, as he raced out the door, down the steps and into his ute. The UHF radio was full of chatter. Four other units were on the scene and another four from around the district – not including Damien's – were on their way. From the urgency in the voices, he could tell this was bad – seasoned CFS personnel didn't get jumpy for no reason. He felt his heart slow momentarily as he remembered
that
day, not so long ago.