Standing Strong (25 page)

‘Would you mind if I made a few calls and arranged your visit while I'm here?'

‘Go right ahead. Use my phone,' she said, pushing it towards him. ‘It's not like it's ringing off the hook.'

It took just two phone calls for Wednesday to be the evening Jacqueline would visit Charity Flat.

‘Every small town has a mover and shaker like Ethel Bennett,' Paul replied when she expressed her surprise.

They shared a chuckle. Jacqueline felt better at having her talk to prepare to distract her for the next few days.

‘Right, I need an early lunch, then I need to go and see a man about some sheep,' Paul said. Jacqueline watched as he checked something on his smartphone. ‘Fancy joining me or do you have other plans?'

‘No. No other plans.'

‘Excellent. Fancy being daring and accompanying me to my favourite secret spot?'

‘Oh, sounds intriguing.'

‘Well, it's not really a secret. In fact, you've probably already been there.'

‘Where?'

‘The lookout just out of town. Stunning views. Quite breathtaking on a clear day like today.'

‘Sounds great. I haven't been to any lookouts yet.'

‘You're in for a treat then.'

*

‘So, what do you think?' Paul asked. He'd backed his ute up to the safety barrier, undone the tailgate, and helped Jacqueline to stand in the tray.

She gasped as she took in the 360-degree view. Below them was the town and beyond that lay farmland in a patchwork of earthy colours. The sky was a brilliant blue above them. After a few minutes, Paul sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the open tray. Jacqueline followed suit.

‘It's a perfect day. You can see right to the sea. Over there,' he said, pointing.

‘It's amazing,' Jacqueline said, in barely more than a whisper. As clichéd as it was, the view really had taken her breath away.

They unwrapped their rolls and lapsed into an amiable silence while they ate, both staring at the view, lost in their own thoughts. Jacqueline was thinking about bringing her parents up here before they left. A trip at night to see the town's lights twinkling might be worthwhile too. She thought it was probably the place local lovers came to ‘park', but wasn't about to say that to Paul.

‘You know they come here to make out – the local lovers?' Paul said with a wink before taking a large bite out of his roll.

‘Really?' Jacqueline tried very hard not to blush. ‘I suppose you did in your day?'

‘What do you mean, in my day? Do those days ever end? I sure hope not,' he said wistfully.

‘Sorry, I didn't mean …' She felt the heat rise under her shirt.

‘Hey, I'm just teasing,' he said with a wave of his hand, and resumed eating.

Jacqueline wondered what he was up to. Was he flirting with her or as he said, just teasing – like a friend would?

‘And, no, the answer is no.'

‘The answer to what? Ah, if you came here to make out or not. Really? I don't believe that for a second.'

‘I did, once or twice, but not that. That wasn't what you were asking.'

‘I didn't ask you anything else.' Jacqueline's heart beat very slowly.

‘But you want to.'

‘Do I now? And what, pray tell, is it I want to ask you?' Two could play at this game. Her heart rate quickened.

‘Okay, so maybe it's not actually a question, but a pondering.'

‘You've lost me,' Jacqueline said, being deliberately obtuse. The heat was rising between her breasts and she could feel the prickle of tiny beads of sweat. Whilst it was thrilling and tantalising and fun, she wasn't sure she wanted this to go in the direction she felt it was heading.

‘No, I'm not going to kiss you, Miss Jacqueline Havelock,' he said, suddenly leaning across and kissing her on the nose. ‘I never kiss a lady on a first date,' he added with a wink.

She was so taken by surprise, she let out a little, ‘Oh,' which she thought might have sound ed very much like disappointment. She hoped not, though she wasn't exactly sure what she felt, other than embarrassed and completely out of her depth.

‘You're fun. I like you, Miss Havelock,' he said suddenly, taking another bite of his roll.

‘I like you too, Mr Reynolds,' Jacqueline said, shooting him a smile before resuming eating.
I don't have a clue what you're about, but you're fun and I like your company.

‘Look, wedge-tailed eagle,' Paul said suddenly, pointing to their left.

Jacqueline turned and her mouth dropped open with awe as she watched a magnificent brown bird gracefully gliding through the air. ‘Wow,' she said.

‘Largest raptor in Australia. But don't worry, they don't prey on humans.' They watched as the bird hovered, dove and then rose again and began circling slowly again.

‘Sadly we can't sit and watch him all day,' Paul said a few moments later and started screwing up his lunch wrapper. Jacqueline was disappointed – it felt like they'd only been there ten minutes, but a check of her watch revealed half an hour had passed. She gathered her own rubbish.

‘I could have, you know, sat and watched that eagle all day,' Jacqueline said with a laugh. ‘It was mesmerising.'
And so much better than having to go back and be reminded that my life is imploding.

‘Oh, well, all good things must come to an end. Work to do,' he said jovially. Moments later he was out of the tray and had his feet back on firm ground. She reluctantly joined him, accepting his hand to help her down.

‘Thank you, that was really lovely,' she said, when a few minutes later they were parked behind her office and she had her handbag in hand, ready to get out of his vehicle.

‘I'm glad. Thanks for joining me,' he said, beaming.

‘Good luck with your meeting,' she said, and got out.

‘Thanks. Good luck with drumming up business. And if you decide you want to stay over on Wednesday, let me know. No pressure, seriously.'

‘Thanks. I'll see what Mum and Dad want to do.'

She stood and waved as he backed out and left the car park area. As she made her way towards her office, she began wondering if she was pleased or disappointed he hadn't wanted to kiss her. As she put her key in the lock, she decided she was relieved. Paul was becoming a good friend. It would be a shame if it became awkward between them.

Chapter Twenty-six

Damien made his way quickly through the supermarket on his way back from the latest hostel visit. The last thing he'd felt like doing was heading into town in the middle of the day, but he'd had to visit with the oldies on the hill. It was only the second time he'd left the property since finding the dead pups. If he left, he feared what he would find when he returned. The rational part of him would have said he'd come and gone for weeks before that incident and all had been well, that it was just one of those things. But that part of him was functioning well below full power. Worse, he was starting to wonder if it was a sign that his venture, his life, was doomed. But he couldn't bring himself to let them down, no matter how shit he was feeling, no matter how much he wanted to be alone with his dark shadow. And he knew he had to keep moving, trying to outrun the black cloud threatening to completely suck him in.

He'd toyed with not washing the dogs, but one whiff and he'd realised they were putrid after being in the yards. And there was a thick layer of sheep shit stuck in between the pads of their paws. And while they'd given no trouble, washing them took longer than usual. Everything Damien did at the moment felt like he was wading through molasses. What should be quick and easy was slow and hard. And he was vacant in the head. He regularly found himself feeling bewildered and wondering what he was meant to be doing – it was almost like he was losing chunks of time. Over and over he told himself to get his shit together, get with the program, but it didn't seem to help. He felt worse than useless. Tears would appear without warning.

And then he got angry with his mum – this was all her fault. Why the fuck couldn't she have left everything alone? And why couldn't she have married someone who wasn't a complete loser?
And why, Dad, did you bloody well have to die?
He wished he could roll back time to a couple of weeks ago when he had life sussed and it all seemed so doable.
For fuck's sake, get a grip, Damo!

It was a relief that the supermarket was unusually quiet and he was finished in quick time without seeing anyone he was expected to offer more than a simple nod and grunt of hello to.

The girl on the checkout was a different matter.

‘Hey, you take all animals out there at your rescue farm, don't you?'

‘Yes, I do.'

‘And you don't kill them, do you?'

‘No, definitely not – unless they're in pain or distressed and their suffering can't be eased any other way.'

‘Cool. Thanks. That'll be sixty-five dollars and fifty-five cents.'

‘On cheque, thanks,' Damien said, handing over his card.

As he drove out of town, Damien felt a little guilty for not stopping in to see his auntie Ethel, but he was keen to retreat back into his own world.

He approached his gate and the depository with unease. He was terrified of what he might find today, but also keen to see a sign – a sort of look into the future that might calm his fear. He'd take anything he could get right now, he couldn't think or make decisions for himself. He almost cried with relief to see it empty.

With a mug of coffee on the table in front of him, Damien went through the mail – all bills and bank statements, except one. He pulled out the folded piece of paper and read. He had to go through it twice before it sank into his doughy head: his application for tax-deductible donation status had come through. With this news he could start his serious fundraising. While a lot of local people had contributed to get him started, he knew that others would be more inclined to be generous with this added incentive. His mum, for one, only ever made donations she could get a tax deduction for as well.

He knew he should be ecstatic, but he just felt glum, disinterested, and unable to muster any enthusiasm. He should be leaping up and down, phoning Auntie Ethel and Philip Havelock and announcing the reaching of this milestone, and announcing it on Facebook and upgrading his website. Yet he just sat there feeling numb. He needed to think things through, get a few things straight in his mind, but his brain refused to work. It was as if it had turned into a tangle of spaghetti and he couldn't find an end to grasp to undo the knots. He stared at his mug, not quite able to muster the energy to deal with drinking the cooling liquid either.

Damien's phone rang. The screen read:
Lucy
.

‘Hello, Damien speaking,' he said, despite knowing who was calling.

‘Hi.'

‘What's up?'

‘God, I'm so sorry to hear what Mum did to Jacqueline. Even for Mum that's insane. Is it true Jacqueline's been hauled up before the medical board?'

‘Not quite. She's received a please explain letter. Did Auntie Ethel phone you?'

‘No. Mum did – said you're a bit upset with her.'

‘That's the understatement of the century. Glad she's your problem for the next few weeks, I can't even look at her.'

‘Sorry, what?'

‘I'm so fucking furious at her, Lucy, I want to murder her! And I'd be pretty justified, I'd say.'

‘Yeah. But what do you mean she's my problem for the next few weeks?'

‘There in London,' he said.

‘What, she's turning up here?!'

‘Er, yeah.'
Der
.

‘I don't know anything about it.'

‘What? I took her to the plane. She should be there by now.'

‘She's just split with Geoff – thank God – but as if he'd be authorising her to spend a stack of money on an overseas trip.'

‘Hmm. Good point. But she's got money of her own.'
And access to the farm accounts.
Damien felt his blood run cold.
Shit! Would she?
He pulled himself together. They were operating on an overdraft and the insurance money wasn't in yet. She couldn't do much damage. And she wouldn't do that to him. But he didn't think she'd dob in the woman he loved, either, but she had.

‘Hey, you don't think she's cleared out their bank account and skipped town, do you?' Lucy said.

‘Nothing he wouldn't deserve, but I doubt it.'

‘Yep, he's a creep all right.'

‘That's a bit strong. He's an idiot, and I don't like the bloke, never have, but …'

‘Well, clearly you didn't wake up from a snooze on the couch one day to find him leaning over you and reaching for a breast like he was going to cop a feel.'

‘Surely not. You must have misunderstood …'

‘God, thanks a lot. You sound like Mum. Seriously, Damien, take it from me, he's a creep. Jesus, I can't believe you didn't notice all the lewd comments, the sexual innuendo.'

‘Did you tell Mum?'

‘Yes, and well before she married him.'

‘And?'

‘Laughed in my face. Told me he was just messing with me, winding me up. Why do you think I live so far away and rarely visit, and why I have so little time for my mother? She's not exactly supportive.'

‘God, you should have told me.'

‘And you'd have done what? Come on, Damien, you would have sided with Mum – you're as thick as thieves. You're the favourite, everyone knows that.'

‘I would have knocked his bloody block off.' Damien liked to think he would have defended his sister, but Lucy was right: until very recently he had been well and truly under his mother's thumb, thanks to depending on her for his livelihood, the roof over his head. Not to mention needing to keep the farm running for her and his dead dad, which he now knew was all ridiculous, of course.