Standing Strong (28 page)

He got up wearily, struggling to ease himself onto his feet. Squish was on the floor, tail wagging, ready to be the doorman. Damien opened the door slowly. A small, slim girl with red eyes and a tear-stained face stood before him. She'd obviously been crying, for hours by the looks of her. Damien felt his heart lurch slightly. He thought there was something familiar about her, but perhaps it was just the fact her wan expression was one he'd seen in the mirror before and would again, if he cared to look. She twisted her hands in empty belt loops.

‘Hello. Can I help you?' Damien asked.

‘Um. You said you take all sorts of animals and don't kill them?'

It was more a question than a statement. Damien experienced a brief moment of clarity: the girl from the supermarket. She
was
familiar, though he didn't know for the life of him which local family she belonged to.

‘We sure do, and we certainly don't,' Damien said, fighting to sound professional. ‘Do you have an animal you want to surrender?'

‘No. Yes. Well …'

Damien stood watching and feeling very awkward as tears ran down her face. She looked about twelve, but couldn't be. There was no one with her. He glanced over her shoulder to double-check if someone was waiting in the ute with horse float attached. She was alone. Should he put his arm around her? No. He was meant to be standing there as a business person, providing a professional service. Anyway, he had enough problems of his own, enough sadness of his own. He didn't need anyone else dragging him down. And if anyone wrapped their arms around him he might never let go. He was seriously running the risk of dissolving himself.

‘I'm sorry,' she finally snuffled, dragging a sleeve across her face. ‘I need to go. Where shall I put them?'

‘What do you have?'

‘Two horses. And an, um, emu.'

Damien felt a shiver creep down his spine. He hated emus – had ever since being pecked at Auntie Ethel's farm as a kid. Shit. He tried to pull himself together. The emu was not his only worry. Two horses? He hadn't had a thing to do with horses for years. Didn't want to admit it, but their size bothered him.
Businesslike, Damo, get a grip
. He couldn't leave this poor girl standing there sobbing. He had to at least say something.

‘Would you like to come in? Talk about it?'

‘I don't want to do it, but I have to. But they're my best friends,' the girl wailed.

‘Come inside,' he said, holding the door open and stepping aside. He glanced back at the silent horse float as he closed the door. Hopefully the animals inside were okay to stay put for a bit.

He turned to get the girl a glass of water and when he turned back she was seated, patting Squish, who had his head in her lap. Damien felt a surge of gratitude to the dog for being his lifesaver.

‘Thanks,' the girl said, accepting the glass and the box of tissues he'd taken from the bench.

‘So, tell me what's going on.' The fact he almost sounded like Jacqueline wasn't lost on Damien. In different circumstances it would have made him chuckle, but the thought just made him feel bluer. If only she were here, doing this, with him. What did he know about dealing with a sad young girl who did not want to give her horses and emu up but apparently had to? His enterprise was animals, not people, though a quiet voice in the far depths of his mind told him he was dealing with people at the old folks' home every Wednesday. And that if it weren't for people, the animals wouldn't be needing the likes of him.

‘I have to give them up,' the girl croaked. ‘I don't want to, but I don't have a choice.'

‘Look. Let's just go back a bit. Start at the start. I'm Damien. And that's Squish,' he said, nodding and trying to offer a warm smile. But he was really too tired to manage warm and what he actually offered was probably more along the lines of tight.

‘I know who you are. I'm Alice. I'm sorry about all this, but I just thought I'd drop them off.' A new round of tears began.

‘I don't think you're in much of a state to drive,' Damien said kindly. ‘It's not safe.'

‘I know.'

‘So what's going on? Are you sure you want to surrender them? I mean, are you sure you have to? Is there really no other option?'

Alice shook her head and gulped back tears.

‘Do you want to tell me the whole story? Maybe there's another way. Or maybe it might just help to tell someone.'

‘You're being so kind,' Alice said. ‘I feel terrible.'

‘Of course you do. It's a tough decision.'

‘Not only that. You don't know who I am, do you?'

‘No. Should I?' Damien frowned. ‘You work in the supermarket. You served me earlier, right? Have we met before that?' Damien racked his brain and came up empty, which wasn't surprising. He couldn't think straight about anything these days. The alarm on his phone rang in the silence. ‘Sorry, that's me. Next feed is due,' he said, getting up and retrieving the box of kittens from the end of his bed and putting it on the table. When he opened the box to find four pairs of bright blue eyes staring up at him, he thought his heart might melt. They'd become quite active of late, scratching about, trying to escape. But now they were a picture of cuteness, all sitting there, still and quiet.

‘Oh, aren't they gorgeous. Can I pat them?'

‘Yep. They'd love a cuddle while I get their feeds organised.' Damien prepared the bottles with formula and then turned around and watched while the kettle boiled. Alice's tears had stopped, the tension in her features had eased, and she had a smile on her face as she held the four tiny bundles of fur to her chest, watched on closely by Squish. Damien felt himself choke up. He was overtired. This was what it was about. If only all the troubles in the world could be solved so easily. Perhaps they could – look what Squish had done for him. If only more humans could put their own problems and issues aside to appreciate and take care of those who couldn't take care of themselves.

Damien got a flashback to a time his parents had discussed selling one of Lucy's horses and her staunch vow to never speak to them again if they did. He remembered it had been his father pleading with his mother to keep the horse. It hadn't been successful enough at the recent show; that's what horses had been about for Tina – competition, not fun. It really was no wonder Lucy had no interest in horses these days. The horse had stayed and eventually passed away in the paddock from old age, if he remembered correctly.

The kettle burbled and then clicked off. He finished the bottles and tested their temperature against his top lip, like Auntie Ethel had taught him. It was just a habit, really, because he had it all down to a fine art.

‘So, you were about to tell me the whole story when these little guys rudely interrupted,' he said softly when she'd handed the kittens back and they were in their box and busy with their bottles.

Alice took a deep breath. Damien was pleased to see she was calmer and seemed to have run out of tears. She stroked Squish, who was back in her lap.

‘Oh, and where am I meant to know you from, other than the supermarket yesterday?'

‘You don't know me and I doubt you'll want to, but I know you.'

‘Sorry?' Damien blinked and frowned. ‘What?'

‘My mum is sleeping with your stepdad. Well, she was.'

‘Please don't call him that. He's just the dickhead my mother married. Nothing to do with me,' Damien found himself saying.

‘Sorry. I shouldn't be here. You have every right to not want to help. But …'

‘Now hang on. Firstly, I'm sure you have about as much chance of telling your mother how to behave as I do – Buckley's. They are their own people. And if Geoff couldn't keep it in his pants, well … Sorry, that's a bit rude of me.'

Alice waved his embarrassment and apology aside.

‘Look, what I'm saying is that we have no control over what other people do, we just have to manage the fallout as best we can.' Again Damien was reminded of Jacqueline. They weren't her words, he didn't think, but it was along the lines of what she'd advise. Well, he thought so. God, how he ached for her, even just to hear her kind, practical advice. ‘What I want to know is why you have to give up your horses when you clearly don't want to.'

‘Geoff's dumped my mum, her name's mud in town, and now we've both lost our jobs. I think we'll have to move back to the city. I can't afford to keep the horses.'

The situation struck Damien as odd yet so typical of the way things worked out here. It was all well and fine for the good people of the district to turn a blind eye to a straying husband, but now that he's been found out by his wife they pull rank and punish the one who – they think – led him astray. Of course they would be siding with Tina, she was a landowner. Geoff was a retired shearer and had little to no standing. Damien felt his blood boil at the fact that poor Alice was here in front of him, facing losing her horses all because of his mother and the dickhead she'd chosen to marry.

‘Right,' Damien said, trying to both simmer down and buy time while he sorted through the details. He longed to be helpful. God knew, Alice was relying on him. He drummed on the table with his fingertips.

‘It's all my fault,' Alice said, gathering herself. ‘If I'd just kept my mouth shut … I should get going. Do you have yards I can put them?' Damien noticed her chin was wobbling again and her eyes brimming.

Damien blinked. ‘Hang on, what did you say? What do you mean, kept your mouth shut? About what?' Damien had the awful feeling he was about to hear something he didn't want to hear. ‘What, exactly, is all your fault?'

‘Everything.' Alice brought her hands to her face just as a new flood of tears began.

Damien waited her out. He didn't really have much choice – there was nothing he could say.

‘If I'd just kept my mouth shut, kept out of his way,' she muttered through the sobs.

‘Did Geoff do something to you, Alice?' he asked. He felt as if he had both hands over his eyes and his ears. He didn't want to know, but he felt he needed to, and Alice probably needed him to. He'd failed Lucy – back then and again yesterday. He'd apologise to his sister, beg for forgiveness, when he got the chance. Not that he deserved it. Remembering Lucy telling him their mother had laughed at her allegation made his blood boil all over again. God, he wanted to throttle Tina. It was damned lucky for her she was over six hundred kilometres away. If she'd taken Lucy seriously, then Alice might not be sitting here now. Somehow he needed to help her to make some sort of amends. And listening to her was a start. Again he was reminded of Jacqueline – God, he wished she'd get out of his head – and how much talking to her had helped him through a very, very dark period. His memory flickered to the gun and the incident in the shed. He shuddered and banished the image.

‘I'm sorry, you've probably got heaps to do. I should be going,' Alice said, making to get up again.

Damien knew she was torn – felt the need to leave and not burden anyone, but the desperation to be unburdened. A problem shared is a problem halved; it was true, as he knew only too well. Had Alice's mother laughed at her too?

‘Just tell me where to …'

‘I've got nothing on. And I'm not letting you drive anywhere when you're so upset.'
God, I sound about sixty
. ‘Do you want me to call your mum, or something?' he added helplessly.

Alice shook her head.

‘I need a coffee. Do you want one? Or perhaps tea or Milo, or hot chocolate. Have you eaten, do you want some toast?'

‘Coffee would be great, thanks. Just white with one. But I don't want to …'

‘I wouldn't mind the company, to be honest. You'd be doing me a favour. My mother has got me into a pickle of my own, actually.' Damien was a little shocked at his candour. ‘It seems our pickles are in the same jar.' He couldn't help smiling wanly, and was pleased to see Alice do the same, rolling her eyes at his attempt at humour.

Damien felt as if Alice was his little sister – he wanted to help her. Part of it, he thought, was that he and his real sister had drifted so far apart. He still cared about Lucy, of course he did, and would do anything for her. Trouble was, he knew nothing about her now she was in London. What did they have in common other than blood and DNA? Nothing; he was just a farmer who lived out in the sticks, planting a crop and harvesting it year after year, dealing with sheep, and always had been. And Lucy was a sophisticated city girl who, he assumed, ate out at fancy restaurants, shopped, and worked in some high-rise office doing something glamorous – he wasn't exactly sure. He realised with a shock that he'd never shown much interest in her life. He didn't even know what she actually did for a crust, or even if she currently had a boyfriend – a few had come and gone over the years. Their occasional phone calls had all been about the farm. She'd ask how the season was progressing and, bang, he was off and running. It was a subject he could talk about. Damien didn't do deep and meaningful, especially with his sister. Though, really, asking what she did for a living and what that entailed and if she enjoyed it was hardly deep and meaningful. He tried to shake the guilt aside.

‘Did you go to the police about Geoff?' Damien blurted. God, he really wasn't any good at this sort of thing. Where was Jacqueline when he needed her? Should he just get Alice to empty the float and send her on her way with a recommendation to book in to see Jacqueline? Probably, but a part of him wanted to know the details, if she wanted to tell them. Not wanted to,
needed
to. It was part of his penance for being so clueless, so dismissive when it came to his sister and her interactions with Geoff. Oh, of course he'd seen things. He was now getting very vivid images: the lewd comments, in the sleazy tone, about what Lucy was wearing; Geoff's gaze raking up and down her figure while he licked his lips. Damien's stomach turned and he almost gasped when the scene of the last Christmas Lucy had been home surfaced. She was taking two large platters of food to the table. Geoff had leapt up to unburden her – ever the gentleman – but now Damien clearly saw in his mind's eye Geoff's hand deliberately brushing Lucy's breasts.
Jesus. How could I have been so disloyal?