Standing Strong (32 page)

As she soaped herself, Jacqueline's frustration at her situation returned, namely feeling so damned helpless, since her fate rested in the hands of others. She wasn't one for sitting around waiting for things to happen. Well, she didn't want to be one of those people, but she was beginning to see she was a lot less independent and resourceful than she'd hoped. Was that one of the reasons she'd fallen for Damien? Farmers were so capable. Didn't the whole world know they could fix anything with the twine from hay bales and a roll of wire? Or was it gaffer tape? She knew the belief was tongue in cheek, but she'd been very impressed with how Damien nutted things out. And clearly his father before him had been the same. And that day moving the sheep during the fire – he'd been so calm, so capable. That's what you needed in a life partner: someone calm, capable, dependable. Pity she'd stuffed it all up, she thought, rubbing shampoo through her hair, shocked as tears sprang into her eyes.

Chapter Thirty-one

Damien was awoken by a thundering sound all around him, Squish huddled up close and trying to get even closer. He cocked an ear and concentrated. And then he laughed.

‘Rain, Squish. It's raining.' Damien loved the sound of rain on a tin roof, but this was an entirely different sound – all around him the aluminium and plastic roared. It was like a freight train rumbling through. He couldn't detect pinging, so didn't think it was hailing.

He lay back down with his hands behind his head. God, it was a glorious sound when you didn't need to be out in it. Damien did a quick inventory as he always did when it rained – it was so ingrained. The ute wasn't undercover because there was no longer any cover for it. Its windows were definitely shut because it had been windy and he hadn't wanted any more fine black dust in there than there already was. Same with the caravan and its windows. The weather had been warmer than average for early autumn so he'd been using the air-conditioner most of the time. There were no field bins needing him to rush out and shut lids on, no tarps needing to be pulled over open truck bins. All the animals were shut up safely.

The horses.
There hadn't been any thunder or cracks of lightning, so they should be fine, shouldn't they? He hoped so, he wasn't going out to check. He hoped Sam had found some shelter. He had considered locking the bird safely in a run, but wasn't prepared to put their new friendship at risk by trying to manhandle the creature. Damien was prepared to admit he hadn't completely conquered his fear of emus – that was a work in progress.

Hopefully the rain wouldn't hold up the fencing crew that was due to arrive today. Damien had asked the owner if he needed anything from him and he'd gruffly been told no, they were completely self-sufficient. He was secretly a little excited about being able to sit back and watch someone else do all the work. He wondered if he'd feel guilty when he saw them down in the paddock hard at it. And then he reminded himself they were being paid well – very well – so, no, he wouldn't be letting himself feel guilty. God, how good would it be to have nice straight, upright shiny fences and new posts? Some of the old fences had patches on patches. He'd never managed to keep up with the replacement schedule, nor had his father before him. Damien realised with a pang that he might not be here to enjoy the farm's new fencing. He sighed deeply.

He had to believe everything would work out okay in the end and that whatever shape okay took, he'd be fine and would adapt if need be. He had to keep telling himself that over and over, otherwise he'd completely fall in a heap and not be able to drag himself back up.

He'd spent most of the previous day in Mitre 10 looking at taps, toilets and basins with the help of Ethel and Doris, who seemed very pleased to be relieved from her counter duties to help a customer for a bit. He couldn't believe how long it had taken. He'd thought taps were taps and toilets, toilets. He'd run out of patience when they'd got to looking at tiles, and given up before making a choice. He thought they'd take the longest time to choose, but boy had he been wrong: everything had seemed to take forever. He'd come away happy with his other choices, which he'd made with Jacqueline becoming lady of the house in the back of his mind. So he hadn't chosen the cheapest beige taps, but the nice chrome ones – twice the price, but they looked a lot better.
Listen to you, Damo, you're sounding like you've almost got a bit of class
. Then he and Ethel had gone over to Hope Springs where the hardware store prided themselves on their range of lighting. Damien knew most places now had the little round lights that sat flush with the ceilings. He quite liked that idea, and being a little modern. Soon he'd have to venture down to Port Lincoln or up to Whyalla to choose carpet. He was not at all looking forward to that. He knew everyone was ripping up carpets and exposing floorboards or putting in that floating floor stuff that sounded hollow and plastic when you walked on it, and carpet was harder to keep clean and probably not hygienic when you had pets, but when he took his boots off in the laundry each day, he wanted his weary feet to walk on something soft. He hoped Jacqueline would agree. If only he could send her a text and check. But he'd dumped her.

Damien noted the change in sound on the roof above him. The rain was hammering even heavier. Squish squeezed up closer, trying to hide.

‘It's okay. Just rain,' he said, rolling over and rubbing the belly the dog promptly presented for a scratch.

His alarm went off. He thought the kittens would probably be mewing by now. Perhaps he couldn't hear them over the din. He dragged himself out of bed. He was still pretty tired, which he knew wasn't helping his general disposition, and he'd got used to feeling heavy and a bit groggy all the time, not that he liked it. But you did what you did. Thankfully the time between feeds was gradually lengthening and he was getting a bit more sleep. And his body also seemed to be learning to take what it could when it could. These days he could often drop off as soon as he closed his eyes, whereas for years he'd spent hours tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. It helped that he didn't have a massive, never-ending to-do list plaguing him. Everything on his list felt doable – no doubt only because it hadn't had long enough to grow into overwhelming territory.

Damien got dressed, got the kittens organised, put the TV on, and made himself a coffee. He couldn't even think of what he felt like for breakfast. He flicked between the two main morning shows and waited out the rain. He wondered if there was enough to wash away all the soot and black crap. Knowing his luck lately, it would just make it worse.

When the rain had stopped he headed out to check that everything was okay. As he opened the door he got a fright, finding Sam the emu sitting waiting below the steps. The bird eased himself onto his long legs and shook his feathers out. Squish bounded out and after encountering a puddle stood with one wet foot in the air, looking up at Damien with a stricken expression.

‘What, don't you want to get your paws muddy, oh precious one?' he said and picked up the little dog. Probably best not to track it into the van anyway. Damien, followed by Sam, went over and let Jemima and Bob and Cara out. The two big dogs roared off like lunatics, splashing through puddles as they played their usual game of chase. Damien marvelled at how much more cheerful and alive he felt just from having the dampness and fresh smell of rain around him. It made his whole soul feel lighter. He felt himself smiling as he walked, taking in and letting out deep breaths.

He headed over to the house, followed by his menagerie. Half the roof had been put on, not that it helped: there was still only timber framing where walls would be, and rain rarely fell straight down around here; there were some pools of water lying on the concrete slab. He hoped it wouldn't do any damage to the building, but couldn't worry about it. He was sure half-built constructions got caught in the rain all the time and survived just fine. He had to hope his would too.

A vehicle was approaching and he looked up, standing where he was until it arrived. It was the fencing team.

‘Morning,' said Dave, and extended a hand through the open window for Damien to shake.

‘Morning,' he said, and nodded to the other two guys, whose names he didn't know. This needing to employ a fencing crew was all new to him.

‘Right for us to start then?'

‘No worries. I wasn't sure if I'd see you, what with the rain.'

‘Bit of rain won't hurt. We're keen to get started.'

‘Fair enough. Let me know if you need anything from me.'

‘Thanks, but we shouldn't do. It's easy enough just replacing what was already there. Unless you've changed your mind about anything.'

‘Nah, all good. Thanks very much.'

‘No worries.'

As they drove off, Damien noticed builder Stan's vehicle coming in.
It's all go here this morning. And even better, nothing needing my involvement.

‘G'day.' He was about to add, ‘Nice bit of rain,' out of habit, but stopped himself in time. Farmers usually rejoiced at rain, but no doubt builders hated the stuff because it held them up.

‘Howdy,' Stan said. He eyed Sam warily and seemed reluctant to get out of his vehicle with the bird standing there.

‘Don't worry, he's friendly. Just very curious. Sam, off you go,' he said firmly, and gave the bird a gentle shove. He held his breath to see what would happen. Sam seemed to give a harrumph of distaste before striding away. Damien nearly laughed. He'd never have believed it if someone had told him how expressive emus were. They were actually quite cute when you got to know them up close and personal – well, Sam certainly was.

Stan got out and they shook hands. ‘How's it looking?' he asked as he gave Squish's ear a scratch.

‘Fine, but I didn't go in – didn't want to walk all this shit in,' Damien said, lifting his boot – a mass of black soot clung to his tread.

‘Good idea. It'll make a real mess. Don't worry, though, I've brought out some matting to put down. Now I'm really going to need a decision on the colour for the walls before the end of the day if you definitely still want to go with the stuff that comes already painted.'

‘Righto.' Damien had been in a quandary about it for days. He didn't like the pressure of having to choose the colour for the outside of the house – a mistake there was around forever for all to see. Sure, it could probably be painted over if he didn't like it when it was up, but going pre-painted was more expensive, so it would be a waste and Tina would go ballistic if he wasted money. Though she'd also go ballistic if he got the colour wrong too. He wished he'd thought to go over it with Ethel, or even Eileen and Philip when they'd visited. But with so much plaguing him, he hadn't given it a thought.

‘Here's another brochure,' Stan said, reaching into his vehicle. ‘I rang them yesterday. The colours I've circled are what they have in stock and enough to do your place. Just a matter of putting it on a truck for overnight delivery. The other colours are available, but it could mean holding us up for a week or so.' It was clear to Damien that this is not what Stan would want.

‘Okay, thanks,' he said, accepting the brochure. He liked the idea of having the choices whittled down. Though they were all nice enough – none of them were too in your face – he was having trouble deciding if he wanted to go with the greenish-grey that would blend in when more trees were planted or the buttery yellow that would stand out but which he quite liked. He also quite liked the pale grey. He had got as far as deciding he didn't want plain cream – it was too much like what he'd had before.

‘Anyway, by five,' Stan said.

‘Will do.'

‘Well, I'd better get on.'

‘Do you need a hand?'

‘Nah, thanks, she's right.'

‘Righto, I'll leave you to it.' Damien raised his hand in farewell and headed back towards the van. It felt weird to not lend a hand, especially when the guy was nearly old enough to be his father.

Damien tossed the brochure onto the table in the van on his way past before heading over to feed the horses. He hoped they were okay out in the weather. At least it wasn't too cold. He was actually starting to get a little warm under his jumper.

‘Good morning,' he said, and rubbed the faces hanging over the fence. He tipped out the water that had accumulated in the feed bins and tossed in a biscuit of hay with a few pellets on top for a treat. Damien stood watching the horses eat, unable to tear himself away.

*

Damien was cuddling the kittens while trying to make a decision regarding the colour of his house when there was a friendly
toot toot
of a car horn. He popped the kittens back in the box and got up and joined Squish, who was whining at the door, already on the case, tail wagging so furiously his whole body shook. He smiled as he watched Squish launch himself off the steps and towards where Auntie Ethel stood beside her car a little way away. She raised her hand in greeting. That was odd – she usually bowled up to the door, gave a loud rap and entered. Damien followed suit and, with a puzzled frown, strode over.

‘What's going on?' he asked as he gave her a quick hug. Ethel, looking a little concerned, nodded towards the house by way of an answer. Damien followed her gaze. There was someone who was not Stan making their way through the building, coming in and out of view as they passed behind the timber frame.

‘She needed to see it,' Ethel said.

‘Right. Fair enough.' Damien nodded thoughtfully. The big question was what the bloody hell his sister was doing here when just a couple of days ago she'd been in London. And more to the point, had made no mention of coming back. It wasn't Christmas and as far as he knew there were no family weddings, christenings, funerals or significant birthdays or other milestones being celebrated. Though it was entirely possible he'd forgotten something.