Chapter 30

Last day of being a teenager but I wondered whether anyone really grows up. The politicians I had observed played their silly playground games. The army was really a gang of bullies and no matter my age I would always be a child in my parents’ eyes especially my mother’s. Tomorrow it would be twenty years since she grunted and groaned and shoved me out of a comfortable place into the less than pleasant world I lived. I didn’t recognise the sacrifice she had made, that Dad had made as well and I probably didn’t acknowledge that there was a world that didn’t revolve around me. It was not until I was much older and far too late that these things came into being.

It was difficult for Dad and I to get together alone between Christmas and New Year. But we finally did as Mum dragged Tom off to help her set up for my twentieth birthday the next day. Dad suggested that we check up on the sheep that he was running down in the paddock furthest away from the house. We took the bikes and a lunch that Mum had packed for us. Tom begged to go but he was Mum’s prisoner and slave for the day and the chains that bound him were the promise that Eloise could come to my twentieth party. It was an invidious and evil choice set by Mum. I had to laugh because it was no choice at all. She had him well worked out. His appeal to Dad was met with a shrug of shoulders. Tom was smart enough not to mention the beer fridge to try to get Dad’s support, because that would have been counterproductive and earned the wrath of Dad.

We headed out after breakfast and rode slowly. There wasn’t a spring in Dad’s step as before, nor the joy of acceleration in Dad’s riding. It was as if that was something in the past. I didn’t recognise it fully then, but something was amiss. The back paddock was miles and miles away. Our bikes were laden down with fresh water, food and a two-way radio in case something went wrong so we travelled at a very sedate pace for that reason so I thought. Dad was pretty silent as we rode. The sound of the engines prevented a whole lot of conversation anyway, but Dad seemed quite pensive anyway.

We checked the fence line or at least a third of it before stopping near a small copse of straggly gums near an artesian bore. Sheep were gathered in the shade and some begrudgingly moved aside to make way for us as we pulled out our lunch. Dad broke the silence and pointed towards the sheep.

“May be the last time you see this lot,” he said at last.

I wondered what he was getting at. Was he expecting me not to be coming home? Yes, when my National Service was up, I had a Uni course to go to but Croydon was my home and I figured that I would always come back here. I, as usual had misread things.

“Thinking about swapping completely over to cattle. Not getting good prices at the moment for wool by the time you take out shearing costs and the money being ripped off by the middlemen when it goes for sale. Mutton prices don’t help either. I’m not as young as I used to be and the amount of work involved in looking after these bitches ain’t worth it. We’re losing lambs to feral dogs and dingoes who are dining out on the slim profits we might actually make.” He paused and let out a sad sorrowful sigh. “Haven’t told your mum yet. Don’t know how to tell her. She grew up on a sheep station. You should see her at lambing time. I swear she thinks that they are all her own babies. You got any idea how I should talk to her about this?”

I was completely at a loss. This was my Dad; the man that I thought knew everything, had done everything and had taught me so much. He was asking me for help. Or was he just thinking out loud. I realised it wasn’t the latter because he was looking at me expectantly hoping I had something as an answer. I couldn’t let him down, so after a few minutes I plunged headlong in.

“So, if you swap to cattle, what do you think Mum will do? She won’t pack her bags and do a runner. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. If you up and sold the farm she may be disappointed but she’d go anywhere with you. She may not use logic in what she says and does….” Dad grinned when I said that, “But she does understand it. Tell her the reasons why. Say that cattle are going to be less of a hassle, are more financially viable and then ask her opinion. She will want to have her say and there is nothing that you can do to stop her having her say anyway, so invite her in on the decision making. You know Mum better than anyone. She is pushy, but in the end she’ll defer to what you think is best. A smart move might be getting her to help with the decision and take her to a cattle sale. She will see the prices that cattle are bringing and it wouldn’t hurt for her to see some poddy calves as well close up.”

He mulled that over for a while and said, “You are a helluva lot smarter than you look.”

“I get my looks from you and my brains from Mum,” I quipped straight back at him, “Now tell me what the real reason is you are going to swap.” I stared straight into his eyes and held my gaze until he was the one to look away.

“I told you. It is money and economics. Now have you finished your lunch?”

“Dad, the one thing I know about cattle farming is there’s plenty of bullshit. That’s what you are offering me right now. What the fuck’s going on?”

He was a bit taken aback more by my demanding to know why I wasn’t being told the whole truth, rather than my swearing. I saw his fists clench and then suddenly relax. His shoulders, once tense, slumped. Again he sighed.

“About six months ago, after we got back from seeing you graduate. I had a fainting spell in the shed. I never told your mum. So, when she was carting Tom over to Karumba, I took the opportunity to talk to a doctor.”

This stunned me as Dad never saw a doctor. ‘The body heals itself’ was his mantra. Before I left for National Service he looked as physically as fit as I always remembered him to be. Now I looked more carefully and there was a hollowness in his eyes and his slim frame looked gaunt.

“And?” I prompted.

“Well, he took my blood pressure and some blood to boot…….”

There was a huge pause as if he was unsure whether he wanted to continue at all. But having come so far, I was not going to let him stop now.

“You are not leaving it like that. You can’t.”

“I have a heart condition and there is a chance at some point of me having a stroke unless I do something radically different. Mum must never know. Promise me or she’ll have me confined to bed and make me take all her home-grown remedies. The doctor said I just need to back my workload off, walk a lot more and avoid certain foods. I can do the first two but Mum, well, you know what she’s like. She’d take offence if I knocked back what she served up or she’d go completely the other way and I’d be eating raw vegetables for the rest of my life. If that happened, I’d be praying for a short life.”

Bloody hell I thought. Two adults can’t have an adult conversation for fear of offending each other. I hoped when I got married, I’d never fall into that trap. No secrets. No lies. But that was something for the future if it happened at all. Right now, Dad needed some help and I felt so honoured that he had confided, even if a bit unwillingly, in me. I thought long and hard.

“Leave it with me. Mum doesn’t need to know until you are ready to tell her; nor does Tom yet. I will suggest at dinner tonight we have a round table conference as a family. Let me lead it. I’ve wanted to tell both you and Mum what my future plans were going to be anyway and it’s best to do it tonight because people are going to ask at my party tomorrow anyway.”

I could see Dad about to protest but the strength seemed to have gone out of him and I got a look of thanks instead.

“It’ll cost you a couple of beers when we get back though. You are still able to drink those aren’t you.”

“Not as many as I’d like, son. Not as many as I’d like.”

We finished our lunch and I made to get back on my bike but instead Dad gathered some firewood and lit a small fire. He grabbed a billy from the knapsack on his bike and soon had water boiling.

Finally, when we were sipping the lovely hot brown liquid he said, “You’re helping me with my problem so it’s only fair that I start helping you with yours. I’ve been thinking about this Colonel Atkinson………….”

We talked for a couple of hours and then, making sure the fire was smothered, headed back home leaving the rest of the fence unchecked. The fences would have to be altered anyway for cattle. We again rode in silence. I had no idea what Dad was thinking. I, on the other hand, was rehearsing what I was going to say that night. By the time we got back and had a beer I had it pretty much worked out. As I chewed on a Mintie, I said to Dad, “Job’s right. Got it sorted.”