Nina could hardly believe it. The document on the table before her read: Contract for Sale of Land. Vendor: Eva Margaret Langley. Purchaser: Nina Rose Moore. A dream come true. So was the purchase price – a steal. Well, not a steal exactly, but low enough to make a big difference when it came to the bank and getting a loan. And high enough, according to Eva, to prevent James from challenging the sale. ‘My finance isn’t guaranteed,’ said Nina. ‘Just so you know.’
‘For pity’s sake,’ said Eva. ‘Just sign it. Or do you want me to change my mind?’
‘No. No, of course not.’ Nina’s hand shook a little. She tried to steady it, overthinking the whole thing. In the end she signed her name so deliberately and self-consciously that it barely resembled her signature at all.
Eva’s nurse stepped forward to witness the contract. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ she said, looking uncertain.
‘Yes, Vera. Very sure.’ In another moment it was done. ‘Congratulations, my dear.’ Eva’s voice broke a fraction. Nina wrapped her in a hug, knowing how hard this decision had been, how final it really was. When she let go, Eva seemed herself again, her smile warm, her voice encouraging. ‘It’s a long settlement, one hundred and twenty days. I don’t imagine you’ll have any difficulty with the bank, not with your place going so well.’
‘I’ve bought Red Gums on vendor terms,’ said Nina. ‘Will that matter?’
‘Stop inventing problems.’ Eva waved a hand. ‘I’ve already had a word to my bank manager, who just happens to be Trevor Bond, your bank manager as well. He’s approved your new business plan apparently. You’re good for the money, Nina. The bank gets its collateral and you, God bless you, get Billabong Bend.’
Nina stared at the signed and witnessed contract, the official seal on her longstanding love affair with the marshlands. She wanted to kiss it. She wanted to dance around the room with it, and shout the good news all over the riverlands. Me and Billabong, we’re a team now. We belong to each other.
A kaleidoscope of plans cascaded through her brain. She’d clear out the ferals, and she didn’t just mean the poachers. She’d get rid of the pigs and goats, the foxes and rabbits and cats. She might ask Max along on their shooting trips, as a gesture of reconciliation between their families, and also because he was a bloody good shot. She’d run cattle on the outer floodplains, fence off the woodlands and overflows, improve the carrying capacity and environment at the same time.
‘First thing – a biodiversity survey,’ said Nina. ‘I’ll make maps, proper survey maps. You can help me, Eva. And then there’s the house. Can’t afford to fix it up yet, of course, but down the line . . .’ Images came to her of the homestead restored to former glory, of Eva’s face when she saw it. Nina’s heart hammered hard in her chest with the sheer, limitless possibilities.
When she dragged herself back to reality, Eva was studying her with a certain, sad resignation that flattened Nina’s mood. She turned around, showing off the fawn suit that she’d borrowed from Kate. ‘What do you think?’
‘Very smart, dear, and businesslike.’
Nina kissed Eva’s cheek, restless to be gone. ‘I’ll be back afterwards to tell you how I go.’
A sudden lethargy showed on Eva’s face. ‘No, no. I already know the outcome, and I don’t want any more visitors today.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Her thoughts were racing ahead to the coming meeting. Would it really be as easy as Eva suggested, a fait accompli? ‘Goodbye then,’ said Nina. ‘Wish me luck.’
Eva smiled. ‘You won’t need luck, my girl. Now off you go.’
Nina swung into Moree’s main street with squealing brakes. There, a spot right out the front of the bank. That blue Ford had seen it too. Nina accelerated, darting into the space ahead of the other car, oblivious to the horn blast and the rude arm gesture out the window.
Nina gathered her documents into an untidy bundle, opened the door and stepped straight into the stream of traffic. She stumbled a little, causing a car to swerve and beep. Stupid high heels. Into the bank, heading for the enquiries counter, awkward in her tight pencil skirt.
‘Can I help you?’
I’ve an appointment with Trevor Bond.’
‘Name?’ The girl checked her computer screen. ‘You’re half an hour early.’
Half an hour. An eternity. Nina paced the room like a caged tiger. A small boy pointed at her. Nina watched the clock on the wall as she walked. The receptionist’s composed expression had changed to one of pity. ‘Let me see what I can do.’ She made a call. Nina held her breath. ‘He’ll see you now.’ Trevor emerged from a side room. He hadn’t changed a whit in five years. A plumpish, middle-aged man with a red face and receding hairline, who’d been the Moore family bank manager forever.
Trevor gestured her into his office with a smile and opened a file sitting before him on the desk. ‘Been getting reacquainted with your little farming operation.’ Was that good? Bad? ‘Quite impressive.’ He beamed over his glasses and she slumped a little with relief. ‘You’re turning a pretty profit when lots of floodplain farmers are falling over in this drought.’
Nina opened her mouth and shut it just as quickly. So far she wasn’t losing here. Better just let him go until he asked a question.
‘Can I see the signed contract of sale?’ He ran through a few figures – her profit and loss statement, her tax returns, the rough business plan that she’d drafted to show how Billabong Bend would contribute to her bottom line. At last he said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘All approved. I’ll organise a cheque for the deposit, and make the balance available at settlement in April.’
‘Really? That’s it?’
‘I could make it more complicated if you want?’ He chuckled at his own joke. ‘I only wish there were more good-luck stories out your way. More clever farmers, moving with the times, adapting.’ He extracted a sheaf of papers from a manila folder, and thrust a loan document before her. ‘Take some time to read through it.’
The words were a blur, but she forced herself to focus on each one. When she looked up, Trevor offered her a pen. ‘Sign wherever there’s a cross. Here . . . and here . . . and here.’ Nina did as he asked, making a conscious effort to steady her hand. There, it was done.
Nina stood out on the street in a daze. Pedestrians and cars passed by as if nothing had changed. The sun shone as before. How could everything look the same, but the world be so different? She phoned Lockie. ‘I did it,’ she said. ‘You’re speaking to the proud new owner of Billabong Bend.’
‘Good job.’
Was that it? Just good job? ‘Can’t you be a bit more enthusiastic?’
‘I’m happy for you, I am.’ She could hear the but coming. ‘But that place needs a lot of work and I won’t have much time to help. The boss has bought Kilcunda Downs next door, you know that. I’ll be flat out here for ages.’
Nina’s elation was wilting. ‘I never asked you to help.’
‘No,’ admitted Lockie. ‘No, you didn’t. But if you’re tied up at Billabong, when will I ever see you?’
‘So if I was to ask for help, you’d complain you’re too busy, and if I don’t ask for help, you complain I’m too busy? I can’t win.’ There was nothing wrong with her logic and Lockie knew it. He had enough sense to shut up. ‘I don’t suppose you could drive down tonight?’ she said.
‘I can’t, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But you’re coming up tomorrow, right? We’ll celebrate then.’
‘Okay. I’ll go round to Mum and Dad’s for a beer or something.’ She disguised the disappointment in her voice. ‘You are happy about me buying Billabong, right?’
‘It’s great news,’ he said. ‘So . . . see you tomorrow arvo at my place?’
‘Better make it Saturday morning,’ she said. ‘I’m checking the boundaries tomorrow. That’ll take all day.’
‘Righto,’ he said. ‘Gotta go. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’ Nina’s thoughts ranged about, trying to recapture her earlier euphoria, but it was no use. Without someone to share it with, her marvellous news had lost its shine.