Chapter 3

‘Stop laughing,’ Gull murmurs sleepily as she turns over in bed the next morning. ‘Stop laughing at me.’ Suddenly, she sits bolt upright. ‘Where am I?’ She looks around the pale yellow room with the open window opposite her bed. ‘Oh, now I remember,’ she sighs slumping back down in the bed. ‘The Folly!’ Then Gull sits up again, staring at the bedside clock. ‘Six thirty.’ She groans. ‘Too early! Eight o’clock’s early enough for me in the holidays.’ She glances over at Lucy’s bed: it’s empty. Gull frowns. With renewed vigour, the maniacal laughter that she heard in her dream starts again.

‘Alright, alright,’ Gull grumbles as she climbs out of bed and pads over to the window. ‘I’m up. Happy now?’ Looking out the window, she sees a slender branch of an old eucalypt two arm lengths away, growing toward the outer wall of the room. On it sit two mature kookaburras, sharp beaks pointing skyward as they laugh and laugh madly. ‘Of course you’re happy,’ Gull smiles. ‘You’re awake.’

The kookaburras are so close Gull can clearly see the pale blue on their bodies standing out against the dark, dull brown and beige. They stop laughing, look over at her with their heads on one side, laugh once more and then fly away.

She looks at her bed longingly but shrugs and saunters past it. I’m staying in my pyjamas just in case Lucy is the only one up. Then I can crawl back into bed without feeling guilty.

Running down the stairs, she opens the kitchen door and is greeted by a sea of new faces. Everybody turns and smiles at her.

‘Hello, sleepyhead,’ Helen says kissing her good morning. ‘This is our niece, Gull,’ she says to the others. ‘She’s up from the city for the holidays. And just in time too to help with the harvest.’

‘Poor thing,’ sympathises a busy woman making a heap of sandwiches. ‘I know you lot. You’ll work her half to death and she’ll have to go back to the city to be resuscitated.’

‘And this, of course, is Shirley,’ Helen says smiling at the cheerful woman. ‘I’ve made her boss of the food until the harvest’s in.’

‘I’ve met Ted,’ Gull smiles at her. She likes Shirley immediately.

‘Ah, the rascal,’ Shirley laughs. ‘He’s thrown over my good, plain sandwiches for Jake’s. Says mine aren’t “gourmet”.’

‘Oh, Shirley,’ Jake blushes pleased with the compliment.

‘The rest of you can introduce yourselves while I get Gull some breakfast. Our very own local corn flakes alright, honey?’ Helen asks putting a bowl on the table. ‘There’s plenty of toast and I’ll make a fresh pot of tea. Anyone else for a cuppa?’

Nods run through the kitchen as a sea of happy women slice lamb, ham, cheese and tomatoes for today’s hungry hordes. Tom and Jake pat Gull on the head every time they pass her, expecting to annoy her. However, Gull is so busy eating and watching the activity she hardly notices.

Helen says, ‘Once you’ve finished, Gull, I’ll get you to take these provisions out to the big shed where Harry, Jimmy and Ted are getting ready for the day. Maybe on the way back, you could collect the eggs?’

‘Great,’ Gull says cramming the last piece of toast into her mouth.

‘Don’t worry about taking Ted’s basket out,’ Shirley says. She looks down at Useless who is getting under everyone’s feet while he scavenges for scraps on the kitchen floor. ‘I’m organising special delivery.’

‘Huh?’ Helen asks.

‘Watch this,’ Shirley says proudly. She bends down and Useless comes loping over. ‘Pick up the basket,’ she says to Useless who looks at her confused. To the astonishment of everyone in the room, Shirley gets down on all fours and picks up the handle of the full basket in her teeth, and then she drops it back onto the floor. ‘Just like that,’ she says to Useless. The others laugh as they shake their heads.

‘Oh, Shirley, he’ll never do that. He’s not smart enough,’ Helen exclaims.

Just then, Useless clamps his mouth over the handle and picks the basket up.

‘Good boy!’ Shirley beams. ‘See?’ she says to the stunned audience. ‘Now, go find Ted, in the big shed. Where your puppies are. And give Ted the basket. Go on. Go find Ted.’

Wagging his tail happily, Useless trots over to the screen door, nudges it open and walks towards the big shed, the basket swinging under his chin. Everybody in the kitchen runs to the screen door and peers out as Useless disappears into the shed.

‘Told you so,’ Shirley says with a superior smirk on her face. ‘Special delivery.’

‘Wow! That’s so clever,’ Gull breathes at the front of the group. As they walk back to their places in the kitchen, Gull runs upstairs, throws off her pyjamas and clambers into an old pair of jeans and a pale blue t-shirt. Brushing her hair quickly, she ties it back into a ponytail and secures it with a bright pink band. In no time, her teeth are brushed and her face clean. From the bedroom, Gull hears gales of laughter coming from the kitchen. Slipping on her canvas shoes, she races down the stairs and runs into the kitchen. Standing at the door of the kitchen is Ted. In one hand, he holds an empty basket. His other hand grips Useless’ collar.

‘I guess it’s a joke. But why would anyone send Useless over with an empty basket?’ Ted asks Shirley, looking mystified. Everybody is laughing so hard, especially Shirley with tears running down her face, that no one can answer him. Ted continues, ‘I saw Useless walk in and stop near the puppy pen. I didn’t take any more notice until he came over to me and dropped this basket at my feet. An empty basket,’ he adds with emphasis.

‘Oh no,’ Gull says horrified, looking from a happy Useless to a bemused Ted. Before she can stop herself, she blurts out, ‘He’s eaten your lunch.’

‘I thought so,’ Ted says. ‘Whose bright idea was it to send this dog over with a basket full of food?’ Ted looks around the room. His eyes rest on Shirley. ‘Should have guessed, clever clogs,’ he mumbles. He hands her the empty basket and leaves, shaking his head ruefully. The screen door closes after him. ‘Try Gull next time,’ he shouts back. ‘She doesn’t look as hungry.’

‘Oh, Useless,’ Shirley laughs drying her tears on her apron. ‘You’re not such a dumb dog after all, are you?’ Useless wags his tail enthusiastically.

Shortly after, Gull runs over to the shed with three full baskets while Tom holds onto Useless’ collar just outside the kitchen door. ‘You’ve already had enough,’ he says to the dog. ‘No more sandwiches for you today, or jam roll.’

Seeing Gull emerge from the big shed, Tom races over, leaving Useless to his own devices. ‘I’ll help collect the eggs,’ Tom says handing her the egg basket.

‘Great,’ Gull grins. As Tom shoos away the broody hens from their roosts, Gull gathers up the eggs. Together, they search for hidden eggs in nooks and crannies.

‘Another two,’ Tom says, scrambling out from behind the chook shed. He holds them up for Gull to see and adds them to the pile.

Suddenly, they hear the roar of the Harvesters as they rev into action. Like a flotilla of fiery red ships, they glide into the deep sea of emerald green hemp. Gull and Tom race out of the chicken coop to watch as the Harvesters roll slowly towards the distant acres. The day is already heating up. A slight haze hangs over the farm. The humidity is rising. Gull looks at her wristwatch. ‘It’s only eight o’clock,’ she says amazed. ‘And already so much is happening.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Tom murmurs, ‘you’re bound to get bored after a while. I know I do: the same old routine every day. Nothing new or different to do.’ He kicks the dirt with his foot, sending up a little cloud of dust.

‘Come on,’ Gull says, ignoring her cousin’s bitter remark. ‘Let’s take these eggs back and see what else they want us to do.’ Together, they walk back to the kitchen, the Harvesters now tiny, red specks in the distance.

For the rest of the morning, Helen organises Gull and her cousins in packing and freezing sandwiches for the week ahead, filling empty flasks with tea or coffee, feeding Jam, the horses and the various working dogs and cats around the farm. As the dogs round up and guard the sheep, the cats stealthily set about finding rats or mice.

‘All done,’ Tom says as he stands in the puppy pen while Gull sits stroking Jam who is contentedly purring in her arms.

‘What’s next?’

‘Well, Mum says, if you want to, I can saddle up Trixie and Dot and we can take them out for a gallop. If you can ride, that is,’ he adds cheekily.

‘Of course I can ride! I go to pony camp every chance I get.’

‘Oh, that’s great!’ Tom says, coming alive. ‘That means we can go off riding lots of times while you’re here. There are some beaut spots to explore, like down near the creek, and up in the hills. We could take a picnic lunch with Lucy and Jake. Or maybe camp out overnight.’

Gull laughs at Tom. ‘I thought you said there was nothing to do. See? There’s lots of things to do.’

‘Yeah, suppose you’re right,’ Tom shrugs. ‘I guess it’s not until someone new turns up that you remember the fun things.’

‘We can be tourists together,’ Gull suggests as Jam jumps out of her arms. Gull stands up and stretches. ‘Let’s go and saddle up.’

‘Yeah, we’ve still got time before lunch,’ Tom says as they walk through the shed, pushing through the rusting door and out to the stables at the back. In the stalls as they enter, Gull sees four beautiful horses. The two ponies, Trixie and Dot, brown and beige, jostle as they see Tom.

‘Ready for a run, girls?’ Tom asks as he grabs the first saddle and puts it on Trixie’s back.

Gull lifts up the second one and does the same with Dot who is sniffing her and neighing softly. Gull looks around: feed containers are full to the brim with oats. The four stalls are well worn but clean, and the horses’ grooming brushes are on a shelf in the corner above their blankets.

‘Who owns those two?’ Gull asks pointing towards a mare and stallion further along the wall.

‘Mum’s got the stallion, Brutus, and Dad has the mare. Her name’s Velvet.’

‘Shouldn’t it be the other way around?’ Gull enquires.

‘Yeah, you’d think so,’ Tom says, slipping the bridle over Trixie’s ears. ‘But Velvet’s got more go, and Brutus is getting on a bit now. He’s pretty tame. Come on, Trixie,’ Tom says, leading the pony gently out of her stall. Gull does the same. ‘We can take them for a gallop by the river,’ he suggests as he pulls himself into the saddle.

‘I’ll follow you,’ she says. Then both mares start to canter thrilled to be free of the stables.

Tom and Gull gallop to the top of a grassy hill. While Tom points to the meandering river below, Trixie and Dot munch on the grass at their feet. ‘We’ll let the horses stand in the water when we get down there: they love it. Come on.’

Gull can only see glimpses of the river as the sun hits the water. As they approach the riverbank, she can see that on both sides of the banks are tall, leaning gums, flowering yellow wattle back further and the occasional ancient willow tree. Cantering down, Trixie and Dot wend their way to the familiar water waiting patiently as Gull and Tom slide off their backs so they can stand in the cool, clear liquid. The cousins take off their boots and, rolling up their jeans, wade into the river.

‘Ooh! So cold,’ Gull squeals while Tom laughs.

‘This’ll cool you down even more,’ he laughs as he playfully splashes her. In no time, their jeans and t-shirts are soaked. ‘Don’t worry, Gull,’ Tom grins. ‘By the time we ride home, we’ll be bone dry.’ The cousins climb out onto the bank and sit on a fallen log.

‘I never asked what you want to do when you leave school,’ Tom says.

Gull is silent for a while. ‘I don’t really know. Maybe be a computer programmer or a vet or start my own business doing something no one else is doing.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s a big question.’

Tom nods, both staring into space happy to be doing nothing.

Some time later, Tom and Gull hear the kitchen bell ringing and mounting reluctantly, turn their horses’ heads for home.

‘We’ve got fifteen minutes to get there,’ Tom says as he races off ahead of Gull. In no time, they’re racing neck and neck, the horses racing for home and some oats.

Exhilarated, Tom and Gull dismount in front of the big shed and lead their horses around the back to the stables. Putting a light blanket over each of them as they cool down, Gull and Tom race each other to the kitchen.

Except for Lucy, Jake, Helen and Shirley, who are already eating, the kitchen is deserted.

Washing her hands at the sink, Gull asks ‘Where is everyone?’ then sits down between Helen and Shirley.

‘Gone home,’ Helen answers stifling a yawn. ‘Everyone’s only here for the mornings to top up the supplies. We should be right for tomorrow with Shirley’s help,’ she adds.

‘I’ll be here early,’ Shirley says as she hands Gull a plate of salad. ‘I’ll come over with Ted and invite myself for breakfast.’

‘You know you’re always welcome,’ Helen smiles as she pours the tea.

‘After lunch, I want to show Gull the vegetable garden.’ Jake turns to his cousin. ‘Maybe you could help me with some weeding. Then we can pick whatever Mum wants for dinner.’

‘Yeah! Yum,’ Gull says as she takes a mouthful of lamb, tomato and lettuce.

‘Our very own lettuce and tomato,’ Lucy exclaims proudly. ‘Grew them ourselves.’

‘Wow!’ Gull says as she takes another bite of the cucumber with lemon balm and dill dressing.

‘And the herbs,’ Lucy adds.

‘Grew everything from seed,’ Shirley nods. ‘Helen and I get the seeds from the Diggers’ Club, all original. None of your hybrid stuff for us thank you very much. Then we hand them over to Lucy who plants and grows them. And to help her even more,’ she says briskly, picking up a small crunchy carrot, ‘we invite ourselves over and eat them.’ She laughs and the others laugh with her.

All except Helen, who is busy yawning. ‘Oh, sorry,’ Helen says apologetically. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me. I can’t stop yawning.’

‘Can’t be the company,’ Shirley says. ‘We’re as funny as a circus of fleas. Or maybe,’ she adds conspiratorially, ‘that’s the problem. You’re exhausted from all the laughing. It couldn’t be the hard work: we’re all used to that. Excluding Gull, and she’s holding up really well,’ she says, winking at Gull.

‘Maybe you should lie down for a bit, Mum,’ Jake says gently. ‘We can clear up here.’

‘Oh, no, I’m sure …’ The next minute, Helen’s head drops onto the table, a second after Lucy has jerked her cup of tea away. Everybody else looks up startled.

‘Mum?’ Lucy asks worried.

Shirley stands up and comes over to Helen. Gently, she shakes Helen awake. ‘Think you’d better lie down,’ Shirley says and, helping Helen up, firmly steers her towards the main bedroom. A few minutes later, Shirley returns, a frown on her normally sunny face.

‘Is Mum alright?’ Tom asks. Shirley looks around at the children’s faces, a look of concern on each one.

‘I think she’s just overdone it. You know what she’s like,’ she says as breezily as she can. ‘If your father’s worried about anything, she takes on all his worries. Or if there’s any trouble in the air, she picks up on it faster than anyone. And it ends up affecting her before anyone else: she’s that psychic.’ The four worried faces watching her still look worried. ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing that a good lie down won’t cure. She’ll be right by dinner time, mark my words.’ She smiles encouragingly at the four anxious faces. ‘Now, who’s for another cuppa?’