After that evening, Jeremy became Alice’s ally in convincing Sam to consider some changes to Redstone. He wasn’t constrained by the same fear of offending the old man, so he was tougher on Sam than Alice was prepared to be.
Another unexpected ally came in the form of the bank manager, Phillip Kift, who arrived at Redstone the following Wednesday in his maroon and silver four-wheel drive. In her careful preparations, Olive had outdone herself and her scones were so light that they looked as though they could float off the platter. She’d timed them perfectly and they were still slightly warm, but not enough to make the cream go runny.
However, Mr Kift initially refused a scone on the grounds that he was dieting, and Olive feared they were off to a bad start. She looked despairingly at the ample pile of cream and jam heaped on each. A dieter’s worst nightmare. She couldn’t have got it more wrong if she’d tried. Next, the important man asked if there was any fresh fruit, but the mangos had finished and Olive’s last trip to Emerald had been three weeks earlier. It was the very thing she was completely out of.
‘Tinned peaches?’ she suggested hopefully.
But Mr Kift shook his head. ‘No, thank you, a cup of coffee will be fine.’
Olive looked in horror at the huge pot of tea she’d just made and scurried over to reboil the kettle. ‘Milk? Sugar?’ She smiled sweetly.
This time he nodded. ‘Skim if you’ve got any. I’ve brought my own artificial sweetener. Learned from other property visits. Not a staple in the bush.’ He chuckled.
Olive laughed more than the bank manager’s joke warranted, meanwhile panicking inwardly about the skim milk. Sam had just stirred the milk in the jug with a fork and the thick layer of cream floating on top had dispersed. The house cow made particularly creamy milk.
While she was still deciding what to do, the bank manager, eyeing the cream-laden scones, relented. ‘Oh, what the heck, maybe just one.’
The tide had turned. As he chatted genially, Mr Kift ate scone after scone, opening the floodgates for Olive to confidently serve his coffees with the rich creamy milk. The more scones he ate, the better his mood became, and Olive noticed triumphantly that he stirred a heaped teaspoonful of sugar into his third cup of coffee. But it was clear that Sam wasn’t enjoying himself. He’d never developed the art of idle chit-chat. And where were Alice and that larrikin of a Jeremy? They’d promised to be back in time for the bank manager’s visit.
At last she heard the rattle of the paddock ute driving into the yard. Soon after, the two came up the stairs in a hurry. ‘I’ll teach that mangy cocky to swear if it’s the last thing I do,’ she heard Jeremy saying as he pulled off his boots outside the door. Then the young pair burst into the kitchen in their sweaty socks.
Olive looked at Alice in dismay. She was wearing one of Sam’s shirts and her baggiest pair of jeans. Curls had escaped from her single plait and stuck out madly below the hat line, above which her hair was flat and plastered to her head with perspiration. Olive Day’s granddaughter had come to meet with the bank manager wearing soiled men’s work clothes and with hat hair.
Alice ran to the sink to have a wash before shaking hands with Mr Kift, who stood up in greeting.
‘She could grow potatoes under her fingernails,’ Olive noted.
Alice began by apologising profusely and explaining the delay. They had been trying to chase a fence-crawling bull back into the right paddock when the ute had become well and truly bogged.
‘Did you get him back where he belonged?’ Mr Kift wanted to know.
‘The bugger got away on us,’ Jeremy answered. He sat down without washing his grimy hands and picked up a scone. After putting the whole thing into his mouth he went on thickly, ‘The horny old rogue liked the look of those young heifers through the fence too much. Not too stoked about being shoved in with those clapped-out old breeders where Sam put him. Can’t say I blame him.’
Olive clasped her hands in horror. How had Jeremy O’Donnell ended up at their meeting with the bank manager? But Mr Kift gave a hearty bellow and sat back down too, picking up another scone.
Olive spoke quickly to prevent Jeremy from elaborating further on the bull and his desires. ‘Well, you’re here now, Alice, so let’s get down to business. I’m sure Mr Kift doesn’t want to be stuck out here all day.’
‘Bet he does.’ Jeremy used the back of his hand to wipe some cream from the side of his mouth. ‘Reckon it’d beat being stuck in some carpeted office shuffling blooming papers.’
‘You’re quite right there,’ Mr Kift agreed.
Olive looked from one to the other in surprise. Incredibly, Mr Kift was responding positively to Jeremy.
‘However,’ the important man went on, ‘I do have to drop in on two other stations today, so Mrs Day is correct, we’d better get on with it.’
Mr Kift moved his plate and cup aside and opened his laptop on the table. The others waited with an anticipation that was slightly tense. Even Jeremy kept quiet. Mr Kift studied the screen with a frown and cleared his throat.
‘Ah, yes. Redstone.’ He looked up at Sam, his face serious. ‘Mr Day, the bank has tabulated the performance of this station over the last five years, as well as we could with the limited statistics you’ve given us over time. It seems that this station is, er, struggling to remain profitable in today’s climate. We need to look at some possible strategies to improve its performance.’
‘You mean you’re going to drop us?’ Sam’s voice trembled a little.
‘Now, Mr Day, don’t go jumping the gun. This is just a review. We’ll give it another six months, and then I’ll need you to come and touch base with me in Emerald. Six months after that, I’ll come back out here again.’
‘Holy hell, the bastards are gonna be on your case from now on.’ Jeremy looked sympathetically at Sam.
‘Mr Kift,’ Alice spoke up, ‘we’ve been working on a whole host of new ideas for Redstone. If you have the time now I’d like to run through them with you. I’m confident that we can greatly improve the productivity of this place.’
‘Yes, Alice, but you forget that all these blooming plans of yours are gonna cost a bomb.’ Sam’s voice had a high note of despair. ‘We need more expenses like a hole in the head.’
‘Not necessarily.’ Mr Kift spoke quickly. ‘The bank may fund certain developments if they’re needed for the long-term viability of one of our investments.’
‘Your investment? Is that how you vultures look at it?’ Jeremy snorted.
‘We’re a bank, not a charity, Jeremy,’ Mr Kift said calmly.
‘Well, we’re not a charity case,’ snapped Olive.
Alice got up and went into the office, where they heard the computer start up.
After a session in the office of looking through Alice’s calculations and lists, Mr Kift appeared well pleased.
‘Here’s a printout of everything for you, Mr Kift. It includes all the projected figures as well.’ Alice handed him a crisp manila folder and he gave her a congratulatory smile.
‘I have a strong feeling that Redrock is on the road to recovery,’ he said.
‘Redstone, mate,’ put in Jeremy. ‘Better get it right before you bleed the place some more.’
Alice elbowed him in the side and Olive glared at him. ‘I’m sorry about the manners of our employee, Mr Kift,’ she said sternly.
‘Don’t apologise, Mrs Day. If what Mr Day says about him is true, then he’s worth putting up with.’
‘Jeez, that’s bloody decent of you to say so, sir.’
‘You two young ones will have your work cut out for you over the next couple of years.’ Mr Kift waved his hand at the computer screen, then turned to lead the way out of the office.
Jeremy followed close on his heels. ‘You’re not wrong there, mate. It’s just lucky that Alice here is such a bloody good sort, otherwise I’d’ve thrown in the towel by now.’ Jeremy winked at Olive, who had gasped involuntarily, and Mr Kift roared with laughter as he walked back out into the kitchen.
Olive gave the bank manager a corned-beef sandwich and some more of the scones for the road. He drove away with a wave and a smile. Sam excused himself and went to lie down, while the others went about their various tasks with a spring in their step for the remainder of the day.