The Toyota Land Cruiser came to a stop beneath a massive eucalypt beside the homestead’s wire fence. Baxter watched as the driver got out and walked to its offside. She looked up and waved to Pat Collins—and right at that moment Baxter, followed by his mother, walked out from behind the big shed into the bright sunlight. Chief was at his knee.
Liz ran full-tilt towards them. There was no swaying provocative walk in evidence now. ‘Greg,’ she cried as she fell on him, and then, ‘Chief!’, as she fell to her knees and hugged the dog. ‘Lordy, it’s good to see you.’
Baxter looked across to where the ringer had been standing, curious about her reaction, but she’d discreetly exited the scene.
‘This is my Mum, Liz. Frances Baxter.’
‘I know,’ she said, a little nervously. ‘I mean, I recognise you, of course. Greg thinks you’re the world on wheels, Mrs Baxter.’
Frances smiled and gave her a big hug.
‘Shouldn’t you extricate the baby?’ Baxter asked.
Liz leaned into the Land Cruiser to remove the boy from his seat. ‘There, did you ever see anything like him?’
‘Him’ was thrust into Baxter’s arms, where he immediately began to cry very loudly. ‘Whoa, fella, I’m not going to eat you. Probably not used to a man, eh? Too many women around.’ Despite the baby’s tears, Baxter was pleased to see he was a handsome, hearty fellow. ‘Well, he certainly looks healthy, Liz. Here, you take the scamp and I’ll carry your bags in.’
They followed her into the monolithic homestead and were staggered by the dimensions of the rooms. Air flowed along breezeways from the verandahs that surrounded the building.
Then they entered a huge kitchen, with massive cupboards and a large walk-in pantry. ‘There’s a coolroom outside,’ Liz explained. ‘We keep veggies and other stuff in it. They’ll keep for ages—saves going to town all the time. And of course, we have our own meat. You can put today’s veggies there. I’ll put his nibs down with a bottle and get these other things stored away, and then we can have lunch.’
‘Is there anything more I can do?’ Baxter asked.
‘You could feed His Majesty his bottle, if you don’t mind.’
Baxter looked across at her and smiled. There was less of the old provocative Liz now, and more of the practical station owner and mother. And she still looked great. She was wearing blue jeans and a cream silk blouse with a string tie, and her wide-brimmed hat was a pearl-coloured Akubra.
‘I could feed him if that would help,’ Frances suggested, holding out her arms.
‘By all means,’ Liz said. She handed over the baby and his bottle. ‘He’s inclined to drink it very fast, so you have to stop now and again.’
Watching his mother hold his son, Baxter grinned. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she learned the truth.
‘He’s a gorgeous baby,’ Frances said. She stroked his peach-fuzz cheek and smiled down at him as he started suckling the bottle.
‘He’s not bad,’ Liz agreed. ‘He’s got nice-looking parents so he ought to turn out all right . . . looks-wise, anyway. There, that’s that,’ she said, putting away three bags of groceries. ‘Will corned beef and salad do, Mrs Baxter? I’m not a fancy cook.’
‘It will do just fine,’ Frances said.
‘Is he drinking?’ Liz asked.
‘Half the bottle has gone. He’s a solid fellow. Must have been reared on a good paddock.’
‘I breastfed him. I wanted to because I reckoned I might not get another chance.’
Frances nodded.
‘He’s not bad, is he?’ Liz asked with obvious pride. ‘What do you think of your first grandchild, Mrs Baxter?’
Shocked, Frances looked at her for affirmation.
‘Yes, he’s Greg’s,’ said Liz. ‘He looks more like Greg than me.’
‘Greg, how could you not tell me?’ Frances asked, turning to her son.
‘I didn’t know until quite recently,’ he said, just as Liz said, ‘Greg didn’t know until he was several weeks old.’ They both laughed.
‘Greg wanted to surprise you,’ Liz explained. ‘You fell into his trap when you offered to come up here with him.’
‘Isn’t he the schemer?’
‘I learned from the best, Mum,’ Baxter said with a laugh, remembering that he’d recently accused her of exactly the same thing. She narrowed her eyes at him.
‘But how come,’ she said, addressing Liz, ‘I didn’t get to meet you when I came down to Moondilla? You’ve had a baby together and I hardly know a thing about you. Greg certainly kept you quiet.’
Baxter wasn’t sure how to explain their relationship to his mother, but Liz just smiled and said, ‘We’re good friends and we spent one night together.’
‘Well, I never!’ Frances laughed and cuddled the baby closer. ‘When he’s older you must come and stay with me, Liz. What did you call him?’
‘Gregory James,’ Liz said.
‘This is very exciting.’ Frances’s eyes were shining. ‘If I’d known, I’d have brought a bottle of champagne!’
‘Oh, that’s all right, I’ve got champagne,’ said Liz. ‘Greg won’t drink it but we can, Mrs Baxter.’
‘Frances! Please call me Frances.’
•
The women drank champagne while Baxter had his usual orange juice, and then they sat down to a wholesome lunch. Afterwards, the three of them settled Gregory James into his nursery for an afternoon nap. Frances headed to bed herself, pleading exhaustion from the heat, and Baxter sat drinking iced tea with Liz on the wide verandah.
‘There’s something I want to tell you about, Liz,’ said Baxter. ‘It concerns his Lordship in a roundabout sort of way.’
‘What is it, Greg?’
‘I want to tell you a story. It’s about a girl who died not so long ago. Her name was Rosa Craig, and she was a prostitute. I knew her when I lived in Sydney.’
Liz laughed, disbelieving. ‘Don’t tell me you were with a prostitute?’
‘Never. I did hold Rosa’s hand, but that was when she was dying.’ His voice roughened. ‘She’d overdosed on heroin.’
‘Oh, Greg.’
‘It wasn’t a very nice way for a nineteen-year-old to die, especially without a single member of her family at her bedside. There was only Mum and me in the room at St Vincent’s Hospital.’
So Baxter told Liz about Rosa and Prue, about the Craig family in Albury, and about Alan the Pimp.
‘What I came to understand,’ he said, ‘is just how important it is to show a child—whether young or a teenager like Rosa—how much you love him or her. I would hate to think that young Greg ever felt that he wasn’t loved.’
‘I couldn’t love him more than I do,’ Liz said passionately. ‘He’s practically my whole life.’
Baxter knew this was true, but he couldn’t help being concerned. Not after everything he’d seen and learned. ‘Soon enough our son will be a big lump of a teenager and much harder to handle. You won’t have an easy task, whether you’re raising him on your own or with a step-parent. Being a parent is a lot tougher proposition than it used to be. There are less jobs and more drugs, and affluence doesn’t guarantee that kids won’t be affected. It’s parents that make the difference.’
‘You don’t need to worry. I’ll never neglect our son.’ Liz looked across at Baxter, and then got up and came to him. She sat on his lap and rested her face against his cheek. ‘Rosa’s death must have affected you a lot, honey,’ she said softly.
‘More than you could possibly imagine. But I had one thing in my favour . . . a great mother.’
‘Well, I plan on being there for our son every day of his life, like your mum was for you—and hopefully he’ll end up a lot like you.’
•
When they left the next afternoon, Liz was tearful and held Baxter close to her. ‘Look after yourself, Greg. Bye Chief,’ she said, and crouched down to hug the big dog.
‘Say goodbye to Pat for us,’ said Baxter. The ringer had shown them around the property a little at sunset and then had dinner with them, telling Baxter all about cattle farming. ‘She appears to be a straight shooter.’
‘I will,’ Liz said. ‘Pat likes you too—she’s out looking at cattle or she’d be here.’
‘You will come and see me, won’t you, Liz?’ Frances said, and hugged her. Baxter had left the two women alone that morning for a long chat, and he’d returned to find them as thick as thieves.
‘I promise, Frances.’
‘And if ever you need any help, no matter what it might be, you should come straight to me,’ Frances added.
‘Thank you. I can see why Greg is what he is.’ Liz smiled at mother and son. ‘Young Greg will have a super grandmother.’
•
They were well on the way, though still in the scrub, before Baxter spoke.
‘Happy?’ he asked.
‘Happier than I expected to be. Liz is a fine woman. So how come you didn’t introduce her to me in Moondilla?’
‘I never considered her as a marriage partner. And I tried not to get too close to her because of Julie,’ he admitted.
‘You must have got very close to her to produce young Gregory James,’ Frances observed.
‘Close enough for that, yes, but not for more.’ He glanced at his mother, afraid he’d see disappointment on her face. ‘I suppose it isn’t all that you wanted—Liz isn’t family. But she does have my son. Half a loaf is better than no loaf at all.’
‘I couldn’t ever think of that lovely baby as half a loaf!’
‘Well if there are no more, he’ll have to do,’ Baxter said.
‘He’ll definitely do, whether there are more or not,’ Frances said firmly. ‘He’s very like you were at that age.’
‘Beats me how you can remember. But if you’re happy, I’m happy.’