Berry looked up from her paint samples to the sound of knocking on the front door. She frowned as she got up from the old couch, and when she opened the front door she was more than surprised to see Nate standing there. He was wearing a red plaid shirt, jeans and work boots. His dark blond hair was swept to one side, and Berry’s gaze lingered on the slight stubble of his chin and the light in his eyes.
‘Hey,’ he said as he gave her a brief smile. ‘I didn’t disturb you, did I?’
Berry shook her head. ‘No, not really.’ He looked a little uncomfortable as he took a step back. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘Um, thanks,’ Nate said as he started to walk in.
Berry glanced over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’
‘Oh, thanks—sure, but only if you’re having one. I don’t want to put you out.’
‘You’re not,’ she replied as she started to fill up the kettle. ‘So, what can I do for you?’
‘You said the other day that you might renovate this place, and I was thinking you might need some suggestions about contractors seeing as you haven’t been in Harlington for a while?’
‘Well, I’m certainly open to suggestions,’ Berry said with a smile. ‘I’ve researched a list but I’m not sure if they’re any good.’
Nate leaned against the kitchen bench. ‘Do you want to tell me who’s on your list? Maybe I can point you in the right direction.’
‘Sounds good. I’ll just go and grab it.’
Nate waited until Berry returned holding onto a notepad. ‘From what I can gather, there aren’t any contractors in Harlington, is that right?’
Nate nodded his head. ‘Yeah, you’ll have to go to Lawson’s Bend or maybe Bendigo. Harlington’s pretty small, so the main thing that’s going on here is farming. Some of the residents live here because they’re still hanging onto the family land but they work further afield.’
‘I kind of figured that was the case. Harlington doesn’t seem big enough to support all its population.’
‘Yeah, it used to be, apparently—you know, back in the day—but now many people use it as a base. Most work in the larger towns and a few people even travel to Melbourne each day.’
‘That’s a bit of a journey, isn’t it?’
‘About an hour and a half by train and add another fifteen minutes to drive to Lawson’s Bend to get to the station. I’ve asked a friend of mine why he does it—seems it would be a bit wearing after a while—but he said that he gets the best of both worlds: his dream job and living in a place he loves. He figures if travelling is the price he has to pay then he’s happy to do it.’
‘I guess even if you live in the city your commute’s going to take a while,’ Berry said with a shrug. ‘I get that some people would choose to commute. At least you’d get to wake up to that each morning,’ she gestured to the window.
‘Yeah, maybe it’s because I’ve always lived here, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else.’
‘I like both. It’s beautiful here but the city is great too. I love the movement and the bustle and the fact that I can get a great coffee at two in the morning.’
Nate laughed. ‘Well, you’re not going to get that here unless you make it yourself.’
‘I guess I’d better brush up on my barista skills then,’ she said with a wink as she handed Nate the notepad. ‘Here’s the list I’ve made so far. Are any of these contractors any good?’
Nate scanned the list. ‘Yeah, I recognise some of them. The Grants from Lawson’s Bend are good, same with this guy from Violet Falls.’ He said as he pointed to the paper. ‘We’ve contracted work from both of them over the years and they were excellent. The only one I wouldn’t recommend is Big Jake—Wonder Builder.’
‘Bad?’
Nate smirked. ‘He does a good job, I won’t take that away from him, but unfortunately he’s not that reliable. We tend to “wonder” if Jake is actually going to turn up to finish the job.’
Berry smiled. ‘Well, maybe we should cross him off the list.’
‘Yeah, probably a wise move. So, what are you thinking about doing to the place?’
Berry gave Nate a rundown.
‘You’re not playing around, then?’
‘Not when it comes to renovation,’ Berry said with a laugh. ‘If I’m going to do it, I might as well do it right. And—’ she looked around ‘—the house … no, the whole place needs a facelift to shake the past off.’
Nate glanced up at Berry and for a moment their eyes met. ‘Will that work?’
‘I don’t know,’ Berry answered in a soft voice. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’
The light-hearted banter seemed to disappear within an instant and Nate wished he hadn’t asked the question. It was stupid, the last thing Berry needed was a constant reminder of what happened here. The silence lengthened, as Nate shifted from one foot to the other while he tried to work out what to say next.
Berry seemed to snap out of it first. ‘Sorry, here I was going on and I haven’t even made you that coffee yet,’ she said quickly as she started to grab a couple of mugs from the dresser. ‘How do you have it?’
‘White with one, thanks.’
‘No problem.’
Wracking his brain to find something else to say, Nate came up with the first thing that popped into his head. ‘Do you ride horses?’ He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth—of all the lame things to come up with.
Berry glanced over at him with a slight frown on her face.
Yep, this would definitely have to be the lamest thing he’d ever uttered.
‘Um, I’ve never ridden a horse.’
‘Oh, I thought that you probably did when you were a kid—I mean, growing up on a farm and all.’
Berry shook her head as she poured the water into the coffee plunger, the scent beginning to waft in Nate’s direction. ‘Nope, it wasn’t that sort of farm. About the only animals we ever had were half a dozen chickens, a few sheep and a cat.’
Damn, he was clutching at straws now. When did talking to a woman get so hard? There was something about Berry that made him more self-conscious than usual, and he was starting to understand that her opinion of him meant more than that of other girls he knew.
‘Um, if you want … you can come over and I’ll teach you. That is, if you’ve got time.’
‘What?’
‘I mean, you don’t have to. It’s just that you’re next door to a horse stud, so I thought … It doesn’t matter …’ ‘Thanks, that would be great,’ Berry said before he could finish. ‘I’d like that, I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride.’
Nate looked at her and slowly smiled. ‘Good, I’d be happy to teach you. Shall we say, Saturday morning at nine?’
‘That sounds good. I’m afraid that you’ll have to be patient, I’ve never really been near a horse, let alone ridden one,’ Berry said.
‘You’ll be right, I’ve got a sense for these things.’ Nate grabbed a pen that was sitting on the kitchen bench and jotted something down on her pad. ‘Here’s my number, just in case you need to get in touch.’
‘Thanks,’ Berry said as she swapped the notebook for his coffee. ‘I mean it, that’s very kind of you to offer to teach me.’
‘Not a problem,’ Nate said as he watched her turn to grab her coffee, his gaze lingering an instant too long.
Soon after Nate left, Berry stepped out for some fresh air to clear her head. As she walked out the back door she took a deep breath. She had no business even thinking about Nate Tarant, but his handsome face lingered in her mind’s eye. She was here to do a job and that was all. Yet, she couldn’t deny even to herself that there was something about Nate that quickened her heart. And she had agreed to riding lessons! She couldn’t even tell herself why. It’s not like she had the time to take on a new hobby like horse riding, yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn down his offer. In fact, she hadn’t even hesitated. The idea excited her—but it was not the thought of riding a horse that quickened her pulse.
Berry headed through the back yard towards the sheds. She remembered them from when she was a kid but had barely taken notice of them. Her dad had kept the tractor in the big shed because it could be locked, as well as things like his chainsaw and any other tools that were a bit pricey. The first shed was a big metal one, which was the size of a couple of rooms, and it appeared to be the newest and the one in the best nick. Its door was shut but the fat padlock was hanging open.
Not too far away were two more smaller sheds that had seen better days. Both were made of wood and one had a little cracked window that she could peer through. Berry pulled out a tissue from her jeans pocket and rubbed the dirt layers from the glass and looked in. It was fairly dark and she couldn’t make out much except for an old mower and a couple of boxes.
The last shed had been there for decades. The door stuck a couple of times but Berry eventually managed to push it open, and the sunlight cast a beam into its gloomy depths. There was a jumble of old boxes, ancient suitcases and enough cobwebs to make Miss Havisham proud. She stood in the doorway for a moment as the scent of dust, stale air and the discarded past wafted around her.
She took a tentative step into the shed but the floorboards creaked. Glancing around, she saw another pile of boxes in the corner, several stacks of newspapers and a couple of worn-out old-fashioned baskets. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and there was a stillness within the room that Berry found a little unnerving. She took a step back and regrouped. The only way she was going to get this shed cleaned out was with gloves, a broom, copious amounts of insect spray and very loud music.
Going back to the big shed, Berry fiddled with the padlock until it came clear. Poking her head in, she saw that it was almost empty. The tractor wasn’t there, nor at first glance were any of her father’s tools. Berry frowned, unsure what was meant to be there. She looked down to the padlock in her hand—had the stuff been sold off or had it been stolen? She would get to the bottom of it but first she’d have a look around. There was a work bench sitting across the far wall and next to it an old metal filing cabinet.
Berry sighed as she pulled out the first drawer; just as she suspected, it was empty except for half a dozen discarded suspension files. The second drawer was hiding a hammer, two paintbrushes of varying sizes and a small empty Vegemite jar half-filled with gold drawing pins—not exactly treasure by any stretch of the imagination.
She pulled open the third drawer and found a couple of manila folders filled with old photocopies and a stack of handwritten notes. Berry took out one of the sheets and recognised her father’s bold handwriting. For an instant a memory popped into her head. It was almost as if she were seeing through a faded yellow filter of a long-gone summer. She remembered that he had a habit of writing notes in varying notebooks and scraps of paper. She frowned for a second as she focused on the picture in her mind. She remembered wondering what he was writing about, that day she found him in the kitchen with a pile of old maps, books and, of course, notebooks.
‘Dad, whatcha doing?’ she had asked as she pulled up a chair and sat by him.
‘Homework,’ he answered with a slight smile.
‘You don’t go to school,’ Berry said with a scoff. ‘You’re too old.’
He laughed and ruffled her hair. ‘Too old! Geez, Berry Cherry, you certainly know how to hurt a man. Just how ancient do you think I am?’
Berry shrugged. ‘I don’t know, not as old as Grandpa.’
‘Wow,’ he muttered under his breath as he brushed his dark hair away from his eyes.
‘Anyway, what’s all this?’ Berry asked as she gestured to the table full of papers.
‘As I said, it’s homework,’ he replied.
‘Dad,’ Berry said with a whine, ‘aren’t you going to tell me?’
He looked down at her, shook his head and held one finger up to his mouth. ‘Nup, it’s a secret.’
As she stood in the shed immersed in her memory, a lump formed in the back of her throat and for an instant her head began to swim. She dropped the page, took a step back and leaned on the workbench until the sensation passed.
‘Get a grip,’ she muttered. ‘It’s just a piece of paper. Don’t be an idiot.’
It was just a stupid bit of paper, but with it came the mental picture of her father smiling down at her. These were the memories she didn’t want—these were the ones that she feared the most because they were the most confronting. How could someone she had loved so much turn out to be the monster who had destroyed everything?
Berry dragged in a breath and straightened up. ‘This is ridiculous—just get your act together,’ she said in a firm voice.
Turning back to the open drawer, she picked up the manila folders and placed them on the bench to go through later back at Cumquat Cottage. Finally, she turned her attention to the last drawer. Instead of it being empty like she thought, it was full of more papers, an old briefcase and several slim volumes. Berry picked one up and saw that it was a history of Harlington and the surrounding area. Another book was a collection of reminiscences and local legends.
Berry frowned as she found more of her father’s handwritten notes and scribbles. Whatever this was, it was obvious that it had been important to him. For a second she almost wanted to shut the drawer and walk away but something stopped her. Instead she scooped the material out of the drawer and stacked them on top of the manila folders.
It didn’t matter if it hurt. Berry was going to discover what he had been working on and why. Decision made, she carried the papers into the sunshine and placed them on an old outdoor chair until she could take them home. She looked back to where the tractor should have been, and pulling out her phone, decided to ring the only person who would know what happened to it.
‘Hey, Uncle Dave.’
‘Berry? Is something wrong?’
‘No, no—I’m okay, I just had a question. I was poking around the old sheds and I remembered the tractor. What happened to it after we left?’
‘Ah, it was sold, along with other bits and pieces—tools, and the cars. Jack Ford organised it for me. They held an auction and all the money that was made was put towards your education, and Tom’s and Jess’s. It seemed like the right thing to do.’
Berry paused for a moment. There was so much about her past that she didn’t know, and she felt as if she was intruding on decisions that affected her own life. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘I thought someone getting use out of the tractor was a better idea than locking it up for years. Was I wrong?’
‘No,’ Berry said quickly. ‘Of course not. I just wondered what had happened.’
‘You shouldn’t worry about the sheds. I doubt there’s much in them. But if you want to empty them, I’ll arrange for someone to come and do it,’ Uncle Dave said.
‘No, it’s okay. I can do it.’
‘Are you sure? You’ve got enough on your plate with getting the house fixed.’
‘You’re right about that. I’ll get the house organised before I tackle the sheds, okay?’
Uncle Dave gave a small laugh. ‘Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Good, I’ve got an appointment, so I’ll talk to you later.’
‘Bye. Love you.’
‘Love you too,’ Uncle Dave said before the phone went dead.
Berry stared across the paddocks to the distant hills. Her uncle was right, she really did need to get the house squared away before she started tackling outside. Reluctantly she turned towards the house after giving the old shed a final glance. She needed to organise a contractor for the renovations and get this project moving. If she didn’t stop procrastinating, she would still be here next winter. In a way it didn’t really matter as she had no pressing business in Melbourne, but she didn’t want to burden her uncle’s finances too long. If there was a considerable hold-up she’d have to look for a part-time job somewhere up here.
With a little more determination in her step, Berry walked back to the house. Even though she’d only been back in Harlington for a short time, she knew deep down that she was dragging her feet on starting the reno. This was partly because she didn’t want to make a mistake and hire the wrong contractor, but mainly because even though she hated to admit it, seeing the house as it was brought back all her childhood memories. The more she was at the house, the more memories came back—flashes of her mum and grandparents … and even her dad. As she allowed herself to remember her childhood, Berry came to the realisation that in most ways it had been idyllic. There was never a lot of money to go around and sometimes they all had to make do with what they had, but still there was a comforting glow about the past that she couldn’t ignore any longer. The crackling of the open fire, the hot sweet porridge her mother would make each morning in winter, and how her breath would steam in the cold May air as she helped her mother pick apples in their orchard. How could Berry have forgotten how it felt to run barefoot across the paddocks when they were carpeted with spring grass, or the joy of taking the dingy with Jess and paddling over the island to play.
Her childhood had been snatched away by that one terrible day, and she had spent the rest of her life doing her damnedest to block everything else out. Berry had thrown herself into her studies and keeping her promise to her mum by looking after Jess and Tom. Perhaps she should have tried to hold on to some of her childhood memories, but instead she’d locked them up because remembering how happy she’d once been was just too painful. As soon as she started to think, the same question would always raise its ugly head: How could Dad do what he did? And equally as terrifying, if Jess and Tom had been there, if she had been there … would he have killed them too?