‘Hurry up, it’s about to start,’ Fiona, Sarah’s best friend and flatmate, called from their well-worn purple velvet couch. ‘Have I told you how happy I am they’ve brought this show back.’ She snuggled into the overstuffed cushions with an enormous bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap.
‘How do I look?’ Sarah slid across the polished floorboards of the lounge room in her pink fluffy bed socks.
‘OMG!’ Fiona choked on a fistful of popcorn, coughing so hard her face turned an alarming shade of red.
‘Are you okay?’ Sarah passed her a glass of wine as Fiona struggled to gain her composure. She took a decent slug of sauvignon blanc.
‘That’s your mother’s wedding dress? Eleanor prim-and-proper-is-my-middle-name Lewis?’ Tears streamed down Fiona’s face and her voice sounded like she’d come down with instant laryngitis. Sarah couldn’t be sure it was the result of nearly choking, or at the sight of her mother’s wedding dress.
She did a little twirl; the tulle skirt spun out around her hips like a limp tutu. ‘Greg nearly had a fit when he saw it yesterday.’
‘Because you were only announcing your intent to think about getting married and the wedding dress made it all too real? Or does he have an aversion to eighties high fashion?’ Fiona took another gulp of wine to settle her throat. ‘Did he see it as parental pressure?’
‘No, none of the above. Whatever mothball stuff Mum had used to store the dress gave Greg hives.’ Sarah flopped on the couch not bothering to change. This could be the only time she would ever wear the dress and she wanted to enjoy every minute of it.
‘You’re kidding.’ Fiona laughed. ‘I can see it now.’ She leaned in a little closer and wrinkled up her nose. ‘I can smell it now.’
‘Stop laughing,’ Sarah said. ‘It was a horrible end to a very trying day. He came up in big red itchy welts all over his neck and face.’ She grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her, trying to buffer herself from the memory. ‘We had to leave early.’
Fiona snorted. ‘I don’t think it had anything to do with a reaction to the mothballs.’
‘What else could it be?’ Sarah curled her feet up underneath her and settled in, reaching for a handful of popcorn.
‘The only committed relationship that man wants is with his medications and supplements.’
‘He’s very sweet when he’s not obsessing about his health.’ She focused on the television, not wanting to have this conversation. It always led to the same place.
‘All I’m saying is, you could do better.’ Fiona grabbed the remote control and turned the volume up. ‘And you know it.’
Sarah fingered the skirt of the wedding dress. A classic eighties design, its strapless bodice made of creamy taffeta gave way to ruffles of white tulle ending mid-thigh. Not to her personal taste. But her mother had been so keen on her taking the dress that she couldn’t stand to break her heart. That and the fact her mother had a Madonna-inspired past had proven too good to resist.
The long drive from Newcastle back to Sydney last night had been awkward with Greg brooding in the passenger seat, scratching in silence, eyes straight ahead.
His announcement of his intent to eventually ask Sarah to marry him had landed like a lead balloon. Her family had looked at him in stony silence as if he’d gathered them together under false pretences. They’d expected an announcement, not a sneak preview of an announcement. He, in turn, couldn’t understand their disappointment.
The first episode of the revived series Farmer Goes a Courting began to roll and Fiona topped up their wine glasses, offering Sarah more popcorn. She took another handful, taking pleasure in the crunchy salty sensation, as she got lost in the show.
Six good-looking rural bachelors seeking love helped to lessen the pain of the lunch with her family. As she watched the contestants she couldn’t help comparing them to Greg. No way were these guys vegan, sugar-free, gluten-free, dairy-free … fun-free. Even though she lived in the city, she’d always felt she had the soul of a country girl. Her dad’s family had come from a tiny town in rural New South Wales, so maybe it was in her DNA.
She blew out a big breath and leaned over to get more popcorn.
‘I love Sunday nights. I think number two is my pick,’ said Fiona, eyes glued to the screen. ‘What is it about a farmer that gets me?’
‘Those bodies honed by hard, outside work?’
‘Big, calloused hands …’ sighed Fiona. ‘Those thighs.’
‘The ability to fix anything,’ said Sarah.
‘Capable.’
‘Robust. Strong. Dependable. Authentic.’
Fiona turned to look at her. ‘Sounds like a shopping list to me.’
‘What?’ Sarah laughed nervously and shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I’m perfectly happy.’
‘Really?’ Fiona raised her eyebrows. ‘She says as she sits here in her mother’s retro wedding dress watching a dating show while her almost-fiancé is off somewhere making love to a bottle of anti-histamine.’
‘He’s very sensitive,’ Sarah protested. ‘And it’s sensible to go slowly and think carefully about getting married. We both want to be sure it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Yes, because you’ve been together two years and it’s way too soon to think about an actual commitment, let alone living together.’
‘Fiona!’ Sarah pretended an outrage she didn’t feel. Only loyalty to Greg made her try.
‘Come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t trade Greg for one of these hunky farmers in a heartbeat? All that fresh country air? Those muscular arms and great butts?’
‘And no parking issues. Here, I don’t want to go anywhere in case I’ve nowhere to park when I get back.’ Sarah let her friend’s comment slide. She needed time to process the uncomfortable truth underneath it first.
‘Randwick has become ridiculous. Sydney is crammed to the gills with people. What we need is a sea change. Maybe we should apply to go on the show?’
Sarah looked at her, startled. ‘Farmer Goes a Courting? I’m not good-looking enough for that show. I’d be off in episode one. Besides, I’m almost nearly-engaged.’
Fiona laughed. ‘You are so funny. Not good-looking enough? Have you looked in the mirror lately? And I reckon you could take those other girls. I know what you’re like, competitive as hell once you get going. As for almost nearly-engaged … if he likes it, he should put a ring on it.’
‘Gee, thanks for the advice, Beyoncé.’ She launched a piece of popcorn at her friend who caught it and popped it in her mouth.
‘Now stop distracting me while the show is on,’ Fiona said as she chewed.
Sarah lost herself in the show as she fantasised about a life outdoors on the land with a man like that. She held no illusions about the hard graft required. The thought of getting up early in the morning to the sound of bird song and silence, no traffic roaring away in the background, seemed like heaven. No crowds, no public transport, no jostling and hustling every day. Just good, pure, honest hard work and down-to-earth people. It certainly held an appeal.
‘You know what we should do?’ Fiona suddenly sat up, depositing her popcorn bowl on the coffee table. ‘We should look up some rural dating sites, see what kind of farmers are out there looking for love.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Sarah snapped out of her fantasy.
‘Why not?’ Fiona fetched her laptop from the kitchen bench where it had been recharging. ‘No harm in looking, is there?’
‘I don’t suppose so.’ Nerves fluttered in Sarah’s stomach as if looking at a dating site constituted infidelity.
‘Looking at a dating site over your flatmate’s shoulder does not count as cheating,’ said Fiona, reading her mind. She sat on the couch and powered up her laptop. ‘Let’s see what we have.’
She rapidly typed some keywords into the search engine. ‘OutbackSingles.com. Just what we’re looking for.’
Sarah’s curiosity overcame her caution and she moved a little closer to get a better look.
‘I am a woman looking for a man aged thirty to forty-five. What?’ Fiona stopped as Sarah dug her elbow into her ribs.
‘Thirty? Don’t you think that’s a bit on the young side?’
‘Five years younger is totally acceptable. It allows for the ones who like older women. Now are we willing to relocate or travel?’ Fiona hesitated, looking at Sarah as if it were a serious question.
‘I guess.’ Sarah shrugged. Hadn’t she been fantasising about getting out of the rat race?
‘Yes.’ Fiona typed. ‘Occupation, journalist.’
‘Hey, why don’t you put in your occupation?’ Suddenly, the whole enterprise began to feel a little close to home.
‘Because I’m happy dating my inner-city hipster with a man-bun and commitment issues. It’s you who longs for the open range and a salt-of-the-earth type who smells of hay and lord knows what else. We should have been swapped at birth, you and me. I’m country born and bred but love the city and you’re the other way around.’ Fiona kept her focus on the screen, carefully typing in answers with her long manicured nails.
‘Newcastle isn’t exactly full of sophisticated urbanites.’
‘Fair call, but it’s not deep country either.’
Fiona had a point. Newcastle had turned into a commuter hub for Sydney. Sarah didn’t know what made her heart long for the wide, flat, open spaces of the Australian country like it did. Something about less people, noise and chaos perhaps.
‘Okay, I think we’re done.’ Fiona sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. ‘Shall I push go?’ she asked. ‘Or would you like to?’
‘You’re making it sound like this is serious.’ Sarah’s irritation arose as much from Fiona’s bossiness as from some deeper truth she didn’t want to examine.
Fiona shrugged. ‘Whatever. You don’t know if this is something serious until you see what’s out there, now do you? Yes, or no?’
Sarah hesitated. There was no harm in looking. And yet, the very act of checking out single farmers online smacked of infidelity. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘I say yes.’ Fiona clicked on the search button. ‘Well, hello,’ she purred as the screen flicked over to a series of profiles.
Despite her misgivings, Sarah scooted nearer. ‘He looks nice.’ She pointed at the screen.
‘Let’s take a closer look.’ Fiona opened the profile. ‘Nice and tall. Likes dogs. Looking for a relationship. Has kids.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘You ready to be someone’s bonus mum?’
‘I told you, this is not a serious search. We’re being nosy. But for the record, no I don’t think I’m ready for that situation.’ Sarah reached for her wine on the table and took a big gulp. What was she doing? While curiosity might have driven her to check out the dating site, she found herself weighing up the candidates as if she was searching for love.
‘Now this chap looks like a goer.’ Fiona selected another profile. ‘Ah, damn it. Doesn’t want kids. I’m guessing you do, right?’
‘Yep,’ Sarah said. ‘Not wanting kids is a deal breaker.’ The wine made her a little light-headed. ‘How am I going to raise kids with Greg? What on earth will I feed them?’ She blinked at Fiona, her mind blank for ideas.
‘Tofu, veggies, coconut milk … I don’t know. Greg will be able to fill you in on all the nutritional info you need. Better question is, what will your wedding cake be made of?’ She laughed as she watched Sarah’s face change. ‘See, you hadn’t thought of that.’
‘I always wanted three tiers. One layer of chocolate, one of vanilla and one red velvet,’ said Sarah. ‘I guess that’s out.’
‘The course of true love never runs smooth,’ chuckled Fiona. ‘Hey, this one looks a bit delicious.’
She opened the profile of someone called Lonely in Longreach. ‘Check out those blue eyes. Straight out of Hollywood.’ She turned the laptop screen sideways a little more so Sarah could get a good look. ‘You have to admit, this guy gives gluten-free Greg a run for his money.’
Sarah gave Fiona another nudge with her elbow. ‘Greg is a lovely, kind, considerate man,’ she said. Then she looked at Lonely in Longreach. ‘Holy heck. He’s straight out of Central Casting. Send me one sexy farmer, stat.’
‘Exactly,’ said Fiona. ‘This is what I’m talking about. Six feet tall, good. Loves dogs, even better. Good sense of humour, a necessity. Fit from farming—yes, we can see that. Oh no.’ Her shoulders slumped.
‘What is it?’ So far, he’d sounded as dreamy as he looked.
‘He’s got a kid. But oh, look—he’s a widower.’ Fiona sighed.
‘How old is the kid?’ Something about Lonely in Longreach’s photo captivated Sarah. The way he smiled into the camera, as if he were looking straight at her. Every time she looked into his eyes her heart did a little leap.
‘Fifteen, practically an adult. Might not be so bad. A boy, which might be easier than a teenage girl getting jealous because you’re moving in on her dad.’
‘Thank you, Dr Phil.’
Fiona snapped the laptop closed. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. We’re only window shopping.’ She slipped the laptop onto the coffee table and curled her feet underneath her, settling in to watch the rest of the show. ‘Want some more popcorn?’
‘No, thanks.’ Sarah longed to reach out and pick up the laptop. She wanted to read Lonely in Longreach’s profile for herself, take another look at his photo. Fiona had been light on details. Sarah wanted more information but she didn’t dare ask in case her flatmate mistook the question for interest. Which it wasn’t. Not in the least. She was only curious.
Sarah had dreamed of becoming a farmer since she’d been a little girl. Her mother had been adamant this was not a career option for a lady and had steered Sarah towards journalism. Maybe all this fascination with working men of the land came down to a secret desire to live their life and had nothing to do with the fact her romantic life had stalled, tumbling into a free fall neither she nor Greg could save.
She sipped at her wine, feigning interest in Farmer Goes a Courting. But her thoughts kept coming back to Lonely in Longreach. Out there somewhere, deep in rural Australia, he went about his business, not knowing she existed at all.
What if he did?