The Saturday scheduled for Landcare to work on Lovers’ Lookout ticked around too fast. Over the last few days, Grandma Spenser’s ghost seemed to hover over Erin, urging her to finish the chores that must be done to make the day a success. She could almost hear the old woman tutt-tutting over her plans.
‘I’m sad you have to sell up, dear,’ she heard that imaginary voice say. The voice, with its twang from old Australia, would probably haunt Erin for the rest of her life. ‘I understand about your mother. But…isn’t there some other way?’ Erin tried to switch off the persistent whisper. She’d slave to make the Landcare day a success. Ten years of tradition was at stake. Before Saturday Erin would have to make a mountain of coffee-break munchies, ranging from fruit cake to Anzac biscuits, then make lunch for a dozen hungry people. On Friday evening she put every available cup, saucer, mug and plate on the table in the little bougainvillea-covered summerhouse. She bought five varieties of tea, some respectable coffee, and litres of milk. Later, she raided the freezer for her recent baking efforts and put them out to thaw.
Around nine on Saturday morning the first car pulled up outside the cottage. A middle-aged woman in muddy overalls walked up to the front door dragging a bundle of tools: spade, garden fork, machete, loppers.
‘Hi Erin, I’m Jenny,’ she smiled. ‘I work in Hamish’s office. Where do I start?’ Erin peered at the woman, then recognised her.
As Erin puzzled over the question, another vehicle stopped at the gate — the battered truck she’d come to recognise by now. Hamish stepped out. He stood like an explorer setting forth to conquer the unknown; tall in his dusty Akubra, denim shirt and jeans, and high-laced working boots. He carried a shiny red chainsaw in one hand, a plastic petrol can in the other. Then he smiled. His eyes enfolded her, held her. Since the day they’d first met in his office, she’d retrieved and drooled over her mental photograph of his face a hundred times, often in the small hours. Now it was really him. Her sleepless nights had come up with nothing to compare with the man who walked towards her, tools in hand. In the flesh. Again, she felt the rippling iron of his chest as he carried her up the beach in the merciful dark, pressing her shivering body against his. He was real, in a way no other man in her life had ever been real.
Certainly not Todd Archer. She looked at Hamish again, saw his real body, his real smile. This is him, she heard a small, clear voice saying deep inside her. This is the man you’ve waited for. Mr Right seemed a silly, girlish expression. She pictured the two of them, walking hand in hand through an imaginary forest, walking to the future. But now, this moment, she must do something, anything, to get back to reality. Another car coasted to a stop outside her gate.
‘Hi, Hamish. Your timing’s perfect.’ She glanced at the first arrival, who still stood expectantly with her bundle of tools. ‘Jenny wants to know where to start. Can you take charge?’
‘Sure. We’ll start Jenny on fireweed duty. You have a serious invasion a hundred metres down the slope from here.’ A fortyish couple walked in from the gate carrying another assortment of tools. ‘Great.’ Hamish waved to the new arrivals. ‘The Carters are here. Lantana specialists. Gary and Jean, would you like to attack that big lantana jungle over yonder?’ He pointed.
‘Sure,’ the man smiled. ‘We always work there when we come to Edna’s.’ He grinned at the confused Erin. ‘Oh, sorry. It’s yours now, Erin. Lovely lady, Edna. So much we’d love to tell you about her. Later, over our cuppa.’ The couple headed off, obedient slaves to foreman Hamish.
‘I’ll take on those fallen trees with my chainsaw,’ Hamish said between arrivals, waving an arm in the direction of a small forest. ‘They landed splat on some beautiful regrowth during our last storm. And you’ll be able to use the wood this winter.’ Erin didn’t remind him that she planned to be long gone by winter. ‘There’s nothing like a log fire,’ he said. ‘You can enjoy a warm house all winter and not use a gram of fossil fuel. Log fires are totally Green, believe it or not.’
As more workers trickled onto the lawn, Hamish sent them off to this or that chore. Erin saw that his team respected him. He was their leader, their friend. He was one of them, but with a passion that set him apart. She remembered snippets of weird conversation from their night at the Golden Dragon. Trees that talked. Forests that felt pain. He was in touch with the space around them, and people knew it and respected it. The frequency of arriving workers slowed. Hamish moved towards Erin.
‘The other night at the beach.’ He kept his voice low. ‘I want to apologise. It wasn’t me. I had no business doing…’ He turned away. ‘I feel bad about it. So — unprofessional.’
‘You lawyers,’ Erin heard herself saying. She forced a giggle. ‘Just forget about it. I was the guilty party. I pushed you into it.’ His face still wore the apologetic smile. ‘We…er…put it all to bed that night.’ she smiled. Why had she made such a dumb choice of words? ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s all done and —’
‘Daddy!’ The gate opened and Dwayne ran to his father, squealed with happiness as Hamish swung him off the ground, whirled him above his head, and hugged him. A young woman followed — barefoot, carrying a string bag. Draped in tie-dyes, skirt trailing the ground, a mess of dreadlocked hair falling across her face, she followed the little boy towards Hamish. She had to be Hamish’s partner.
Erin must maintain her cool, welcome the woman, hide any reaction. Then, as she watched Hamish collect a bag of toys from the woman’s car, she saw his face fall, his shoulders hunch. Hamish’s body language shouted defeat, resignation, pain. What lay behind that unlikely pairing? As the couple walked, Dwayne scampered beside them. He was their child and they loved him, she told herself. What else mattered? The little boy grabbed his father’s hand and Hamish swept him into the air again with a laugh.
‘Hey. Don’t chuck him about too much, Hamey,’ the woman said. ‘He just had his brekky.’ Hamish lowered Dwayne to the ground, patted his head as Erin watched from the shade of the cottage veranda. Any moment now, he’d introduce her to his partner. But he didn’t. He dropped the bags in the summerhouse, left the dreadlocked woman, and walked back to Erin.
‘Better get round to the troops and see if they need any help,’ he said. ‘Tools, plants, whatever.’ He followed a bunch of workers into the tangle of scrub behind the house. The woman caught Erin’s eye, then walked over.
‘Dwayne’s always hungry. Got any munchies? A bit of cake?’
‘Of course.’ Erin smiled. ‘On the table in the summerhouse.’ She led the way, flicked a muslin cloth off the food. Seconds later, mother and son attacked a pile of Anzac biscuits, then the Black Forest cake. Erin retreated. The array of yummies she’d carefully arranged for morning tea would be trashed by that pair in no time flat. She disappeared into the kitchen. Everyone except her had settled into the jobs Hamish had given them. It seemed he’d forgotten his hostess. What should she do? For a second, she felt abandoned, a lonely alien in the midst of a happy team.
‘Hi, Erin.’ She looked up. Hamish’s height all but blocked the light from the kitchen doorway. ‘Busy, are you?’
‘Well, no. Lost, more like it. What am I supposed to do?’
‘Like to come with me? Shoving a pile of dead branches around is a lot easier with two.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Great. Could you bring the wheelbarrow down?’ He pointed. ‘It’s in the woodshed.’ She detoured via the shed, found the barrow, and followed him down an overgrown path she’d never seen before. Soon she found the path blocked by a large fallen tree. She watched while he poured fuel into the chainsaw’s petrol tank, pulled on the starter rope, and steered the screaming chainsaw into the log lying in front of them. In a couple of minutes, he’d lopped off a bundle of branches. He stopped the motor. Erin silently thanked him. The noise was painful. He’d worn a safety helmet with earmuffs, but she hadn’t. She watched as he took off his helmet and stepped towards her.
‘These branches. We need to untangle them a bit. Make things safer. I’ll lift.’ He grabbed a branch, straining to ease it out from the tangle of other branches. ‘If you can push sideways.’ He waved his arm to show her how. ‘Now — heave.’ She pushed as he lifted. The tangle of branches creaked, but stayed tied together.
‘Nope. Can you come closer to me? Get better leverage.’ She moved her grip until she was literally rubbing shoulders with him. She caught the smell of petrol mixed with male sweat, felt the warmth of his body against hers. ‘Okay, once more with feeling,’ he grinned. ‘Now — heave.’ The branch slid out from the tangle. ‘Great! Now a couple more. Keep close to me.’ She found herself squatting between his arms as he reached down to get a grip on the next branch. ‘Now — heave.’ His arms closed round her and the branch moved. He looked down at her, smiled. Something inside her melted. She loved being close to this well-built, smiling man. Loved pushing alongside him as their bodies strained together, touching.
‘This is working well,’ he smiled. ‘A couple more branches and the pile should be pretty manageable. Think you can stand here —’ he gestured to a space between his arms, ‘and shove the bottom log to the left while I lift the top one?’ Between his arms? She was going to stand there while he put his arms round her and heaved on a log. She grinned inwardly, knowing she’d love every sensation — sight, sounds, smells, touching — as he strained to lift the heavy log. She slid into the narrow space, felt the warmth of his arms round her again. With her head against his chest, she heard him grunt as he lifted. Then with a heave, she eased her branch aside so it was no longer pinned by the log he strained to hold high.
‘Thanks,’ he said, lowering his log. His arms relaxed round her. He dropped the log and she stepped out from his embrace. ‘We’re a great team. You knew exactly when and where to shove.’ He straightened, retrieved the chainsaw. ‘Now I can get a bit of production going. Maybe you can toss the sawn bits into the barrow?’
‘Sure. Junior woodcutter Spenser reporting for duty,’ she grinned. There was something easy, fun, about working up close and personal with the tall, broad-shouldered man who was master of his little world. He flicked the chainsaw into action and sawed away, branch by branch, until there was a small mountain of wood for her to collect.
For the next hour she wheeled the loaded barrow back and forth to the woodshed while Hamish worked the saw. The pile in the shed grew. Though dollars to donuts she’d be gone before winter, she pictured herself sitting beside her fireplace on a wintry night, stoking these same logs into the fire. Then she saw empty dinner plates on the table, Hamish sitting beside her, smiling at her, tanned face glowing in the flicker of the burning logs. Stop it! she ordered herself yet again. The man has a partner and a child!
Around eleven, the team materialised from the bush surrounding the garden and headed for the summerhouse. Erin had managed to smooth the trail of destruction left across the finger food by Dwayne and his mother. She watched as the pair wandered away from the summerhouse to sit on the lawn. From the corner of her eye, she saw them munch their way through the pile of goodies they’d stolen from the table. The workers took their seats in the summerhouse. As Erin poured tea and passed cakes, people welcomed her to their little community.
‘Lovely sponge, Erin. Every bit as good as Edna’s.’
‘Glad to have someone as nice as you taking over from Edna, Erin. We were worried the place might go to some developer. Some Sydney dude who’d bulldoze everything in five minutes flat.’
‘We’d love to help you with your flower garden after you settle in, Erin. Edna used to have a lovely display in the front garden, all year round.’
Erin flinched. Now was not a good time to tell them she’d sell the place the minute she could; that her mother might die before winter. She watched Hamish as he sat with his coffee, talking, pointing, surrounded by his fan club. Glancing outside, she saw Hamish’s partner pull a packet from her bag and make a roll-your-own cigarette. Then she lit it and lay on the grass, smoking as her son played beside her. A few people threw her a polite hello, smiled at Dwayne, but it was obvious the woman was on the outer with the team. How could that be, when Hamish was the centre of attention, the acknowledged leader?
‘Okay, gang.’ Hamish looked at his watch. ‘That’s twenty minutes. Let’s get back to it.’ He turned towards Erin. Need any help with lunch?’
‘No, but thanks.’
‘Great. We’ll magically reappear at one, then.’ Erin braced herself for the next miracle, hoping lunch would be as successful as morning tea. She cleared the mountain of cups and plates and headed for the kitchen. There was soup to be heated, quiches to be warmed, a huge bowl of salad to be tossed, and meat to be organised for the barbeque.
As she put the final touches to the lunch table, the workers meandered in, downed tools, took their seats. She threw an assortment of meat onto the barbeque, then watched as the hungry workers stacked food onto their plates. Dwayne and his mother had disappeared. Probably bored, she’d taken her child home. The long lunch ended. People began to drift off. It had been a good day for the property, but a terrible day for Erin’s heart. It had begun with Hamish’s whispered apology, and ended with her falling back under his spell.
‘I’m going to help you with the dishes, Erin.’ Jenny Receptionist gathered a pile of dirty plates and headed for the kitchen.
‘Thanks Jenny, but I’ll be fine,’ Erin said. ‘You’ve worked hard enough already.’
‘No, love. I always helped Edna clean up. Might as well stick with tradition,’ Jenny insisted. ‘You can reciprocate when the Landcare gang comes to my place.’
‘Well, thanks.’ Erin could hardly tell Jenny about her plans to sell. She began to wash up while Jenny dried.
‘What did you think of Honey, then?’ Jenny asked.
‘Honey?’
‘Hamish’s partner. With the dreadlocks.’
‘Mmm. I rather wondered.’
‘There’s a story there. As you might imagine.’ Jenny’s grin spoke volumes. Now Erin saw why she’d chosen to stay behind and help.
‘I’d be interested to hear it.’ Erin winced in advance at what she might now learn about Hamish. It would be best to know the truth, then deal with it.
‘The Biggses.’ Jenny drew a long breath. ‘Honey is a Biggs. They’ve lived in these parts for generations. Like Hamish’s family. The two farms lie pretty much next to each other.’ Jenny waved towards the hills. ‘But talk about chalk and cheese. The Bourkes — hard working, organised. Lovely property. It’s been nurtured and loved for a hundred years. Those Biggses, the opposite. A disaster. Ernie, Honey’s father — he’s run their farm for the last twenty years — a drunk. Raeleen, her mother — run off her feet with kids. We don’t think they’ve found out yet what causes ‘em. Honey was the baby of the family. A pretty little girl, but what hope did she have?’
‘But how did Hamish —’
‘I’m coming to that, dear.’ Jenny had a story to tell, and she wasn’t about to be rushed. ‘As a little kid, Hamish was bright. Didn’t fit in at the local school. Shy. A loner. After high school, he went to study law at Sydney University. But as the old saying goes, you can take the boy out of the country, but —’
‘You can’t take the country out of the boy.’ Erin added, signalling to Jenny that she got the picture.
‘From what Nellie — that’s Hamish’s mum — told me,’ Jenny continued, ‘Hamish’s years at university were more of the same. The shy loner, the nerdy type who burned the midnight oil over his books while others partied. Apparently he had a couple of short disastrous romances with girls in his classes, but nothing permanent. When he came back to The Bay on vacations, he’d stay home at nights. Licking his wounds, Nellie said.’
‘Anyway, Hamish finished his law degree and came home. Oh, and a degree in environmental science as well. For the fun of it, he told us, rather than to get a job. As luck would have it, he picked up the local law practice from an old-timer desperate to retire. Well, then,’ Jenny spread her hands wide, ‘Hamish’s hormones started to bloom like a garden of spring flowers. I could see it. I came with the practice he’d just bought, so I worked with him in the office from day one. At weekends, he had time on his hands. He got back into surfing, working on his parents’ property, breathing the country air. Then he decided to look for a nice girl. He’d hang out at any likely place, from the local church to the monthly Friday night movie at the School of Arts. Nothing happened. He found the nice girls were all solidly engaged to nice guys.’
‘But what about Honey?’ Erin couldn’t stifle her curiosity for another second.
‘Patience, dear.’ Jenny picked up the old iron pot from the sink and began to scrub it, lovingly, slowly. ‘Okay then, Honey. She’d stumbled through Luna Bay Primary a year behind Hamish. For most of their schooling, they shared the same school bus, killed time together every weekday morning while they waited for the bus on their corner. Then walked home together every afternoon after they left the bus stop.
Honey dropped out of high school the minute she was legally allowed — the same as her brothers and sisters had done before her. When Hamish came home for university vacations, he’d have noticed that Honey had blossomed. On the fourth Saturday of the month — that’s Luna Bay’s market day — Honey would cruise the main street. All the young things do — wearing tight blouses with lots of cleavage, and those terrible flared skirts, far too short, in those hideous clashing colours. It seems Hamish spotted her, exchanged a word now and again.
Then one evening she dragged him to the Bay Hotel, Luna’s one and only watering hole — but you’d know that, Erin. Well then, knowing Honey, knowing her family, you wouldn’t wonder that she sometimes drank a bit too much. So Hamish probably did too. Marvellous what a drink or two can do for a shy boy.’ A picture of Hamish flashed into Erin’s mind — shy, lonely, unhappy, snubbed by the some in the community since he’d become what the locals called ‘educated.’
‘Anyway, it seems Hamish took to dropping into The Bay Hotel of a Friday night. As we locked up the office at five, he’d often tell me he was heading up there. Probably taking a chance on meeting Honey again, I thought to myself. And soon enough, he did. Then the news got about. They were dating. It was coming into summer. You can imagine what happened in the back seat of Hamish’s car. On those warm spring nights after an hour or three in the pub. Next thing, Honey was in the family way. And the word got round town that it was Hamish’s doing. He didn’t deny it. One day at the office he let me in on the secret everyone knew.
“Jenny,” he told me. “I offered to marry her, but she said she didn’t really want to — not yet, anyway. What should I do?”
“Leave it to your instincts,” I said. “You’re a decent young man.” Jenny put the well-scrubbed iron pot on the stove, then stood, hands on hips.
‘So Hamish did the honourable thing by the folk of Luna Bay, the Biggs family, and his parents. He moved Honey into the house he’d just bought, started stocking up on prams, cots, the lot. Then Dwayne arrived — lovely baby, he was. Grinning and cooing at you every time you looked into the pram. Then he took to being a bit colicky. Honey weaned him too quickly, the girls said. Couldn’t be bothered with the breastfeeding thing, they were saying. And you know what a colicky baby’s like, Erin? They just yell round the clock. I’d say that was a pretty big nail in the coffin for Hamish and Honey’s relationship. Honey just seemed to buckle, went back to doing Friday nights at the pub. Then we started hearing she was spending time with other men. The Biggses are like that, Erin. Have always been like that.
‘But trust our Hamish. Decent to the end. He rented the cottage across the road from his house and moved in. We reckon he was sending Honey the message that their relationship was over — in the bedroom department, I mean. But Hamish wanted to keep up his share of parenting. He took to spending Friday nights at home alone with Dwayne. They said that since Hamish didn’t have a partner to love, he channelled that love onto Dwayne. You can just see it. Every day he loves his son more. Since the little boy was only weeks old, Hamish has been buying things for him. Things like sensible toys. To help those little fingers coordinate, Hamish told me. Develop his brain.’
Erin swallowed back a tear. The day they’d met on the cliff-top walk, she’d seen how the fair-haired little boy with the wistful smile worshipped his father. She glanced at Jenny, saw that she was merely pausing for breath. There was more to come.
‘People said it was lucky that Dwayne had inherited his father’s brains rather than his mother’s. And Hamish realised this pretty early on. He teaches Dwayne everything from toddler puzzles to the first steps of reading — started when Dwayne was barely three. And you should watch the way Hamish manages Dwayne’s diet. Feeds him healthy food to offset the packaged junk his mother slips him whenever she feels like it.’
‘Hasn’t Hamish…cast an eye around the village lately?’ Erin wondered aloud. ‘This Anna Kershaw woman. I saw the two of them the other day. Very cosy.’
‘Anna? He minds her cat when she travels overseas. That’s about as cosy as it gets. She’ll be in the US for a few months, he was telling me. Forget about Ms Kershaw, Erin. She’s not his type. At all. A city girl to the tips of those ridiculous heels she wears.’ Jenny paused, looked into Erin’s face.
‘He’s faithful to Honey,’ Jenny said. ‘To the point of stupidity, I’d say.’ Jenny kept smiling directly at Erin. It seemed that she wanted to go on playing big sister.
‘But that said, Erin,’ she continued after a pause for breath, ‘you’ll have noticed Hamish isn’t short on hormones. The way his eyes wandered all over you that day you came to the office.’
‘Really?’ Erin would act innocent, draw Jenny out.
‘Didn’t you notice?’ The older woman smiled, sceptical.
‘Um, well since you ask, I did rather sense…something.’ Erin would choose her words like a quilter choosing her cottons. ‘I thought he was interested to meet the new owner of my grandmother’s place. I mean, he had a sentimental connection with the property.’ It wasn’t the right time to tell Jenny about the lifesaver who’d dragged her from the rip off Luna Bay twelve years before.
‘Hamish would be a great catch.’ Jenny continued. ‘For a girl who wants…depth. He’s so intense about what he believes in. Caring for the land, being there for his son. Keeping an eye out for his parents. They’re getting on a bit these days. Clem — that’s Hamish’s father — he has a gammy leg now. Can’t get around the property like he used to. And Nellie’s had blood pressure for years. Hamish loves to spend time on the farm when he can. A few hours on the tractor, a bit of chainsawing, fencing. After a weekend on the property, he bounces into the office on a Monday looking ten years younger.’
‘The dishes are all but done,’ Erin said, wondering if she should give her helper a chance to drop the subject. ‘Would you like to come and sit on the veranda?’ But Jenny was not to be put off. She picked up a cloth and began wiping down the bench, the stove.
‘We really don’t know what to do about Hamish,’ she said. ‘He just won’t leave Honey. He lets it all wash over him. Pays the bills, mows the lawn. And, you know, no one’s ever heard him say a word against her. The best we ever got out of him was “All relationships have their ups and downs. I’m in this for the long haul.” We all wish he’d find someone compatible. Someone who’d really appreciate his worth. Did you see how the Landcare gang just worshipped him today?’
‘I did.’ Jenny’s saga of Hamish’s tortured relationship had stunned Erin. She struggled to digest her new insights into his life, the handcuffs that held him to Honey. He’d as good as told her, in his passionate reaction to her kiss, that he was a normal red-blooded male. Why would he go on holding a torch for a woman who’d hurt him so many times — would go on hurting him? It was time to change the subject.
‘Hamish told me about Landcare a few weeks ago, then promptly set up my working bee,’ Erin said. ‘He did seem in his element today. It made me think of Napoleon directing a battle. Except that he didn’t exactly stand on a hilltop with his hand in his jacket.’
‘And everyone did a wonderful job.’ Jenny burbled on. ‘They just love your property. Don’t you dare sell it!’
An hour later, Jenny began to collect her things. Erin followed her to the door, grabbing a broom on the way. She’d give the summerhouse a quick going-over.
Now that Erin had seen Hamish’s partner in the flesh, heard his life story from Jenny, she understood him better. However things might appear on the surface, Hamish would be faithful to Honey. He would love her with that deep, despairing love you saw in the sombre-faced heroes who starred in old movies and turgid romantic novels. As she and Hamish had kissed in the dark during that oh-so-romantic night at the beach, she’d tasted a flash of his passion. Then, a second later, he’d told her it was all a mistake. She must respect Hamish for his principles — the very principles that put him out of reach. Whenever Erin met him around town in future, she’d be polite and nothing more.
Alone in the backyard, Erin looked over her newly tidy garden, a mountain of pulled weeds, and a stack of firewood in the woodshed. She’d submerge herself in forget-about-Hamish therapy. The thought of him still gave her something deeper than goosebumps, and a lot more tingly — rather like a jab to the heart. The afternoon sun disappeared early under a bank of heavy grey clouds that sat like a frown above the Pembroke escarpment. The ocean sulked under the grey skies. It would rain that evening. At dusk, she took a glass of wine onto the veranda, listened to the light rain whispering onto the iron roof.
Hamish, the guy she could truly love, was not available. If she sold Lovers’ Lookout, he’d hate her forever. If she married Todd, she’d lock herself into a life so horrible she could barely think about it. Her sick mother needed money fast, or she might die. And the ways of raising that money — both too dreadful to think about. She must find a path through the tangle of complications that had lately grown over her life like the rampant weeds invading the native flora of Lovers’ Lookout.
That night, after too many sleepless hours, she slid into a nightmare. As she wandered through the dark catacombs of some ancient European city, she kept brushing by one or other of the characters who’d thrown her life into chaos. Hamish strolled into the dark ahead of her, almost lost in the gloom. Then her mother’s face smiled sadly from a shady recess to the left. Todd beamed an aggressive smile at her as he brushed past, evidently chasing Hamish. Haughty journalist Anna Kershaw walked towards her, face wreathed with a triumphant grin.
After too many of these painful encounters, Erin stood at a fork in the dark tunnel, confused, lost, needy. Why didn’t someone take her hand and lead her upwards to the friendly light?
She woke in the small hours, tired and defeated.