The dart flew past Jonesy’s ear and landed with a thwack, wedging itself in a stuffed trout mounted on the wall.
‘Bloody hell, Webster,’ Jonesy said, ducking his head, ‘the bloody dartboard’s over there, you crazy woman!’ He turned his palms upwards towards the old ceiling of the pub. ‘Can’t an honest working man even have a quiet beer after he’s bent over the stinking backsides of six hundred wethers all day?’
Kate poked out her tongue at him and sulked off, perching one buttock on the bar stool. She banged the bar, waiting for Jason or Bev to come and serve her.
All afternoon, Kate had tried to blot out Janie’s words. She had almost followed Janie and the children to the house, but all the emotions boiling away inside her triggered her old instinct to run. She’d left in a white-hot fury. Mostly angry at herself. But at the time, she wanted to prove to them all that she would leave. Leave and never come back. Before she knew it, Kate had found herself in the ute, speeding down the highway. Chased by demons of guilt as she put more and more distance between herself and Nell. She kept having flashbacks of the miserable look on Nell’s face, crumpled with tiredness, uncertainty in her eyes over her mother’s mood.
Kate had had enough of herself. She wanted to lose herself again. She toyed with the vision of slamming the ute into a tree at a hundred clicks. To be finished with her life. But she knew she could never do that to Nell. She would never leave her. It made the act of driving away from her even worse.
At the pub Kate drowned her sad truths with defiance and drinking. To keep her mind off Nell, she steadily worked her way through songs she knew that contained drinks in the lyrics. She’d started off by sifting through the CDs on the jukebox, forcing a sense of fun upon her self-destructive binge. Her first song choice was ‘Long Neck Bottle’ by Garth Brooks.
As the pub’s brightly lit CD machine came to life, she watched Jason, the halfwit, clink the metal top from a long neck of beer and push it her way. By the time the song had ended she’d nearly downed the entire contents of the tall brown glass bottle. Next, she ordered Jason to line up two pina coladas followed by a Captain Morgan as the crooning tones of another Garth Brooks song washed over the pub. Then she’d tackled Cold Chisel’s ‘Cheap Wine’ and had worked her way through half a bottle of Passion Pop, until she could bear the sickly sweet liquid no more.
And now Jason was standing at the bar looking at Kate and the wall simultaneously with his wonky eyes as he asked, ‘What is it this time?’
‘One bourbon, one scotch and one beer,’ Kate said, slurring her words a little.
‘Ah! George Thoroughgood,’ said Jason.
‘Geez! You know your music. You should go on Spicks & Specks. You really are smarter than you look, eh?’ she said, winking at him.
‘Thanks,’ he said, reaching up for the bourbon. ‘Lots of people tell me that.’
Jonesy, with enough beers under his belt now for courage, sidled up to the bar and sat on the stool next to Kate. He leant on his elbows and looked at her with a cheeky, white-toothed grin. His sleeves were rolled up, he was freshly showered after his day in the shed, and the summer sun had turned the skin of his forearms a deep brown.
‘Having a big one?’
‘Are you offering a big one?’ Kate said.
Jonesy sized her up. He could see she’d been here a while. That edge of wildness was there again … the edge she’d had, he recalled, when he’d seen her a few years back at the B&S. He turned to Jason and said, ‘I’ll have what she’s having.’
An hour later Kate and Jonesy, rolling drunk from playing George Thoroughgood three times over, were keen for a round of pool. They spent several minutes fishing around in their pockets for coins.
‘I know I’ve got a little gold bugger in here somewhere,’ Kate said, jamming her hand into her pocket and grimacing.
‘Here, I’ll have a go,’ Jonesy said. He tried to wedge his thick shearer’s hand into her jeans. Kate spluttered with laughter when his hand got stuck. They swung about the room together.
‘Stop trying to get into my pants, Jonesy!’
‘You’ve been wanting me to get into your pants all night.’
‘Bull! I have not! There’s not enough room in there for you. Now git!’ She hauled out his hand and at the same time a two-dollar coin came toppling out.
‘Ah! There’s the little bastard!’
Kate bent down to pick it up.
‘Nice view,’ Jonesy said, eyeing her backside appreciatively. Kate, too drunk to hear him, put the coins into the pool table slot. The balls clattered loudly as they fell out onto the tray.
‘Your shot or mine?’
‘Ladies first,’ Jonesy said.
Kate set the white ball onto the dot on the table. She spread her fingertips on the green that lay like a miniature bowls lawn beneath the bright low-slung light. She unsteadily cracked the white with the cue so that it veered left, missing the clustered triangle of coloured balls. It sank with a plonk into the hole of the corner pocket.
‘Bugger!’
‘That’s not how you hold a cue.’ Jonesy stepped towards her. ‘Didn’t you learn anything at that fancy ag college? Here.’ He took her hands and positioned them on the cue, then bent her over the table. Kate focused on the blue-chalked tip as Jonesy moved her hands.
‘Stroke it nice and gentle,’ he said, his warm breath in her ear.
‘What? Are you talking about your balls? Or your big stick?’ Kate spluttered.
‘Concentrate or I’ll bite you.’ She felt his teeth wrap over her ear.
‘Ouch!’ Kate turned to face him and they began to wrestle. Jonesy had his arms around her and was now pretending to chew off her ear. Kate was screaming and laughing.
She was enjoying this. Bugger what Janie said about Nell and talking to her father about Bronty. Bugger Nick and Felicity. Bugger everything. Life felt fun again, for a change. Jonesy was a nice bloke, and if she shut her eyes while he wrestled her, she could pretend he was Will. The way they used to muck about when they were younger, before their mum died. She tried to get Jonesy in a headlock but he was too strong. He clasped her wrists and pinned her down to the table, her back pressed against the soft green cloth. When she stopped laughing, she looked up into his eyes. Her smile faded when she saw the desire on Jonesy’s face. As he bent to kiss her, breathing heavily, she turned her head sharply away.
And found herself staring straight at Nick. He was standing tall and straight-backed at the bar, a newly poured beer in front of him, untouched. Kate watched as a look of recognition came to his face, then shocked hurt. By the time Kate pushed Jonesy off her and ran through the bar and out into the street, Nick was getting into his ute. He wouldn’t look at her as he revved the engine.
‘We were just having fun!’ Kate shouted as she ran towards him. ‘Nick?’
He looked up at her. Hurt on his face.
‘We were just mucking around. It’s nothing.’
‘Didn’t look like it,’ Nick said.
Kate reached out and touched his arm. He jerked it away.
‘I was on my way to Janie’s to talk to you,’ he said. ‘But it’s clearly not the time.’
‘But, Nick …’
He dropped the clutch and revved away. Kate watched the red of his tail-lights flare as he slowed round the corner, then sped onto the highway and away into the night.
‘Well, what about you?’ she yelled after him. ‘You and your bloody blonde nurse!’ A solo barking dog was the only reply.
When she stepped back into the pub, Kate felt suddenly sober.
‘Didn’t touch his beer,’ Jason said. ‘You might as well have it, Kate.’ He slid the drink towards her. ‘Still, can’t blame him. He’s the fella whose old man just topped himself. Did you hear?’
Kate sat down on the edge of a table. Colour drained from her face. ‘He didn’t kill himself, all right?’ she snapped. ‘It was an accident.’
‘C’mon,’ Jonesy said. ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘No, mate. You’ve done enough for me tonight. And you’re too pissed.’
‘Well, whose fault is that?’ he asked, frustrated with her.
‘Mine,’ she said moodily. ‘It’s all my fault. Everything is always my bloody fault.’
The next morning Kate woke up with her skull feeling like it would split. She vowed to make it up to Janie and Nick … and especially to Nell. As she lay in bed, still in her rank-smelling T-shirt from the night before, she resolved to babysit the twins so Janie could rest. She’d even cook her a big batch of stew. Then, she’d ring Nick and ask him over, or offer to help him somehow on the farm.
She threw back the covers and staggered into the shower. Memories from the day before came flashing back. She cringed as she recalled the look of lust on Jonesy’s face. The hurt on Nick’s. She remembered getting a lift home in a stinking ute with one of the local possum and roo shooters, the alcohol and bitter smell of possum making her retch from his window. His gappy-toothed mate following behind in her ute, telling her when they arrived it needed a wheel alignment. Then with a jolt she remembered the phone call she’d made mid-afternoon from the pub.
‘Cripes!’ she said to herself as the fog of her hangover cleared momentarily. During her drunkenness she’d phoned a banking colleague in Hobart. She remembered talking to him animatedly on her mobile while kicking stones on the road outside the pub. She had raved on to him about her farm proposal and the sale of her family farm – how she needed advice on the purchase of it. Could she come and see him? Now she recalled, albeit foggily, she had an eleven o’clock appointment with him in Hobart – today.
Still dripping, wrapped in her bathrobe, Kate rushed to the office to see if her memory was correct. There, scattered on the floor, were the pages of her whole farm plan and farm budget. She’d fed the entire document through the fax at midnight last night. And what’s more, scribbled a cover note: Thanks Colin for dropping everything to talk to me. Here’s my WFP, for your perusal before our meeting at eleven today, Kate.
Phew, she thought, that wasn’t too unprofessional. But as she picked up the last page, she grimaced. She’d drawn some hugs and kisses and a smiley face on the bottom, then written Onya Col-baby!
She glanced at the clock above her desk. She sighed, knowing she’d have to beg Janie to keep Nell a little longer at her house.
Kate picked up the phone. Her mouth went dry at the prospect of speaking to Janie, who had every right to be absolutely furious with her. She set the phone down again. As she did, she noticed the McDonnell file lying on her desktop. On the spur of the moment she dialled Nick’s number, punching in the digits quickly, before she changed her mind. She bit her lip as it began to ring. But the phone clicked onto the machine and Kate heard Alice’s crisp, light voice.
‘Alice, Lance and Nick aren’t available at present. You’ll have to make do with a message …’ Hearing Lance’s name, Kate shut her eyes. Death was still so fresh. She hung up, not game to let her voice wander through the sadness of the huge empty old homestead.
Nausea swamping her, Kate picked up the phone again and quickly dialled Dave and Janie’s number before she chickened out.
‘Hello?’ came Dave’s voice. She could hear him still chewing as he scoffed down his breakfast cereal.
‘It’s only me.’
‘Only you? Ah. Not only you to someone. You’ve got a little girl here who keeps asking when her mummy is coming back. What shall I tell her, Kate? Have you finished your bender? Because Janie and I assumed that’s where you went. To the pub. That’s your normal pattern, isn’t it, Kate?’
She shut her eyes in shame.
‘Can I speak to Janie please?’ she asked quietly.
She heard Dave put down the phone. As she waited, she listened to the clattering of the family as they busied themselves with breakfast. The sound of the twins thumping their highchairs with cups was underscored by Nell’s commands. Her little voice barking instructions to them.
‘No, Brendan! Naughty! No. Put it down. No!’
God, Kate thought, horrified, hearing her own aggressive tone in Nell’s voice. It was like gaining insight into her soul. Into her whole being.
‘Jasmine. Stop it!’ came Nell’s bossing voice again.
‘Hi,’ said Janie above the din. ‘You could come over and talk to me face to face, you know. We’re only two hundred metres away.’
‘I know. I’m gutless. I’m sorry.’
Kate felt a hollow silence on the line. She thought of her little girl, abandoned. She couldn’t leave her with Janie any longer. It wasn’t fair on Nell. It wasn’t fair on Janie. She’d totally overstepped the mark. Nell would just have to come too and Colin would have to cop it. She breathed in.
‘I’m coming now,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll pick her up.’
‘Good,’ said Janie, and hung up in her ear.