Hobart sparkled with summer light as Kate and Nell drove in from the eastern shore. Yachts with white triangular sails flew along on the blue water of the Derwent. They clustered like flocks of seagulls and caught the eyes of motorists on the bridge. Kate slowed to merge into the traffic, pointing out glimpses of the landscape to Nell as she drove their dirty twin-cab towards Hobart’s heart. The bush on the steep hillsides framed squat grey buildings on the river’s edge. Above it all, Mount Wellington lay in the sunshine like a giant lion, dozing.
Kate remembered driving into the city with her mother and Will, to the Regatta or the Royal Hobart Show, or for Christmas shopping. She never remembered her father being with them on those trips. Kate had always assumed he hadn’t wanted to come. But maybe it had been the pressures of running the farm – especially in the busy summer season – that had kept him at home. As Kate took in the beauty of the harbourside city, she wondered if he, like many farming men, found it hard to take the time off. But if he’d chosen to put the land ahead of his children, why was he now selling up that land? Kate suddenly felt a sadness for him for his loss of Laney. She now knew what it was like to love someone utterly. She felt Nick within her every minute, and the thought that she might never have a chance at a life with him left her feeling hollow. Starved.
Kate began to see now that Annabelle was not a replacement of Laney. Laney had been ‘the one’ for her father, his soulmate. Annabelle came nowhere near her. Although her father didn’t know it, Kate could now see Annabelle was just a filler. A desperate grab for happiness. Her father wasn’t putting Annabelle ahead of his own daughter, Kate suddenly realised. He was simply trying to survive a loss so great, it overshadowed everything in life. A loss that would consume him if he didn’t make a decision to move on. Kate saw that both she and the farm itself were now excruciatingly painful reminders of everything he had lost. Without the family, the farm no longer meant a future to Henry Webster. It just pierced him with hurt from the bitter past. He had lost a wife, lost a son, and through a set of circumstances created mostly by Kate herself, he had lost a daughter. She remembered him laughing with Nell in the shearing shed. Because of her stubbornness, he’d lost a granddaughter too. She thought of him calling her over the past few weeks. The way she’d cut him off. She realised in horror how much her own actions had created this situation. The sale of the farm was simply a reaction by Henry. An act of devastation. An act of deep hurt.
Immersed in her thoughts, Kate drove on, past the leafy green gardens of Government House and the black and white heifers that grazed its paddocks on the fringes of the CBD. She glanced at her watch. She had ten minutes before the meeting with the banker. She put the indicator on, slipping beneath the green sign that read ‘city’. She swore under her breath and quickly changed lanes. What do I think I’m doing? As if a banker would take her modest income and her two hundred thousand as a serious starter for a bid on Bronty. She berated herself for being such an idiot. She looked at Nell in the rear-vision mirror. She had been squinting out the window towards the Derwent, watching the yachts and boats dotting the water. Kate pulled over suddenly to the side of the road. She scrolled down the list on her phone and found the banker’s number, then pressed dial.
‘Colin?’ she said when she had him on the line. ‘Sorry to muck you about, but can we cancel our appointment?’
‘Certainly,’ he said, slightly bemused. ‘You want to make another time?’
‘No. I don’t think that’s necessary. Thank you all the same.’
The shop smelt musky and was noisy from cheeping birds that flittered about in cages at the back of the store. Goldfish swam about, orange and black blobs moving through clear water. Bubbles rose up from the helmets of tiny plastic divers and freshwater snails pressed their sluggy suctioned feet to the glass. Holding Nell’s hand, Kate ushered her gently past colourful dog leads and brushes into the heart of the shop.
They stood before a cage in which a tumble of kittens frolicked about in shredded newspaper. A short-haired tabby with a cheeky white face. A ginger tom with attitude. Another tabby as drab as a winter’s day, with a personality to match, and a tortoiseshell having a hissy spat with its similarly splodgy sibling.
‘Which one would you like, Nell?’ Kate said. Nell’s eyes were bright with excitement as she watched the kittens. She jiggled on the spot. Her tongue protruded in concentration as she gazed through the glass.
‘That one,’ she said eventually, pointing.
‘Which one?’
‘The sleepy one.’
‘Where?’ Kate asked, peering at the commotion of cats.
‘That border-collie one at the back.’ Kate followed Nell’s gaze. There, nestled deep within the newspaper shreds, was a black and white ball of fur, curled up so tight it looked like a pompom.
‘It’s not a border collie, Nell. It’s a kitten.’
‘It’s a border-collie kitten,’ she insisted.
‘All right, Nell, we’ll take it then.’ Kate laughed, tears in her eyes. ‘The border-collie kitten.’
Nell leapt up and down and flung her arms around Kate.
‘Thank you, Mummy! Thank you! I love you!’
The worn, pockmarked faces of the sandstone buildings of Salamanca Place rose up beside Kate and Nell as they dodged their way through the lunchtime crowd. Kate took comfort in the feeling of Nell’s small hand pressed warmly into her own. The kitten was now happily asleep in a new cat cage in the ute, the windows slightly open and the ute parked in the shade. Kate was now on a mission to find Nell the biggest ice-cream she could before taking a walk past the fishing boats that bobbed gently on their moorings at the docks.
They passed people clustered in the shade of umbrellas, fanning themselves with menus. Kate thought of her father, and of Nick. How would both of them be feeling at this moment? One grieving the loss of his father, the other grieving the loss of a son – and the anger of a daughter. If only she’d had enough faith in herself to know they both needed her in their lives. Nell, too. Kate vowed she’d get in touch with them both, to make a clearing for a fresh start, move on from the past and the mistakes she had made. But first, Kate was going to give Nell the best day of her life so far.
Kate led Nellie out of the clear light of the day into the darkness of an old warehouse café. People in fashionable town clothes sipped at lattes and read the mainland papers against the backdrop of hand-chipped convict stone. Kate looked around for a place to sit. The only empty seats were two metallic stools standing at the bench that ran the length of the front window and was stacked with glossy magazines. Kate heaved Nell up onto one stool, then clambered up on the other one herself, tugging down her skirt as she tried to extract her mobile from her bag. She looked at the phone’s blank screen. No messages. If only she had a mobile number for Nick. He might even be in town right now, she thought, arranging his father’s funeral. As she began to plug Rutherglen’s number into the tiny grey screen, a lean, clean-cut waiter with a goatee brought a menu to her.
‘Can I get you a drink to start?’ he asked, taking in the pretty dark-haired girl in the short skirt and the funny little girl who was already fiddling with the long paper sachets of sugar.
‘Just water, thanks, for me, and a lemonade for Nell here,’ Kate said. ‘And the biggest, fanciest ice-cream you have. No. Make that two big fancy ice-creams.’
Later, with the empty bowls before them, Nell and Kate took turns at sighing.
‘Ah! Yum,’ Kate sighed.
‘Ah! Yum!’ Nell mimicked.
Kate reached for her bag and shoved a twenty-dollar note under the bill. ‘Do you want a drink of water before we get back to your border-collie kitten?’ Nell nodded. ‘Stay here for Mum, then,’ Kate said as she slipped off the tall stool and headed to the water cooler.
Kate was about to fill two glasses when she stopped in amazement. There, stepping out of the glare of the summer’s day, was Aden. He wore skate pants and runners and a trendy-again short-sleeved shirt. His hair was buzz-cut and gelled up. Beside him, looking like a nervous deer, stood Felicity. She was wearing a floaty white summer dress with thin straps tied in bows at the shoulders. Her long, bare limbs were bronzed and shining. Her blonde hair fell loose and straight over her shoulders.
Kate froze beside the water cooler, trying hopelessly to blend in with the art-house posters on the walls. She watched as Aden placed his hand in the small of Felicity’s back and ushered her deeper into the long dark cave of the café. God! When had they hooked up? Questions flew in Kate’s mind. Then she remembered the Rouseabout. Aden looking so swish, Felicity so shiny. Her hasty departure. Kate smiled as it dawned on her that Aden must’ve ‘rescued’ Felicity that night. So, if Aden was taking Felicity out, then surely, she reasoned, surely things really were over between her and Nick? Kate didn’t wait to see them settled at a table. She grabbed her bag, took hold of Nell, and dashed for the door. She had to find Nick. But first, she had to speak to her dad.
Squinting from the brightness of the day, Kate walked quickly in the direction of her ute, which was parked under the leafy elms flanking Parliament House. Nell toddled next to her, equally eager to get back to see her kitten. Kate’s mind raced from the sight of Aden and Felicity together – and what their pairing might mean.
They were almost to the ute when a stand outside the newsagent’s caught her eye. Stacked up in a white plastic-coated wire basket were the real-estate property guides. On the front cover was the sweeping crescent bay of Bronty. Inset was a picture of the low weatherboard homestead, half covered by the blooming white rose and framed with a lush garden. The headline read, ‘Once in a lifetime coastal dreamscape.’
Strong Tasmanian sunshine stung the back of Kate’s neck. People moved past her in a blur. She stood. Staring. Her hand grasping Nell’s. She couldn’t bring herself to pick the paper up and open it.
Kate exhaled heavily. She had to talk to her father. She had to see him now.
The sea beyond Bronty had never looked so blue. Kate pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes as the dazzle of light played on the water. She could barely glance at the beach, it was such a pure white. Kate turned into the Bronty driveway and deliberately avoided looking at the large ugly ‘For Sale’ sign. She sped over the grid.
On the two and a half hour drive from Hobart she’d rehearsed her speech over and over in her mind, while Nell slept. She knew what she wanted to say to her father, yet still her thoughts swirled in her head. She checked Nell in the back. Still asleep. The kitten, too.
As she opened the door of the ute, the heat of the day swamped her. She was about to walk into the garden when she sensed movement in the sheds. She saw her father standing in the shadows, hands on hips, watching her through narrowed eyes. Was he scowling, or squinting at the sun? She couldn’t tell. Kate reached into the ute, pulled her Bronty whole farm plan from the seat, wound the windows down for Nell and the kitten and walked over to him. She tried to carry her head high and look directly at him, but she felt like a little girl again.
When she stepped into the shade of the shed, she took in how handsome her father looked. Lean and strong.
‘I’m here to see you about the farm,’ she said.
‘I’ve been trying to ring.’ Her father’s voice was tense.
‘Yes. I’ve …’ she began. ‘Will and I … we …’ Kate stopped and held out the folder towards him. ‘We’d been working on a few ideas. It’s all in here.’
Henry looked at the folder but didn’t reach for it. ‘Kate,’ he said wearily. ‘Annabelle and I have made up our minds.’
‘About what?’
‘You know. I’ve been trying to tell you in person. But you clearly don’t want a bar of it. Of us.’
Kate stared at the ground.
‘I know. I’ve messed up. I’m sorry. But I do want a bar of it. I do! It’s just … I’ve been so … angry.’ Her rehearsed talk forgotten, all Kate could feel was emotion. She stepped towards him. ‘Just look at the plans, Dad. Please. I’ve figured it out, we can do this together. It’s what Mum wanted to do all along.’ At the mention of Laney, Kate saw Henry stiffen.
‘Don’t you think it’s a little too late for this?’ he asked bitterly. ‘We’ve made up our minds.’
Kate felt panic rising in her. It came out as anger. ‘Don’t I get a say?’
‘Kate, until now you’ve never wanted a say. You took off and left the farm to Will and me to run.’
‘That’s not true! You knew I was at Maureen’s. You could’ve come.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Henry bellowed. Then he lowered his tone, his voice choked. ‘You’ve no idea what it was like to lose her.’
Kate caught a glimpse of her father’s pain. The dark days after his wife died. She thought of Nick and her love for him. At last she had a sense of her father’s loss.
‘I’ve always wanted to be here on Bronty though, Dad,’ she said. ‘Always! I was just stupid and angry and young! And it’s been impossible to accept that she’s part of your life …’ She pointed in the direction of the house, indicating Annabelle. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Dad, but I just can’t stomach seeing her in Mum’s place.’
‘This isn’t about Annabelle,’ Henry said.
‘But you’re selling the farm because of her! How can you sell it when Will’s and Mum’s dreams are still here?’
‘Kate, don’t do this. It’s my decision to sell. Not Annabelle’s. There’s nothing here for me now.’
‘That’s not true,’ Kate said. She held out the plans again, beseeching him. ‘Please, Dad. Just look at this. Please.’ Her hands were shaking. She felt shame at the years of hurt she’d caused her father. And Will, too, knowing how he had constantly put out the spotfires she set alight in their family. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry,’ Kate said again, her voice cracking.
Behind her, Nell woke and began to call out. Kate laid the folder at Henry’s feet and backed away towards the ute. She took Nell into her arms and walked back to him, holding her. Kate felt years of remorse mount up within her. Janie’s words had sunk in. Her father’s too. And now, it was too late to change. She buried her face into Nell’s neck and began to cry silently. All that was left was a deep sadness and a self-loathing, bitterness that it had taken so long for her to find the maturity to look at herself.
‘Oh! Poor mummy,’ comforted Nell. She stroked Kate’s hair. ‘Grandpa, Mummy is sad. Kiss for Mummy. Kiss better.’
Annabelle’s voice cut through. She marched towards them, tanned from summer gardening, her blonde-grey hair swept up stylishly, looking every bit the glamorous farmer’s wife.
‘Don’t think you can come back here and wave that child in front of him just to get your way,’ she said, standing hands on hips. ‘After what you did to our home, you’re not welcome on this place anymore. I suppose you think it’s funny putting sheep in a house. Well, it was our home, and you destroyed it. It’s pushed us to this point! We’re leaving because of the hurt you’ve caused everyone – including your father!’
‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said quietly.
‘Pardon?’
Kate looked straight at Annabelle. There was a level of calmness in her voice now that came with complete defeat.
‘I’m sorry. Really I am.’
‘Mummy’s sorry,’ said Nell. Kate saw a flicker of emotion cross her father’s stern face.
‘Don’t you use a child to emotionally blackmail us,’ Annabelle said. ‘Now leave, before I … I … call the police. We won’t have vandals on this property.’
‘Fine. I understand,’ Kate said, her voice soft. Henry looked down at his boots to where the folder lay. Shaking, Kate lugged Nell to her ute and strapped her in, crying quietly as she did so.
Nell called out, ‘Bye, Grandpa. Bye, An-bell.’ Her little face solemn.
Shutting the ute door, Kate got in and drove quietly away, her vision of the sea ahead of her blurred by tears.