36

Kaydon tossed about fitfully for the remainder of the night. He could think of no way to hold up the settlement, to delay hocking the farm, and perhaps in doing so delay Holly’s departure.

As he woke the next morning he heard a strange pattering noise; rain?

He peered out the window. Big, warm, heavy drops splattered onto the tiles around the swimming pool and on the timber deck around the house.

He leapt out of bed and threw the curtains open. ‘Rain!’

He heard his mother’s soft footsteps down the hallway. ‘Hey, Pat. It’s raining.’

Kaydon joined his parents at the front door. Big fat drops bounced off the ground and danced a pogo in the dust. Kaydon ran down the front steps in his shorts and let it fall over him. Through the erratic pattering sound of it, a truck rolled into the driveway. The hippie truck; it was packed to overflowing and had big silver tarps covering the load on the back. Wipers smeared arcs of brown across its windscreen. Ken Harvey must be collecting his pay and signing off.

Suddenly the rain felt like bullets. ‘Why now?’ Kaydon looked into the sky. ‘Why now when it is too late?’

As the truck got closer to the house and stopped, he saw that only Ken Harvey and his wife were in it. They got out, and Mrs Harvey tucked a slim paper folder into the front of her jacket to protect it from the rain. The building plans? He stood at the bottom of the steps. Kaydon’s father stood at the top in a pair of long pyjama pants and no shirt. His belly was round and white and he hadn’t shaved.

‘Can I have a minute?’ Mrs Harvey asked.

Pat’s eyes ran to the file in her jacket. ‘Could you get us a coffee, Bron?’ He walked along the verandah. ‘And maybe a shirt?’

Mr and Mrs Harvey followed him into the office and the door closed behind them.

Kaydon paced about in the rain, letting it sluice over his skin.

‘Come inside and have breakfast,’ said Bron.

Kaydon got dressed and sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. He was too agitated to eat and the coffee was making him worse. What were Holly’s parents and his dad talking about in there, and why were they taking so long? It had been nearly forty-five minutes.

When he couldn’t bear it any more, he took himself outside and waited on the verandah. When at last they emerged, Pat held the paper file in his hand. There was handshaking and brief goodbyes. The Harveys climbed back into their truck and pulled out of the driveway.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Kaydon.

Pat didn’t speak for a while. He stared thoughtfully after the truck, and then said, ‘I need more coffee.’

He sat at the kitchen table with the file open in front of him and began pulling out papers. They looked like reports.

Kaydon’s heart lurched. Property reports. Maps with coloured squares and shapes in different colours and little icons all over them. Mining leases.

‘How many properties does he own?’ he asked his father.

‘About six. He has contracts on more. All with disused oil wells.’ His mouth was set into a thin line. His eyes flicked to the clock. The small hand was on nine.

‘Parker worked for a company called AtWorld Resources about four years ago. Ken’s wife led an environmental war against them on the coast. AtWorld wanted to set up geo-sequestration projects but Melinda fought it and had it stopped. No wonder he kicked them off Glenvale. He must have recognised their names.’

‘Holly told me about that,’ said Kaydon. ‘So, that was Mr Parker?’

‘He was the project manager for Atworld. He lost his job over it.’ Pat’s voice was low and measured. ‘I’d guess our partner’s trying to go out on his own now, start his own geo-sequestration company.’

‘But why wouldn’t he just buy Glenvale on his own? Why drag us into it?’

‘He wants Rockleigh. It has the most oil well heads and it’s close to the power station. They would capture the carbon dioxide at the power station and pipe it straight to Rockleigh, along the seam line to Glenvale, Bauhala and any other properties he has his hands on.’ Pat swore under his breath.

Kaydon wasn’t game to speak. He could hardly breathe. Would his father cancel the Glenvale deal?

‘I’m committed,’ said Pat, reading his thoughts. His voice was hollow. ‘I can’t get out of this.’

‘Why not?’ said Kaydon.

‘I’ve put down a share of Rockleigh as a deposit. A hundred grand. I’ll lose the deposit if I pull out. I don’t have it in cash. I would be forced to . . ..’ He threw his hands in the air.

‘Sell to Mr Parker.’ Kaydon finished his sentence.

‘Ring the solicitor and delay it,’ said Bron, panic in her voice. ‘Pat, please. There must be a way we can stop this.’

‘I don’t know if there’s time.’ Pat took the phone and pushed himself away from the table. He headed out the front door.

Kaydon heard the office door slam shut. He paced about in the kitchen. Outside, the rain was heavier. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ he said finally. He pulled on his boots at the front steps and set off across the paddocks.

Steers lay chewing solemnly while the water tumbled over them. Stockhorses grazed nearby with their tails to the wind. The air was all water and soil and eucalyptus. Rain pelted onto the bare paddocks. As Kaydon walked he tried to pull these things into his lungs, savour the life-giving joy of them. But something kept screaming, deep inside him. What if we lost all this?

Something honked close by. A car; it honked and honked and honked again, louder and closer.

‘Kaydo!’ Still honking, Dan drove the battered Hilux with no windscreen down the driveway through the mud. He hung half his body out of the cabin. ‘Kaydo, it’s raining!’

Kaydon cracked a weak smile.

His friend did a big, obnoxious handbrakey in the home yard, sending a spray of mud across the wall of the shed. He got out wearing a huge floppy hat, Superman boxers and an old black T-shirt. Had he not changed since the fires?

Dan climbed onto the bonnet of the Hilux and began dancing something that looked like a war dance, punching his fists in the air and stomping more dents into the bonnet with his boots. ‘It’s bloody raining, Kaydo!’

Kaydon pulled himself through the fence. When he got within a metre of the ute, Dan leapt into his arms, clinging to him like an anorexic koala. He was all bones and spiky chin hair and bad body odour. ‘It never rains but it pours, my friend!’

‘Get off,’ Kaydon gasped, laughing and trying to extricate himself from Dan’s limbs. He pushed him off with a giant shove and Dan fell backwards into a puddle of mud, like a drunk.

He looked up at Kaydon. ‘I just rang that Parker bloke and told him to stuff off!’ He started flapping his arms and legs.

‘Daniel Tremonti!’ Bron’s voice was scolding from the verandah. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘I’m making mud angels, Mrs A,’ he called back. ‘I got a message from heaven today.’

Kaydon looked at his mother. ‘He’s got rain fever.’

Bron nodded. ‘I’ll call the psych ward. He’s finally lost it.’

‘I’ve finally got it, you mean.’ Dan jumped out of his puddle. ‘Dad’s life insurance came through!’

Kaydon could have cried. ‘Dan. That’s fantastic. That’s so good.’ He hugged his friend. ‘I’m stoked for you.’ Then he did cry. He was glad for the raindrops sliding down his face because they hid his bittersweet tears. He hid his face in his friend’s ribby chest.

Dan took him by the shoulders and pushed him away. ‘Don’t get all poofy on me.’ He grinned, but looked at Kaydon’s face and his brow furrowed. ‘You guys going to a funeral today or something?’

‘Come inside, Dan,’ said Bron. ‘Actually, go via the laundry and get yourself some clean clothes first.’