Silver Clouds (14 page)

‘Oh for goodness sake. Who is the adult here?'

‘Come on, Tessie,' Paul said quietly. ‘We won't be able to start until it dries out a bit and by then it will be about the time he goes. You can do it. Be good for you. And he did us a big favour, picking you up from Kalgoorlie.'

Tessa pushed her mashed potatoes and peas around her plate. She'd rather have nothing to do with that sullen man, who seemed to completely dislike her. Still, Cally was lovely. And she knew her parents thought the world of him. She felt the obligation close in on her. ‘Fine,' she said shortly.

The next day dawned clear and sunny and the whole Mathison family travelled in three separate vehicles to Aunty Spider's house. Tessa had Dozer with her, along with clean bed linen and enough food for two days.

The heat that had been present before the storm wasn't as fierce but the humidity made up for it. Marni was first out of the car and into the garden. ‘I'd really like to get some cuttings if that's okay?' she asked.

‘Spider would love you to take anything at all,' Peggy said, smiling. ‘I'm going to grab a few too. Petal,' she turned to Tessa, ‘Ryan will have to show you how the garden pump works and when to refill the tank. Okay, Ryan?'

Tessa grinned as her brother put two fingers to his forehead.

‘At your service,' he answered.

Tessa turned to share a laugh with Marni at Ryan's expense but caught an impatient look aimed at Ryan as her sister-in-law bent down to snap off a frond from the geranium bush she was standing near. Worried now, Tessa was sure she could see a great distance between Marni and Ryan and she hoped it was just her imagination. She knew Marni was perfect for her brother but, reading between the lines, if they were having trouble falling pregnant Tessa knew that could create tension.

‘Should we go in?' she asked trying to defuse the situation and pushed open the door.

The house had begun to look and smell like no one lived there. Cobwebs hung in the corners and dust had settled on the furniture and surfaces. Yesterday's rain had come in underneath the front window and there was a damp patch on the carpet. Tessa was surprised that a house could look so unloved within a matter of five weeks.

She looked at her parents. ‘Where do we start?' she asked, feeling suddenly very sad.

‘We've just got to get on,' Paul said. ‘If no one has any objections I'd like to take that.' He pointed at an antique chair covered in blue fabric. ‘The Story Telling Chair,' he said. ‘Do you know it's a Smoker's Bow? I spent ages sitting in it while she spun tales sometimes too far-fetched to believe!'

‘Yeah, I did too. Remember that story she used to tell about a kid called Spindles and his pet goanna?' Ryan said.

Peggy nodded. ‘Oh, do I ever. You wanted one and were forever fossicking about in the scrub looking for a baby goanna you could train up as your own.' She shuddered, but with a smile.

Tessa knew she had sat there, too, when Spider told her tales of the cameleers, but she didn't say anything. Her emotions were running high and, as always when that happened, the cravings for a drink came in spades. She tuned back into the conversation.

‘Since I never found one you would let me keep, I was happy with the string of geckos I had!' Ryan picked up the chair. ‘So this goes to Dad. Mum?'

‘The sideboard.' Peggy went over to it and ran her hand over the top, leaving fingerprints in the dust. She pulled open a drawer. It was full of papers. ‘But maybe I won't be taking it today,' she said with a smile.

‘That will be the first thing I sort, Mum,' Tessa said, bending down and opening a cupboard door in the dresser. ‘Oh, wow, look at these photo albums!' She pulled one out and opened it. Three pictures of Spider and her family were on the front page. Spider had a baby on her hip. ‘Imagine the history in these,' Tessa said in wonder, carefully turning the pages.

‘Don't get rid of any of that,' Paul said. ‘That's our history.'

‘I'd never do that, Dad. How cool would it be to dedicate a room at home to the history of the family? I might try and do that once I've finished here.' She continued to look through the album, while everyone went in and out of the other rooms, looking at what was there.

Ryan came in holding a painting of a camel train pulling a load of wool. ‘I'd really like this.'

Tessa looked up. ‘Great! What about you, Marni, have you found something?' She smiled at her sister-in-law, hoping her friendliness might encourage Marni to smile back.

‘It's not really my place to take anything,' Marni said quietly.

‘You take what you want. Mum said that at the beginning.'

‘Do you really mean that? Could I—' she stopped and Tessa smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way. ‘Could I have the spinning wheel? I love to spin.'

‘Wow! That's something I didn't know. It's yours. I don't think any of us even know how to use it! It's almost a lost art.' Tessa was rewarded with a grin from Marni.

‘And I'd like to lay claim to Aunty Spider's writing desk,' she said. She unlatched it and folded down the front to reveal pigeon holes on the inside. This was where Spider would have penned her letters. Sitting at it, she knew she would feel close to her aunt.

‘Oh, my goodness me! Do you remember this?'

Tessa looked up and saw Peggy holding a photo of the four of them. ‘Spider took this after the big rains back in '88! Look at you two. We were hunting for yabbies in the dam. You were both as quick as sticks on your feet. I was trying to keep you at least half-clean and look at you! Covered in mud from head to toe. She thought it was a scream.'

Tessa giggled. It was bittersweet, but there were lots of good memories here.

Chapter 14

It was dark when the others left Spider's house. The thunder clouds had begun to build again at lunch time, but thankfully they'd stayed to the north of the highway.

From the garden Tessa watched the cars' taillights disappear as her family drove away. When she could hear nothing but silence she walked back into the house and switched on the kitchen light.

‘Well, Dozer, it's just you and me,' she said to the old mutt. He seemed to understand and puffed loudly. Tessa knew he'd been pleased to come home, although he had spent most of the time wandering from room to room as if he were looking for Spider. She wished she could explain to him what was happening. Instead, she bent down and fondled his ears.

‘I'd love a glass of wine, old fella,' she muttered. But she'd made a pact with herself after the night at Balladonia: she would come to Aunty Spider's, where it was difficult to get in and out of, and wouldn't take anything alcoholic – Tessa would just have to do without. It was obvious that if she had it with her, she'd drink it. Stuck out here in a lonely cottage, twenty minutes from the homestead, would do her good.

Tessa poured herself a glass of lemonade and wandered out to the verandah, though she wasn't sure it could be called that – it was more of a roof over a dirt path. Still, Spider had done it up prettily with painted white pots full of flowering red geraniums. There was a heavy cast-iron table with chairs set up underneath the kitchen window, also painted white, in the middle of which sat a clay pot. Tessa knew it was for plants because there had been times Spider had grown small succulents in it, but there wasn't anything shooting up in it at the moment.

Tessa sat there and took of a sip of her drink before picking up the pot and looking inside it. It felt heavy, but there was nothing inside but cobwebs and dirt, as far as she could see. She put it back and sighed. Dozer sighed too and curled up at her feet.

‘Did she do this most nights?' Tessa asked the dog. Dozer didn't even look up.

She turned her attention back to the night. Across the plains, she could see the rich glow of the moon just below the horizon. A full silver moon. It sent shivers through her. It had been a full moon when Kendra had died.
Don't even go there
, she thought angrily and slugged at her drink wishing it were wine. If only there was something to take away this guilt, fear and need for a drink. These things wound around her, leaving her agitated and disturbed.

Not even the chorus of crickets and frogs, competing for best vocalist, calmed her. She heard a fox bark and shivered again. ‘Come on, I don't think I should be out here tonight,' she said and encouraged Dozer back inside.

Cranking up her iPod, she let the music block any outside noises as she prepared a meal. She'd bought some chicken breasts from Jemima, her friend in the kitchen at Balladonia – she didn't think she could stomach another chop. After so long eating fish and fowl, all the red meat she had been consuming wasn't agreeing with her.

Tessa rummaged around in the cupboard and found the frying pan and spices. After dicing the meat she threw it into the pan, added the vegies and spices, and put a pot of water on to boil for the rice. Everything was where it had always been kept and Tessa added what Aunty Spider had taught her to. Saffron and coriander plus many other spices. They were all there. Considering Spider had never travelled further than England, Tessa had always thought it interesting that she had a love for Afghan food. Her signature dish had been Qorma Lawand, an onion-based dish of lamb or chicken. Yoghurt, turmeric and coriander were the other ingredients and that was what Tessa was going to cook tonight. She'd cooked it many times back in London, so well, in fact, that some of her friends had asked if she'd been taught by a chef. What a hoot that was!

While dinner was simmering, she went into the spare bedroom and made up the bed. She turned on the hot water in the shower and stood there, waiting for it to change from cold to hot. It didn't. She frowned as she remembered there was a chip heater she had to light. The chip heater was a filthy piece of equipment – a large rectangular cistern kept in the laundry, with a section down the bottom to light a fire and heat the water. Old-fashioned and a terrible waste of time, but frugal, just as Aunty Spider had been.

Tessa swore. She might have to wait until tomorrow for a shower but, looking down at her clothes, she knew she was too grubby to stand herself.

‘Come on, Dozer, you'll have to come with me. I don't fancy going out to the wood pile by myself.'

She turned on the outside light and walked across to the tank, where small fist-size stumps were kept out of the weather. She quickly gathered an armful, then raced back across the lawn and into the house. She shut the door and tried to suppress a shudder.
Idiot
, she thought.

After lighting the hot-water system and checking on her meal, there was really nothing else to do but wait. She was itching for a glass of wine. Was there any here? She opened the sideboard where Spider had always kept the sherry. Nothing. Maybe the pantry? Nothing.

‘
Spider
,' Tessa groaned. It was almost like she'd known not to have anything in the house!

Muting the iPod, Tessa turned on the TV, only to become instantly annoyed at the primitive ad for some second-hand car yard. ‘Stuff that,' she muttered angrily and switched it off.

Tessa turned her thoughts to the night ahead. She might need a torch after she went to bed, so she went hunting for one, all the while knowing it would be on Spider's bedside table. She really had been hoping that she didn't have to go into her bedroom for a little while. Not until she had settled in, anyway.

Tessa stood at the door of the bedroom for a long time. Finally she turned the handle and walked in slowly. The smell hit her instantly. Sandalwood. Spider had always loved the smell. Choking back tears, Tessa went in and grabbed the torch before backing out and shutting the door again.

In the lounge room she curled up on the couch and cried – the cauldron of emotions had finally bubbled to the surface. She'd tried to be brave in coming back, but it was so hard. Kendra's accident had just about wrecked Danjar Plains for her.

As a young girl, some small part inside thought she could be happy here in Spider's house, living the rest of her days out in peace and solitude. But then she'd left for school in Perth. Saw how the city lights could be much more fun than an isolated stretch of land. It had been great coming home for holidays – she got to fill her lungs with clean, fresh air, ride the motorbikes and horses and spend time with her great-aunt. Jaz often came with her. But not Kendra, even though Tessa had been to Kendra's many times – it was so much easier to get to Narrogin than to the Nullarbor.

But at last, in Year 12, during the mid-term school holidays, Tessa had convinced Kendra to visit the station. Kendra, her best friend. The one who had wiped her tears when she'd been homesick, laughed with her over stupid teachers, and talked until all hours of the night when the boarding house mistresses weren't within earshot.

Opening her eyes, Tessa stared at the crushed tissue in her hand. All she could see was the windmill, Kendra's lifeless body and the dingoes circling.
No! No, you bastards! Get away from her.
The dingoes would have thought Kendra was nothing but a meal, not a loved person.

Tessa couldn't leave her. She'd tried to grab Kendra's body, to hold it up, make her start breathing again. ‘Kendra,' she'd screamed. ‘Kendra. Oh, Kendra. Jaz, help! Jaz.' But Kendra was dead and Jaz was sound asleep by the fire.

Tessa could still remember the weight of her friend as she dragged her towards the homestead. Kendra's trailing legs had haunted her for years afterwards.

She'd sobbed and screamed all the way, calling for Jaz and swearing she wouldn't leave her friend until she was safe. But Kendra would never be safe because Tessa hadn't watched her closely enough and this is what had happened. Danjar Plains was her home, not Kendra's, so that made her responsible.

No one had heard her until she was within fifty metres of the house. She'd seen the ute lights go on and the white of the spotties as the vehicle backed out of the garage.
Thank God they were home!
She'd seen her dad drive in an arc, trying to work out where she was. She had nothing to signal him with, so she just kept up an ear-piercing scream. And all the while, the dingoes followed her . . .