Man Drought (5 page)

His mother. Curry farts. The smell of old milk.
Cardboard
.

He stopped the car and walked awkwardly towards the house as his two working dogs – twin kelpies called Jack and Jill – bounded towards him.

He rarely stayed in town with Charlie – the old man was more independent than anyone he knew, much to the irritation of Gibson’s mother – and the dogs hated it when he did, but late last night Charlie had been in a fluster, unable to find his house keys after his shift, so Gibson had driven back into town with the spares. With Jack and Jill camped out on the front verandah, he needn’t worry about his house or his possessions. Friend or foe, his dogs let no one within a hundred-metre radius of his home when he wasn’t there. Dogs were the most important things in most cockies’ lives. They were easily worth two or three employees and, in his experience, were much less bother than a wife.

‘Hey pals.’ He bent to stroke them both around the ears. They bounced as if the ground were a trampoline as the three of them headed up the path towards the house. Yes, they were working dogs, but aside from Charlie they were also the only family he had around here anymore. And they were better company than most people, never nagging him about things he didn’t want to be nagged about.

The day Serena left the farm had been the day he’d brought the dogs’ beds inside. Keeping them close made him feel less alone. The farming rule about working dogs living outside had been the one thing his city-chick wife had really latched on to. Pity she hadn’t shown the same enthusiasm towards anything else to do with rural life.

Ugh
. He shook his head as the door slammed behind him. He didn’t want to think about Serena. The divorce had been finalised for near on two years and, as a rule, he harboured thoughts about their short marriage as little as possible. At least thinking of her had succeeded in doing one thing – he no longer had an erection the size of Mt Kosciuszko burning a hole in his pants.

She had that effect. Whenever he thought about his ex-wife his insides grew lead-heavy and he tried to focus on the good things in his life – like the farm, football, Charlie – before the bad thoughts spiralled out of control. He wasn’t depressed like Paris had suggested last time he went to Perth for a family lunch. He was simply a little uninspired. Just because his marriage had failed and he didn’t walk around with a permanent grin on his face, like his mother and sister, didn’t mean he was about to top himself. He simply didn’t see the point of trying to keep up appearances.

As he went towards the kitchen seeking breakfast, Gibson chuckled, recalling Paris’ suggestion he see a shrink.

He hated how married people couldn’t see that there were other ways to live. You didn’t have to be coupled off to be happy.
He may have been slightly lonely these last couple of years – a farm was probably the most isolated place a guy could live by himself – but he wouldn’t have called his barely twelve months of marriage happy days either.

Grabbing a carton of eggs and a packet of bacon from his fridge, Gibson threw all his pent-up energies into cooking up a feast. In the beginning, he’d put that kind of effort into Serena – making sure his girlfriend was happy. And when she become his wife, his efforts hadn’t waned. But no matter what he did, nothing lived up to her idea of how their life should be. He should have known you couldn’t pick up a farmer’s wife in a nightclub in the city, but he’d found her attractive, they’d got chatting, started dating, one thing led to another, and he’d hoped Serena would help him make the kind of life he always dreamed of. Not the family his parents had created for him, but the kind of marriage Charlie talked about having with Elsie. He wanted a wife who’d be his partner in everything, and that very much included working on the farm.

In the end, he hadn’t chosen a wife like Elsie at all; he’d chosen one exactly like his mother.

No one expected marriage to be a piece of cake, but it was even tougher in the bush. Women had to be more than blindsided by love. They had to be tough and inventive, loyal and gutsy, prepared to suffer years of drought, temperamental sheep, isolation and a severe lack of the finer things in life. Serena hadn’t stuck around long enough to witness many of these things, but in hindsight, he knew she’d never have coped with any of them.

In his experience, women who fit that definition were few and far between, and Gibson had lost all hope of ever finding one. But instead of dwelling on this fact, he focused all his time and attention on the farm, doing everything within his control to make sure it flourished.

Imogen looked around her new office and smiled. Cathy and Trevor hadn’t gone yet, but in the last few days Imogen had begun putting her mark on the place. The simple act of Cathy removing her belongings had opened it up from a poky little room into a spacious office. Although she wasn’t always immaculate at home, she liked things neat and tidy in the work environment.

The only extravagant items were a few strategically placed photos across her desk – a favourite shot of Jenna and Amy, her sisters and their kids, and one of her parents. She’d made the heartbreaking decision not to include a picture of Jamie. Upstairs, in her apartment, she had almost enough photos to pretend he was still around, but downstairs she wanted to do things differently. She didn’t plan on broadcasting her widowed status to anyone. Not that she’d lie – she’d just wait for such a conversation to arise of its own accord.

‘Knock knock.’

Imogen looked up to see Karen standing there.

‘Hi there.’ Karen smiled awkwardly. ‘I’m so sorry about the other morning. It was like something off
Funniest Home Videos
– meeting your new boss and trying to drown her.’

Imogen couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Don’t worry about it. A little water never hurt anyone, especially in this climate.’

‘Phew.’ Karen’s smile relaxed.

‘Are you all recovered now?’

‘Yes. Healthy and raring to go. Cathy mentioned you wanted to see me before I started on the rooms. The log says there were only a couple of guests last night.’

‘Yes.’ Imogen nodded. ‘I imagine that won’t take you long, which is kind of why I want to talk to you. Come on in.’

Karen bustled in, the smile lines Imogen had noticed around her eyes crinkled tightly. ‘I have to say, it’s so fabulous to have a new female face in town, but you’d better watch out. The men around here will be squabbling over you like crows over roadkill. It’s once in a blue moon a pretty girl lands in these parts.’

Imogen laughed nervously at the image. ‘They can squabble all they like, but I’m not in the market for a relationship.’

‘Oh?’ Karen’s forehead wrinkled. ‘A pretty young thing like you? I thought you’d be desperate to fall in love. We’ve got an abundance of lovely boys around here.’

An image of Gibson Black flashed into her mind, but she shooed it away. He wasn’t
lovely
!

Karen continued, oblivious. ‘Unless of course some bloke has ruined you already. You’re not divorced, are you?’ She said ‘divorced’ like it was a cardinal sin.

‘No, nothing like that. I just want to focus on building the business before I worry about relationships.’ Imogen hated lying, not that it was exactly a lie. The business part was true, but relationships weren’t part of her game plan anymore. She wondered if she
should tell Karen the truth – it might be sensible to at least share her past with her employees – but Karen had already moved on.

‘Very sensible.’ She nodded her head enthusiastically. ‘This is a big venture to take on, but I’m sure you’re up to it. Tom’s told me marvellous things. The town is in desperate need of a revival, and this old place used to be bursting with people of an evening. It would be so lovely to see it come alive again.’

Imogen leaned across her desk and gestured for Karen to take a seat. ‘How long have you lived here?’

‘Pretty much my whole life. Almost fifty-two years.’ The older woman settled in the chair.

‘Wow.’ Imogen laughed. ‘I’ll bet a chat with you would be better than reading the local history books, then.’

Karen beamed, obviously pleased with Imogen’s analysis. ‘You ask me anything you want. If I don’t know it, you check with Charlie. If he doesn’t know it—-’

‘It’s not worth knowing?’ Imogen guessed.

They both laughed.

‘That’s right,’ Karen said with a wry smile. ‘Now, I’ll bet you’ve got plenty to be getting on with, so what was it you wanted to talk with me about?’

‘I was just wondering if you’re happy with your current hours, or if you’d be open to a bit of negotiation.’ Imogen kept her voice low – the door was open and she didn’t want to offend Cathy or Trevor with her observations. ‘I’d like to employ you for longer each day and include the cleaning of the main pub in your duties. Not a huge clean,’ she rushed, not wanting to put Karen off, ‘but just a quick once-over five days a week, so the dust and grime doesn’t get out of hand.’

A knowing smile appeared on Karen’s face. She leaned across the desk and whispered, ‘Cathy was never much of a housekeeper, and most of the blokes round here don’t really notice the dust, but it’s nice to know that might be about to change.’

‘A wise businessman once told me that you shouldn’t change anything in the first three months of business. Well, wise or not, I’m planning on changing a fair bit.’

‘Good on you,’ Karen chuckled. ‘And I can’t wait to see the results. That’s a yes to the extra work. I’m so bored since the kids fled the nest that even my flowers are getting sick of my company. I’m happy to do some bar work too if the need ever arises. Hell, I’ll help in any way I can.’

‘Fabulous. I’ll keep that in mind,’ Imogen promised.

That settled, Karen went to stand up but Imogen raised her hand to stop her. ‘You said the town’s in desperate need of a revival. What did it used to be like?’

‘Ah …’ Karen got a wistful look in her eyes and leaned back into the chair. ‘Magic. I’ve never seen the appeal of the city myself, but I guess the folks that pass through here now don’t see the place like I do. We used to be a thriving little community – there was even a school until about fifteen years ago.’

Now that she thought of it, Imogen couldn’t recall seeing one child since landing in Gibson’s Find. She smiled, encouraging Karen to go on.

‘Our population used to be triple what it is now. With more women living here, there were kids and community groups aplenty. Fundraisers, balls, bingo nights, you name it. There was never a shortage of social life round these parts. But when the big mine closed, the mining families moved further afield. And that basically left the farmers. With many properties amalgamating in recent years, even the farmers have become few and far between. Some were bought out by big companies, and the managers that live on them now haven’t got the link with the history of the community. A lot of them are just here to make a quick buck before buying their own place and settling down. And as you see, there are hardly any women here to give these drop-ins reason to stay. We don’t even have our
own football team anymore. The local fellows had to combine with other towns in the region.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation – whether the women left because things were dwindling or whether things dwindled because the women left.

‘Do you think there’s any hope of things ever reversing?’ Imogen asked, her heart saddened at Karen’s passionate recounting, and the fact that she’d impulsively bought a business in what was, in essence, a dying community.

‘I’d like to think so.’ Karen nodded, her large breasts lifting and her whole body getting in on the action. ‘Folks are talking about coming back due to the mining taking off again. Tom thinks I’m stupid to entertain such hopes, but I look at it this way: the people who stayed in Gibson’s Find are fighters. We haven’t let the town completely die like others around it, so there is a little bit to draw people back. Ever heard of Black Arrow?’

The name sounded vaguely familiar. ‘I think so.’

‘Ghost town not far from here. Only thing left is the pub; you can get a nice meal there though.’

Phew
, thought Imogen. At least if Gibson’s Find did go the same way, she might be able to survive on passing trade and the reputation she planned to build. But hopefully it would never come to that. The idea of country towns and their close-knit communities had always appealed to her, and she’d moved here because she wanted to belong to one. Imogen vowed then and there to help enthusiastic locals like Karen hold on to the dream.

It might not be much, but she would do whatever she could to keep
this
small community alive.

Gibson supposed it was good that he had to head into town occasionally – for supplies, to visit Charlie, to go to ambo training and
the odd Apex Club meeting – but sometimes he wished he could just hole himself up at Roseglen. He felt more than happy in the company of Jack and Jill and his mother’s neglected rosebushes, but maybe if he cut himself off totally from human interaction he’d miss it. Then again … maybe not.

Scratching the back of his neck, he tossed his keys up in the air, caught them again and then jogged down the verandah and the garden path to his ute. This arvo’s task was stopping in at the agricultural supplies store to collect some tractor parts, then a quick visit with Charlie before an Apex meeting in the back room of The Majestic at six. Right now his dogs were lying under an old gum tree, no doubt thankful he hadn’t called them to work in this scorching heat. They generally loved jumping in the back of the ute and driving round the farm, looking for stray sheep they could exhaust their never-ending energy on, but nobody liked to work in forty-degree temperatures, which is why he made sure he got any outside work out of the way early.

As he approached the picket fence that surrounded the homestead, Gibson eyed the raised patches of dirt where, once upon a time, his mum had tried to grow vegetables. Her enthusiasm for such work hadn’t lasted long. He couldn’t even recall tasting any fruits of her efforts, but it struck him now that if he had his own veggie garden he’d have to venture into town even less.

No, he shouldn’t think like that. It hadn’t been a problem until Imogen had arrived and made everyone crazy. Every time he’d been into town since her arrival, every person he spoke to had said something about her.

‘See you two later,’ he called to the dogs as he climbed into his ute. ‘If you’re lucky, I’ll bring you home a treat.’ It was only as he slammed the door that he realised that in future this would mean asking Imogen for something. Trevor often gave him bags of leftovers from the pub, over which Jack and Jill usually went wild, but
those days were over. Although Trev and Cathy hadn’t left yet on their big adventure, the pub was now officially Imogen’s, and no way he was asking her for anything. The dogs would have to make do with Schmackos from the general store.

As he drove down the long, red, dusty drive towards the main road that would take him into town, he studied the paddocks on either side of him – anything to get his thoughts off Imogen and her annoying habit of taking over his mind. The paddocks were dry, stubble still poking out of the ground like someone had come along and planted a load of chopsticks. Although seeding was still a couple of months off, burning would start soon, and then came the relentless prayers of all the farmers in the district for rain. Last year had been disappointingly dry, and although his crop output hadn’t been as dismal as some, he was holding out for a much better season this year.

Lord knew the town and its inhabitants needed something to boost morale, other than a new sexy publican, that is. His thoughts drifted to Imogen again and before he knew it, he’d turned into the main street of Gibson’s Find. The town had everything he needed, and the only times he ventured further afield were the obligatory trips to see his parents in Perth. Yet he couldn’t help wondering what an outsider saw to draw them here. Especially a female outsider with no husband or family in the vicinity.

Dammit
. He all but slammed his fist against the steering wheel. How did she keep slipping into his head every other second? He simply couldn’t get the thought of her in that wet running gear out of his mind. Determined to focus on the task at hand, he parallel-parked outside the agricultural supplies store. When he’d finished inside, he had a good couple of hours before his meeting began, but Lord knew he didn’t want to hang around the pub waiting all that time.

Leaving his ute, he ambled down the road, scuffing his boots on the pavement like a schoolboy trying to be late for class. As he
entered the general store – where he planned to do more strolling down the narrow, sparsely filled shelves – he spotted Charlie near the bread and, for one short second, entertained the thought that maybe he wouldn’t have to pop into the pub at all today. Then, dammit, he remembered his Apex meeting.

‘Hey Charlie.’ He sidled up to his granddad, glanced into the man’s basket and then frowned at the contents – fishing line, bicarb of soda and a packet of Fishermen’s Friend.’

‘Gibby.’ Charlie’s face lit up. He shifted his basket in one hand and scratched the side of his head, just beneath his hat, with the other. ‘Just doing a bit of shopping for Imogen.’

‘What does she want with the fishing line?’

Charlie grimaced and dug his hand into his trouser pocket. ‘That’s just it, I’ve lost the list she gave me and I can’t remember everything she needed. I’m sure there was something about fish on there.’

Charlie looked woebegone by this fact and Gibson found himself irritated that she’d sent his grandfather out shopping. She had two legs, why couldn’t she use them? Cringing at what he was about to do, he dug his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled the pub.

He let out a relieved sigh when Karen answered the call.

‘Hi Karen. Gibson Black here. I’m with Charlie at the store and he’s lost the list Imogen gave him for shopping. Don’t suppose you could ask her what was on it?’

Karen chuckled. ‘I can do better than that. I can read it to you – I just found it.’

‘That’s definitely better.’ Thankful for his good memory, he took a mental note of the five items and then disconnected the call. ‘You can keep the bicarb,’ he told Charlie, pointing into the trolley, but it’s fish sauce she wanted, so the other two can go back. We also need a packet of envelopes, some sticky tape and a packet of plain biscuits. Let me help you.’

Charlie’s smile returned and his mood lifted as they walked the store gathering Imogen’s requirements. Gibson then gave him a lift to the pub, deciding that he might as well cut his losses and go inside early. He could get a meal, sit in the corner and read the local rag or something.