The Saddler Boys (7 page)

DREW
shoved the vacuum cleaner back in the cupboard and turned to survey his work. The washing had been put away, the kitchen was tidy and the floors were clean. It was the best the house had looked in a while. Sure, it could still use his mother's touch with stuff like the dusting and washing the windows, but he'd done the best he could in the time he had. Billy had helped too, in his excitement. He'd made his bed and cleaned his room. After school on Friday they'd put the yabby nets in, ready for today's lunch.

‘I hear a car,' yelled Billy as he ran through the house and out the sliding door.

‘Shut the . . . door,' he said, but it was too late. Billy was long gone.

Drew went outside and closed the door, slipped on his boots and followed the sound of his son's voice.

‘Do you wanna see my yabbies first?'

Drew came to the end of the path, the trees clearing, to find Natalie standing by her fancy car. He stopped and smiled. ‘Just settle down, kiddo, she's not rushing off straight away.' At least he hoped not. She'd run away pretty quickly last time. He held out his hand. ‘Let me start this off properly. Hi, I'm Andrew, but everyone calls me Drew.'

The woman smiled. She was a breath of sweet air, literally, with an exotic splash that delighted his nose. Like a frangipani flower floating through the smelly shearing shed. She was dressed in fitted jeans, high black wedges and a pure white top, soft and light as spun sugar. Her hair fell down her shoulders in a shiny cascade as if she'd just stepped out of the hairdresser's. Suddenly Drew wondered if he should have worn something other than his blue shorts and matching King Gee shirt. At least they were clean, and he'd used plenty of deodorant.

Her hand slipped into his, cool and supple, but she shook firmly.

‘Natalie, nice to meet you. Most people call me Nat.'

There was tranquillity in her eyes, which were a darker shade of teal today. Maybe they were reflecting the overcast day. It was nearly autumn; you could feel the change in the air, and the sky was filled with dark, plump clouds.

‘They forecast a chance of rain for today,' he said, pointing skywards.

Natalie tilted her head up, her neck sleek, her chin shaped beautifully. He studied her as if she were a prized ram, unobtainable yet clearly worthy of praise and admiration.

She glanced back at him, catching his gaze. ‘Am I dressed okay?'

Drew scratched at his stubble. ‘Um . . . sort of.'

‘This is Jo. She's old,' said Billy as he pushed the dog's nose away from Natalie. ‘She won't bite, but if she does it won't hurt 'cos she doesn't have any teeth left.' Billy knelt down in the dirt and pulled Jo's lips back to show her small white nubs. ‘See? She liked chasing golf balls and rocks.'

‘Oh, I see,' said Nat as she waved away a fly.

‘Come inside and we'll sort out your shoes,' said Drew. He saw the funny expression on her face but ignored it. She'd soon realise that heels didn't work on sloped dam banks – not that he'd actually tried, but he was quite certain she'd do an ankle.

‘What's wrong with my shoes?' Drew heard her whisper to Billy as they got to the back door.

‘Well, they are a bit impractical,' he whispered back.

‘Really?' she said with a laugh.

Inside, Drew yanked out a chair on his way to the kitchen. ‘Grab a seat. Would you like a drink? Cool drink, beer or water? I don't have any wine, sorry.' She looked like someone who'd probably prefer a bright-coloured cocktail with an olive or one of those umbrella things in it.

‘A beer would be lovely, thanks.'

Drew stood hanging on to the fridge handle for a moment, processing her words. A beer? Right. Did he put hers in a glass? He took out two beers, slid them into stubby holders and cracked them open. ‘Here, hope you like Carlton Dry.'

‘We do get beer in the city, you know,' she said teasingly.

Drew felt his cheeks burn and hoped his stubble would cover it.

‘But I must admit to preferring Coronas and the Crown Ambassador.'

She was letting him off the hook and he'd never even heard of that last beer. It sounded fancy.

‘Place looks nice,' she added as she glanced around.

‘We've been cleaning
all
morning,' said Billy, who sat right next to Natalie at the table. ‘Do you want to see my yabbies now?' He put his head close to her face as he asked.

Drew noticed Natalie didn't move away from his invasion of her space. ‘Sure, lead the way.'

While Billy dragged Nat into the lounge, Drew headed off to his mum's room to find some socks for Natalie. Alice's clothes were still in there. ‘Just chuck everything out, give them to Good Sammy's or use them for shed rags, I don't care,' she'd said. She'd sorted through her valuables, giving jewellery away to her friends, so all that was left now were her bed and clothes. Her memory lived in everything around the house: the photos, the knick-knacks she'd bought, her collection of teaspoons.

It was still hard to wake up expecting to see her in the kitchen, making them eggs for breakfast. It still gutted him when he realised she'd never be there again, waving her spatula and telling them to hurry up before it gets cold. Or seeing her curled up on the couch with Billy in her lap as she read him poems from Banjo Paterson or his favourite Paul Jennings stories, the ones that had belonged to Drew. It was like living his childhood again, through Billy. Correction: it
had
been.

With a deep breath, Drew walked into the plain yellow room and opened a drawer, relieved to find it full of socks. He pulled out a thick black pair. His sister had told him to leave it all, that she would clear out their mum's clothes. ‘No son should have to go through his mum's undies,' were her exact words. So here he was, still waiting for the day Amy would come back to the farm for a visit and clear out this room. Maybe she'd come back for the anniversary of Alice's death.

When Drew went back to the lounge, Nat had her face pressed up to the glass tank, clearly fascinated.

‘Oh, they're so green. I thought they'd be a different colour.'

‘They go red when ya cook'em,' said Billy. ‘But we don't cook my Ben and Frank. We never eat our pets,' he said matter-of-factly. ‘Nan said. Not even our chooks or pet sheep.'

‘I should hope not.'

‘Heads up.' Nat looked up and Drew threw her the socks. She caught them with ease. ‘Nice catch.'

She smiled. ‘Basketball. Leading goal scorer for three years straight.'

Drew raised his eyebrows. He hadn't seen that one coming either. ‘Really? Wow. Don't let the locals know or you might just find yourself recruited for one of the teams at the end of the year.'

‘That wouldn't be so bad. So . . . um . . . what's with the socks?'

Drew beckoned her to follow as he headed to the laundry room that was just off from the sliding door. He picked up his mum's Redback boots and held them out to her. ‘These should fit,' he said. He'd already sized up her feet. It would be a shame to cover those cute toes painted a pretty pink, but safety first. ‘You'll need them for the dam.'

He could tell she wanted to ask more questions but instead she sat down and changed her shoes. ‘I feel like a clown.'

‘You look great,' said Drew. ‘I'll have you in farm clothes pushing up sheep before you know it.'

She shot him a dirty look and he laughed.

‘Right, Billy, ready to go?'

‘Yep, Dad. Come on, Miss Wright.'

‘Where are we going now?' asked Natalie, taking her beer.

Drew walked to his LandCruiser ute, an old yellow one that still had more life in it than a bucking bronco. Billy had run off in front but kept stopping to check that Natalie was following.

Drew smiled. He couldn't help it; Nat was walking strangely, as if she had cement blocks on her feet. Surely they couldn't be worse than those massive wedges she'd worn here?

‘Jump in.' Drew started the ute while Nat opened the door and eyed off the inside. He leant over and banged on the seat before brushing off some grain and stray dog hair. ‘Sorry, it's the work ute.' He wasn't sure why he'd said that – it wasn't like he had a new ute for special occasions. This was as good as it got. She climbed in anyway and reached for her seatbelt. ‘Nah, I wouldn't, unless you want a dirty mark across your top. We're not going off the farm,' he said as he drove towards the paddock after checking Billy was hanging on. Maybe inviting her back had been a bad idea. She'd go home covered in dirt and probably cursing him even more. At least she hadn't complained yet. His citified brother-in-law complained all the time. About the flies, the dust, the heat, the internet, the mobile reception, the distance, the lack of water . . . on and on he went. Drew was glad Amy preferred to travel back alone.

‘Is Billy all right?'

‘What? Oh, yeah, he's fine. He loves it on the back. You should try it some time. Lots of fun having the wind in your hair. Best thing about being a kid was riding on the back of the ute.' Drew checked on his son again and grinned. ‘So how is Lake Biddy treating you? How are you finding it so far from the city?'

‘Oh, it's lovely.' She must have seen his amused expression. ‘No, actually, I'm serious. I'm enjoying that aspect of it. No freeways, no lights —'

‘No restaurants, no shops, no choice of groceries,' added Drew.

Nat smiled. ‘Yeah, but you guys survive. It won't kill me.'

Strands of her hair floated around her face like fine threads of silk. He should have wound up his window but he liked seeing this natural, unkempt look. ‘Love your attitude. You'll be winning over the locals soon enough, just like you have with Billy. He thinks you hung the moon.'

‘He's a sweet kid.'

‘I, um, hope you can understand how I reacted when he was sick.' Drew knew he had to get this off his chest before he could relax. ‘He's my world and I tend to forget what goes on outside of that. Plus, having a stranger in my house freaked me out a bit. So, I'm really sorry for my behaviour.' Drew glanced across, catching her eyes and holding them for a moment. ‘You didn't deserve to be treated that way when you were taking such good care of Billy. I really am sorry and totally grateful.'

‘Thanks, Drew.'

Her voice was light and sweet, just like her scent. Everything about her was so feminine.

They reached the dam and Drew began to drive up the side of the white bank. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nat reach for something to hold. Billy whooped with joy as if he were on a rollercoaster.

Drew stopped not far from the water's edge, where the dam levelled out at the run-off entry point. ‘Let's go catch our lunch.' Jumping out, he reached for the big bucket while Billy carried the sorting tray.

Nat followed them to the water. ‘I see why my shoes would be a problem.'

Billy laughed, dropped the trays and reached for her hand. ‘I'll help you. We can do the first one together.'

Drew was half expecting Nat to decline but, like a child who was curious about how everything worked, she went along. Billy showed her how to pull on the rope, which was lying in the mud, and bring forth the net from the dam in a rush of water, covering their boots. Nat's were encased in mud as she struggled with the heavy net.

‘Oh, there's lots. What do we do with them?'

She held the net away from herself awkwardly, but, to her credit, she didn't drop it.

‘Here, I'll show you,' said Billy, taking it from her. He dumped the yabbies into the white sorting tray that Drew held over the large bucket. ‘See, now Dad will shake them through so we don't eat any that are too small. We put them back in the dam along with any with eggs.' Billy emptied out the tube with the dog kibbles in it and rolled up the rope while Drew threw the small ones back in.

‘Oh, no,' said Nat. She was shaking her foot, trying to dislodge the big pile of mud on the end of the boot.

Drew glanced at Billy and they began to smile.

‘It's all dirty,' she added.

Drew and Billy broke into laughter. She shot them a concerned look and they laughed even harder.

Nat threw her hands on her hips. ‘What's so funny?' she demanded, while fighting to keep a smile from her face.

‘Miss Wright,' said Billy. ‘They're boots. They're meant to get dirty. That's why we wear them.' He giggled again.

‘You think that's bad – wait till I show you the photos of Billy playing in the mud, or the time he helped me in the shed and covered himself in grease,' said Drew.

Nat raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. ‘I don't think I ever got dirty as a kid. Maybe in the sandpit or from eating, but I never did get to play in mud.'

‘It's a shame you're wearing that top,' said Drew just as he felt the first few drops of rain. He looked up. It was going to bucket down soon.

‘Why?'

‘'Cos I'd have grabbed a handful of mud and covered you in it,' he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Every kid should get dirty at some point. Quick, Billy, grab the other net, I think it's about to pour.'

Billy did as he was told while Nat held out her hands as the drops fell faster. ‘Should we run to the ute?' she asked.

‘You can,' said Drew. ‘But it's only water and I want my lunch,' he added teasingly.

For a second she watched him sort yabbies while the rain got heavier. Then she tilted her head back and held her hands out again. ‘Yes, you're right. It's only water.' Then she laughed and laughed.

‘Dad, is Miss Wright okay?' whispered Billy. He stood by Drew with the next full yabby net, his face screwed up in concern.

‘Yeah, son. She's fine.'

Drew wondered what was going on inside her head. Something was making her feel happy and he didn't think it was wearing his mum's boots, or the rain . . . But it didn't matter because the smile on his son's face was worth it. It was nice to have something different to think about. Except he couldn't help thinking just how much his mum would have loved meeting Natalie. She would have been someone to get to know and figure out. Alice always had to put her nose in other people's business but she did it with love and she wanted to help. Drew realised it was the first time he'd thought of his mum without wanting to fall on the ground and cry. But the emptiness was still there, the ache. He was parentless and it hurt like hell.