Unexpected Delivery Read online

Vivienne’s shaking hands wiped away the moisture gathering in her eyes.

  Staying close to her, Violet started, “I’m terribly sorry, but you have to understand, this has been our life . . .

  At full height, back to her adult self, anger pummelled through Vivienne. It overtook her. “How dare you!” she roared, fighting against all common sense. “I’m just doing my job, I don’t deserve to be yelled at let alone have things thrown at me. . .”

  “Hang on there, love,” George interrupted now entirely calm. “I didn’t throw anything at you, I just acted in frustration, didn’t I, Vi, you tell her.”

  “Firstly, I’m not your love and secondly, that vase nearly hit my head. You could have injured me,” Vivienne said as heat rose up her neck. Her nostrils flared and sweat formed on her brow.

  “You’re just a bully and no one, no woman,” she said swivelling toward his wife, “deserves to be treated that way.”

  “God damn it. I’m sorry, alright, I’m angry. We are about to lose our home and livelihood. How would you feel?” His voice came out high-pitched.

  “Obviously, I’d be upset but I wouldn’t be losing my cool like you. Let’s talk about this like adults, for goodness sake.”

  “I think you’d better put that kettle on, Vi,” George said.

  Without a word, his wife moved away from Vivienne towards the kitchen.

  Uninvited, Vivienne picked up one of the tumbled chairs and sat down. She placed her hands in her lap to stop their trembling.

  Her experience in the country was sure turning out swell.

  After two cups of strong, milky tea, Bunyatree Dairy milk, of course, and one too many homemade chocolate chip cookies, Vivienne rose to leave. She’d worked some magic.

  Having talked through their circumstances, Vivienne offered various suggestions and options, like a session of therapy. This is why she worked as a contract lawyer behind closed doors, untouched by the inherent tragedy in the world around her. This was hard work. She didn’t have the appropriate skills for the handling of these situations. Or maybe she did? She’d done all right.

  By listening to their story, she’d managed to comfort George and Violet and shed a tear, too. It was sad and she honestly felt sorry for them.

  Business management was not her brief but the double degree of business and law meant Vivienne had learned the basics. Like many in the town of Rosebrooke, this salt-of-the-earth hardworking couple had fallen victim to the modern age. Once upon a time they’d been the only service station in town. It had been a profitable business with comfortable margins, good customer service and deserved loyalty. It had sure helped that it had been over twenty kilometres to the next fuel. The garage had serviced local cars and managed breakdowns with aplomb. Their debt had been manageable.

  Until, the major supermarket Marchants had fought its way into life in the idyllic village.

  “You should have been there, Vivienne.” They were on first name basis after the first hour. “The town battled hard to keep them out. No one supported a major chain store setting up home here. Who’d want to shop there? We had our veggie gardens, the co-op, the convenience store and we knew all those people. They were our friends. We all helped each other. But money talks, doesn’t it?”

  “The supermarket conglomerate had money and power and persuasion and after fighting for almost two years, we lost.” Hands in lap, Violet hung her head. The wounds of the battle still raw despite the passing of time.

  “George and I fought with them. We were happy with the ways things were, but in the end, they built the monstrosity you see just on the outskirts of town. They needed lots of land you see to build their big supermarket, to stock it with everything imaginable, things not even related to food.”

  George cut in. “So after the failure of halting development, we accepted it and got on with our lives. What Violet and I didn’t realise was that along with the super brand food came reduced-price petrol. Shop with them and they’ll give you four percent discount at the bowser. That sounds bad, right? But we thought we were still okay, until, of course, they built their own fancy, high-tech service station out the front of the supermarket. We couldn’t compete with the lower price fuel then.

  “All our friends stuck with us, but half our profit is tourism. On the weekends, the street is lined with visitors and when they are having fun, enjoying a relaxing weekend, they spend money. And they used to refuel here before travelling home to where ever that might be, buy an ice cream for the trip, or ask me to fix their battery that had unexpectedly died or the hose pipe that had just burst. Of course, with popularity of name and brand, visitors go to who they know and people recognise the product of Marchants and the familiarity of what it sells. We’ve been dying every day since.” George’s chin dropped to his chest and all the air left his lungs. His face went blank. Now his words were soft, all anger gone, replaced with sorrow and regret.

  Violet placed her hand on his leg.

  Through the passage of time George and Violet had eroded their manageable mortgage to pay staff and maintain the garage. It had come to a grinding halt when they realised redrawing to pay the one and same mortgage just simply didn’t work. And since then the bank had ridden them, demanding answers and getting none. Being the people, they were, they just kept working hoping all would be okay.

  As expected of her, Vivienne had provided the glossy brochures about hardship applications, and brainstormed payment plans, loans and consolidated debt. It gave the Andersons a lot to think about. With her job done for today she had agreed to call back another time and determine if she or the bank could assist any further after they’d had time to think about the best way forward. In contrast to her welcome, Violet gave Vivienne a tight and long embrace on departure and George mustered a soft pat to her shoulder. That gesture had chuffed her.

  Usually, she walked from her office at the end of a long business day with a swing in her gait. She’d be joyous and fulfilled after a day of drafting, meticulous checking and settling of documents. If she’d detected an error in a contract and rectified it, she’d been jubilant.

  Today she dragged her feet up the incline and did not regard the quaint shops. An ache sat behind her eyes, pulsing, making it hard to think. Vivienne rubbed her temples. The meeting had ended positively, but it was not an outcome to be celebrated. Tonight, while she drank fine wine and ate dinner, relaxed with a book or watched T.V., George and Violet would be dreading their future and be uncertain where they might end up on a train that was veering fast out of control.

  For the first time, Vivienne had no job satisfaction and it devastated her. She craved the bitter tang of wine on her tongue and couldn’t wait for the taste to lessen the events of the day; to shake the boulders weighing down her shoulders and wash herself of the dirty job she’d had to perform.

  Chapter Four

  “Do you little rascals want anything to eat before I head out to the creek paddock?” Daniel patted down his son’s curls and rubbed the nape of his daughter’s neck. His children were chalk and cheese; his sweet blonde-haired girl with ocean-blue eyes, and Colton, a mini him. His son was dark to Sarina’s fairness. Colton had also inherited Daniel’s thick mop of unruly hair.

  “Yes please!” they sang out.

  “Eggs?”

  “No!”

  “Salad sandwiches?”

  “No!”

  “Baked beans?”

  “No!”

  “Cheese and vegemite on toast?”

  “Yes,” they cried out louder.

  “Okay, cheese and vegemite on toast it is. Sarina, can you please get out the bread and Colton, grab the cheese and vegemite.”

  “What’s for dinner, Dad?” his son asked pausing as he coloured in at the kitchen table. His sister beside him flicked through Possum Magic.

  “Maybe we’ll have sausages and veggies. What do ya think?”

  “I love sausages—”

  “Did I hear someone mention sausages?” said the reed thin man who entere
d the kitchen.

  Sarina’s face lit up. She ran over and got swept up in an embrace that swung her high above the man’s head.

  “Do it again, Ned, do it again,” the little girl pleaded as she was returned to the ground.

  “Only if you say pretty please with sugar on top.” Ned grinned as he waited for compliance. Sarina happily rattled off the words until it was impossible for him to refuse.

  “What about my sausages?” he said as he swung her again.

  “No sausages yet, Ned, that’s later, but Dad’s making cheese and vegemite on toast. Want some?”

  “Yes, please. That’s my absolute favourite. I’ll just put the kettle on to have it with my tea.” He spoke in an English accent causing the children to burst into giggles.

  “What can we do now, Ned?” Sarina asked at the same time as Colton said, “Do you want to see my drawing, Ned?”

  “I love being so popular. Let’s eat first and then decide. I’ve done all my jobs and I’m free this afternoon, unless old dad boss has more tasks for me.” Ned looked at Daniel as he stood at the bench compiling sandwiches.

  Daniel was concentrating and didn’t answer. When he served up the food, Ned approached him as he wiped away the crumbs. The loud kitchen noise had died down as the children shovelled food into their mouths.

  “What’s up next, mate?” Ned slapped Daniel on the back, his own mouth half-full of food.

  “I’m heading off to herd the cows from the lower creek paddock to up higher. Grass is getting a bit lean around the creek. Can you believe it after all the rain we’ve had?”

  “Yeah, but they sure do eat a fair bit and all that trampling under heavy hooves, best to move’em around.” The two men nodded in agreement.

  “Want me to come along? I’m done for the day. I’ve checked all the others, milking is humming along, cows happy but it’s sure getting chilly out there.” For the children’s sake, he acted out rubbing his arms and trembling with cold.

  “Nah, mate, I’m good. You stay in here and rug up by the fire.” Daniel joked as he tossed Ned a woollen blanket.

  After the frost of winter departed from the range, the fireplace became a sweet memory never ignited during glorious spring, even if the temperatures hovered low at night. Just thinking about it, Daniel rubbed his own arms to stay warm. Ned slopped a cup of tea in front of him. Daniel took a long sip of the warm drink to keep the chills at bay.

  He watched his children and his best mate and farmhand, Ned. Unfamiliar—or perhaps forgotten—sensations flooded through him. Occasionally he was caught off guard with overwhelming happiness; most often from simple scenes like the one in front of him.

  Oh, how he loved it when it happened. Reminded him that it was still possible to experience joy. His eyes grew misty at the thought.

  But large rips remained in his heart; gaping wounds that he doubted could ever be repaired. But, centimetre by small stitch, the holes filled in with these scenes and his broken heart swelled.

  The house had not been a joyous place for the last couple of years because of his dark moods. So, anytime his kids giggled and had fun, it made him think they were doing okay. Now, the six-year-old twins sat with wide smiles, laughing at whatever ridiculousness Ned served up. They both adored him and he’d been a rock to Daniel. Ned had kept him alive through the bad days.

  Ned rose from the table and tripped over the chair leg, his brain not catching up with his lanky frame. Colton burst into laughter, holding his small hand over his mouth to avoid spitting out his food.

  “I say, kids, whilst Dad here finishes up with the moo moos, we should play Twister. What do ya think?” So confident of their answer, he screamed and ran around the room unable to contain his excitement. Giving him just the reaction he hoped for, the children exploded from their own seats like rockets, crumbs and knives and forks dropping. They joined Ned in the screaming and raucous behaviour until all three collapsed to the floor. Sarina scrounged through the bookshelf.

  “Here it is.” She presented the box of multi-coloured circles.

  Daniel wished he could stay. Ned playing Twister with his stretched limbs and body parts extended beyond where they should be, would be a hilarious sight. But, duty called. And, anyway, Daniel loved being outdoors; it was his favourite place. Like food refuelled your body, nature reinvigorated his soul, and restored calm and peace to an otherwise tumultuous and overactive brain.

  Satisfied the children were busy and having fun, he left. The children didn’t notice his departure, but Ned gave him a curt nod that did not interrupt the flow of his movements from blue hand to green foot. Once again grateful to his friend, he slipped away.

  Ned had been right.

  The temperature had dipped and his jacket hung on the railing in the hall. There was another reason he’d rather be outside. Cooped up indoors, the grief and guilt of old memories would remain alive and as much as he tried, he found it hard to shift them within the confines of the house. Outside, like magic, all negative feelings and thoughts vanished, flew away on the wind and allowed him respite from the battle in his head. By choice, he’d always be outdoors. Daniel believed at these moments, in the fresh air and natural environment that anything was possible. With the invisible weight lifted, he whistled a tune as he walked, the two dogs trailing after him.

  Leaves blown from the Bunya trees rustled under his feet. The wind had scattered piles of them across the fields, piling close to the driveway and road. It was another job to add to his list—raking the leaves.

  Usually, by the time spring arrived, the winds had scampered. Its presence a sure sign winter still had them in its clutches, unwilling to say goodbye just yet for another year.

  Majestic Bunya trees lined the driveway, grew close to the house and formed a protective guard of honour as his wife, Sarah, used to say. Their strong trunks did not even sway in the wind. Their distinctive dome-shaped profiles alerted you to the farm’s entry as you approached.

  Daniel winced when his foot twisted. His boot stood upon one of the fallen cones, their rough texture and nut-like shape a danger to any unsuspecting ankle.

  Further down the slope of the farm, the grand Bunyas became scarcer, allowing sizeable patches of green grass to roll untouched by shade and bask in the sun’s glory. His beasts meandered up the hill, travelling past the homestead and across the driveway in no hurry, crunching the gravel as they went. They followed each behind the other in an ordered fashion. In the fading dusk light, splashes of black and white peppered the green hills.

  The short distance from the creek must have felt like a marathon for them when carrying up to fifteen hundred pounds— more if they hadn’t been milked. The weight of a full udder made the climb more difficult and the cow slower than usual. Daniel puffed as he climbed the rise, looking where he stepped to avoid any nasty surprises left by the herd.

  He scooped up a long, gnarled stick from the big gum bordering the creek and held it in his hand. It acted as a prop, really, as his well-behaved group rarely required reminding of what he expected. Plus, it was handy as support for his weary body climbing up the incline. He grinned; the stick matched his farmer’s attire of Akubra hat, checked flannelette shirt and dusty and ripped jeans.

  Every now and again, especially when his bull wanted to become acquainted with his fillies, the stick might need to be brandished around, but that wasn’t likely today. Benny the bull remained secure in his own paddock, only to be released when he needed to breed. Benny was a rough old bugger; you wouldn’t want to be a female in his sight when he was set free. Daniel’s grin grew wider. His cow’s heads were bowed over the extensive, lush greenery lining the road traversing the farm. The property stretched for acres and when the dirt road became bitumen it sliced his land in half. So now, as the cows travelled to the beautiful visage up high, they had to cross over the public road.

  Hardly a thoroughfare, only local traffic used it, but Daniel left the gates wide open without a second thought. Cars in this region were well
versed in driving slowly and swerving corners carefully. No maniac wanted to go head to head with a heifer; the car would lose.

  Content to let the animals enjoy a ‘coffee break’ en route, Daniel leaned on the fence chewing a twig of hay between his teeth. The herd blocked the road in both directions, a sea of black and white. Their munching could be heard in the quiet of the afternoon.

  At this vantage point, the last ray of sun spilled through the mountain range warming his skin and easing the chill. Five more minutes and the sun would sink for another day and the cool would enter his bones. As Daniel spat the straw onto the asphalt, a flash of bright pink and green sparkled in his peripheral vision. Startled, he turned too quickly and cracked his neck.

  “For Christ’s sake!”

  The cows were not disturbed as they focused on eating the luscious grass. Whereas, the woman turned this way and that attempting to break away. Her arms flailed around her body, her eyes were wide with fear and her mouth sat open.

  Her.

  Again.

  This was becoming a habit.

  Exposed in her tight-fitting gear, nothing was left to imagination. Large breasts heaved with the force of her breaths, her hands to her face cupping flushed cheeks, stifled her words. With her frantic movements, she would soon work the cows up and that wouldn’t be good. Despite the animals surrounding her, he had a full view of her long limbs and ample bottom. Her hair was kept out of her face by a pale-yellow tennis cap. A thick ponytail streamed down her back and spun with her at each turn.

  A bright and inviting Christmas decoration stood amongst his herd, a rainbow of colour mixed with the base of white and black and the darkening sky. As the seconds passed he watched her until she jumped when a hide touched her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled across four cow lengths.

  She looked up. Her eyebrows reached toward a glistening forehead as she looked around for where the voice came from. She hadn’t seen him yet.

  She spotted him and her face softened and then her shoulders dropped. “Thank God! I’m so glad you’re here. What do I do? Will they hurt me?” She squealed the last two words as a wide, white backside bumped her forward making her connect with the waxy, black nose of another.