Standing Strong Read online

  ‘Exhausting! To be honest. She’s a sweet baby and Sarah seems to be coping in her new role of mother very well. I thought being a grandmother was meant to be nothing but fun. But I’m exhausted, and I was only there for one night! Tilly’s got a great set of lungs on her. I really don’t have the patience I once had.’

  ‘Nonsense, look at all you did for the injured buck and joey – and right through the nights.’

  ‘Hmm, maybe I don’t like human babies very much. And don’t you dare tell my daughter that, if ever she deigns to visit!’

  Jacqueline laughed. ‘My lips are sealed,’ she said. ‘Did you like Sarah when she was a baby?’

  ‘I think so. I always gooed and gahhed over baby animals, but I was never really clucky or desperate for a human baby, but back then it was what one did, no questions asked. If I had my time again I might have chosen a different path – not that Sarah hasn’t brought me a great deal of joy and pride along the way. It’s just that children do cause you a lot of worry – you never stop. Oh, listen to me, going on like an old crow. I’m just sleep deprived and it felt like a long drive. It’s very good to be home.’

  ‘And it’s very good to have you home.’

  ‘So you indicated. I’d like to know why, specifically,’ Ethel said, narrowing her eyes to stare pointedly at Jacqueline.

  Jacqueline shifted in her chair and kept eating.

  ‘There is something going on with you. And don’t you dare take me for a fool and say there isn’t, that all is fine. Because it’s not,’ she said, waving her fork at Jacqueline across the desk. ‘Come on, spill, as you young ones say.’

  Jacqueline put her knife and fork down. ‘Speaking of fools – oh, Ethel, I’ve been the biggest.’

  ‘Oh? Are you in trouble with Doctor Squire again?’

  ‘No. Not yet. I didn’t know how I could have forgotten, totally blocked it out – that’s the really worrying bit,’ Jacqueline rambled.

  ‘Dear, you’re not making any sense.’

  Jacqueline shook her head as if to get the jumble in her mind into some sort of order.

  ‘Getting involved with Damien was a breach of my professional ethics.’

  ‘But he’s not a patient any more, and you weren’t involved when he was.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. There’s a twenty-four month exclusion period. I’ll lose my registration.’

  ‘Oh, hell.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So can you ask someone for an exemption or something?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, haven’t you asked?’

  ‘There’s no need. Damien dumped me, so technically I’m not doing anything wrong now. I’ll be fine if no one realises the rule exists and I don’t get dobbed in.’

  ‘Now, hang on. Go back a bit. Damien dumped you? Why?’

  ‘Because of all of this. He doesn’t want me losing my registration and this town losing their psychology services.’

  ‘Oh, bless him. The poor boy.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘So, what does Squire say about this?’

  ‘He doesn’t know. If I confide in him, the mandatory reporting clause as part of his ethics will mean he has to report me.’

  ‘Christ, you really have got yourself into a pickle, haven’t you? Did you know about this twenty-four month thing, or could you plead ignorance if it came to it?’

  ‘Yes, I knew about it. But for some reason, I totally forgot, blocked it out or something. Not exactly a sound defence,’ Jacqueline said, colouring with embarrassment.

  ‘Well, dear, what with moving out here, having that thug turn up to stalk you and losing your car in the fire, I’m not surprised it slipped your mind. Could that be a defence? What do they call it – extenuating circumstances?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the right word. But I doubt it.’

  ‘But you haven’t asked?’

  ‘No. Well, Damien’s solved it.’

  ‘But has he? You’re okay with waiting for two years before you can be together? If you are, you’ve got better patience than me, my girl!’

  ‘I don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice.’

  ‘But you’re made for each other.’

  ‘I thought so too,’ Jacqueline said sadly.

  ‘How could you have been so stupid?’ Ethel suddenly scolded quite loudly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ethel, you couldn’t make me feel any worse than I already do.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed with the system, or your profession, or whoever’s rule it is.’

  ‘Rules are there for a reason – in this case to protect the vulnerable.’

  ‘But he only saw you a couple of times.’

  ‘Once would have been enough.’

  ‘I still think Squire needs to know. Maybe he can offer a solution – write to the board, beg them to give you an exception because of being a vital rural service, or something.’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell him. While he doesn’t know and I’m not involved with Damien, my job is safe, and the community service is safe.’

  ‘But surely you can see that that’s not workable – not in the long term.’

  ‘It’s early days, I know, but I don’t have a choice. We’ll have to wait to be together.’

  ‘But you’re still running the gauntlet, hoping no one dobs you in, because you’d still get in trouble for the past week or so, even if it’s over, wouldn’t you?’ Ethel said thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s no way to live.’

  No, but it’s now my reality.

  ‘Poor Damien. After all he’s been through,’ Ethel said, and, after a shake of her head, she resumed eating her meal.

  Jacqueline followed her lead. While she ate, she could see the intense concentration etched in Ethel’s worn face. She was trying to find a way out of this mess. But there was no way. Well, there was – to come clean and resign. But Damien had taken that option off the table.

  When the silence stretched into awkward territory, they automatically turned to talk of the weather – how it had been, what the forecast was predicting, and how most of the time the reports got it wrong.

  Finally, Ethel had repacked her picnic basket and was ready to leave.

  ‘Thanks for lunch. And I’m so sorry,’ Jacqueline said, hugging her friend at the door. It was a much quicker, looser hug than earlier, but she was grateful. She only hoped her friend’s new demeanour was down to being distracted rather than being angry at her. Poor Ethel was now as good as in the middle of everything. Being a fixer and a strong leader in the community, she’d struggle to sit back and leave well alone. Jacqueline really hoped she would. Any well-meaning intervention could have the opposite result. The trouble with Ethel – and Jacqueline was seeing a similar trait in many of her patients out here – was that she tended to consider things quite clear cut, black and white. Country people seemed to be practical people who thought things were simply right or wrong. In this case, she feared Ethel considered Jacqueline right for the town and right for Damien and the psychology board and its rules keeping them apart wrong, and might get it into her head to do something about it.

  Jacqueline deliberately hadn’t told her about the glimmer of hope that was renouncing her registration and begging Doctor Squire to keep her on as a counsellor. Deep down, she was struggling with whether Damien was worth giving up her precious pieces of university paper she’d worked so hard for. She knew she loved him and was serious about making a life with him. Such a thought was very selfish. But she didn’t want to one day resent Damien and their relationship for her sacrifice. She might be new at counselling people and having a proper adult relationship, but she knew enough to know that’s how it went more often than not when tough choices had to be made. She knew Damien could see it and if he didn’t he would when she pointed it out. So, while being apart was bad, it was best for the long-term health of their relationship. Perhaps she should have explained that to Ethel. But then she w
ould have come off looking self-absorbed – making it all about her: What if I resent him later? And it probably showed a weakness in her character.

  It was a mess, but at that moment it was contained. She only hoped Ethel would leave well alone and things would stay the way they were – not ideal, but workable.

  But the reality was she had no control over what Ethel, or anyone else, was going to do. All she could do was hope for the best.

  Chapter Six

  Damien put Squish and the joey in her pouch in the front of the ute and clipped Bob and Cara on the back. He gave the two farm dogs an extra few pats, making a big fuss of them as he thought for the umpteenth time back to the amazing job they had done getting the sheep moved amid the smoke, chaos and stress of the fire. They deserved a bloody medal for saving all those lives. Yeah, the sheep were insured to the hilt along with everything else thanks to his mum, but Damien was pretty sure hearing the stock as they died in pain and seeing a whole mob of blackened corpses would have sent him over the edge. Sight was a powerful sense, but he reckoned smell and sound could even be worse for creating lasting memories. He’d never forget the smell of the singed fur of the young buck – that was etched on his mind. Thankfully there had been a good outcome, otherwise he’d have more, worse, nightmares than he already did. Thanks to these guys, he didn’t have to close his eyes at night and see his sheep writhing around and hear them screaming out in pain.

  ‘You guys did so well,’ he said, rubbing their ears. ‘Come on, let’s take another look around.’ Damien liked getting out and taking a drive around his place, even more so now after the fire. While he hated seeing the black areas where he’d lost valuable stubble and pasture, it was a good reminder of how much worse it all could have been.

  He drove over the rise. There were the dozen or so kangaroos he’d seen the other morning happily grazing. They collectively raised their heads to determine the level of threat. Damien skirted around them, being careful to leave plenty of distance.

  Paused at the top of the next rise, he watched his two thousand or so sheep down in the gully grazing as carefree as they’d always done. If only they knew how lucky they were. He hadn’t lost all of his feed and his last crop had been good, so there was plenty of stubble. He’d always resented sheep until recently; he’d been angry at the world and they’d really just got in the way. But he’d changed. God, if someone had told him this time last year how different he’d be he’d have told them they were crazy.

  ‘Well, they all look happy enough, eh, Squish?’ he said, patting the little rotund dog stretched out on the seat beside him.

  Satisfied that all was fine in his patch of the great outdoors, Damien headed back to his van, waving an arm out the window in greeting to the guys in the tip trucks and loaders who were cleaning up the remains of his house and taking it away. They should be finished today. He was glad for all the community support – left to his own devices, he might have just carted it up behind the scrub and dumped it just out of sight along with the several generations of dead cars already there. But this was a much better result.

  He’d just got settled with a cup of coffee when there was a tap on the door. He was a little taken aback as he hadn’t heard a vehicle pull up. But then he wouldn’t would he, he realised, over the roar of the loaders. He got up and opened the door, fully expecting it to be one of the truck drivers needing him for something.

  But it wasn’t. Standing there just below the steps was his mother. Since when did she knock and not just barge in? Now there was a turn-up for the books. Tina never just dropped by, it was always for something to do with the farm or to tell him his house was a mess.

  ‘Mum. Hi. Come in,’ he said, pushing the door wide. She looked a little tired, but then she was going through a marriage break-up. That’d do it. Thank God she’d finally seen the light and turfed out the dickhead old shearer. Fancy the cheeky bastard having a bit on the side for months. So much for this town not being able to keep a secret. And he couldn’t believe someone who had so clearly been hit with the ugly stick pulling two reasonably good-looking sorts. Perhaps Leanne – the other woman – had been lonely like his mum.

  He sure hoped his mum wasn’t wasting too much energy on Geoff. Oh well, it was none of his business. All he had to do was refrain from knocking the bloke’s head off when he saw him next. Though, hell, he’d been restraining himself from doing that since practically the day he’d hooked up with Tina. Then he’d kept his opinions and fists to himself. Now he was a different bloke anyway. A lover, not a fighter, as the saying went, he thought with a chuckle to himself.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘I’ve just made one.’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘So how are you settling in?’ she asked, seated on the lounge behind the small table and looking around. ‘This looks comfortable.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s good. Pretty small, but does the trick.’ And beggars can’t be choosers. That thought ran through his mind quite a bit these days – usually when he got frustrated at not having his own stuff around him. He’d walked past the framed photos on the mantel every day for years and not paused or given them a second thought. Now he’d give his right arm to have them back. It really was the little things that were the hardest to deal with. But he kept reminding himself that he had his memories of his dad, was now fulfilling his dream, and he had Squish, Cara and Bob, so he was damned lucky. He needed to stop moaning and dwelling.

  ‘How’s the trip planning going?’ he asked for something to say.

  ‘Slowly. I’m holding off booking flights until my passport arrives. Apparently you can get some great last-minute deals.’

  Well, would you listen to that, Damien thought, the world’s most organised person holding off for last-minute flights! He almost snorted at the unlikeliness of it. But she didn’t look uptight; that as-tightly-wound-as-a-spring-waiting-to-uncoil-at-any-moment intensity was missing. She seemed relatively okay in the circumstances.

  ‘Have you spoken to Lucy?’

  ‘I’ve left a couple of messages. I think I keep getting the time difference wrong,’ she said, lifting a hand from her mug and then putting it back again.

  Damien reckoned his sister, Lucy, was more than likely right by the phone each time, listening to the messages, pacing back and forth in her shoebox–sized apartment, trying to figure out how to stop her mother visiting.

  He rarely spoke to Lucy – they really had nothing in common – but he’d actually been half-expecting a panicked distress call from his sister regarding Tina’s impending visit. Good to be kept out of it, he thought. Anyway, it was Lucy’s turn to put up with their mother – he’d had her dropping in, looking him and his house up and down, finding fault and criticising him for all these years. Let his sister have it for a few days. In his mind, it wouldn’t go well.

  He couldn’t understand why Tina was doing it. Surely she remembered how they really didn’t get on? Though Tina didn’t tend to be the most perceptive person around. He was really beginning to see that, now his eyes had been opened by Jacqueline. But even he, with his limited knowledge of the human species, could see that his mother was totally self-absorbed and tended not to notice, or chose to ignore, the negative body language of anyone around her. Hence, the whole Geoff thing. I rest my case. He loved his mum – that was programmed in from day one, right? – but he could also see that she was her own worst enemy.

  Auntie Ethel had said this trip to see Lucy was all about what people think. One must go and visit one’s daughter if she’s moved away. It was expected: impressions were everything out here. And there would never be an utterance of, ‘Oh, no, I won’t stay with my daughter, we don’t really get on.’ You might get, ‘Oh, no, I won’t stay with my daughter, she really doesn’t have the space,’ to save face. People constructed all sorts of facades to avoid looking like they had a failing. Heaven forbid one admitted to having a problem, especially a dysfunctional family. He’d been caught up in the mindset, too, and look where that had nearly
ended. He might be a clueless bloke when it came to all this sort of stuff, but he wasn’t blind or stupid. And if Tina thought she was going to go off to London and stay in her daughter’s tiny flat for even a few days and it not end very badly, then she clearly was blind and/or stupid. Someone should point that out. But it wouldn’t be him. He’d stay well out of it. If she needed taking to the airport down in Lincoln and collecting again, fine, but that was going to be the extent of his involvement.

  ‘She could at least phone me back,’ Tina said.

  ‘Well, I’m sure she’s pretty busy with her job and social life, and everything,’ he said lamely. And avoiding her mother. That was the good thing about numbers appearing on phones these days – you could choose who you picked up for.

  ‘So, how’s everything going?’

  ‘Good. Good. Lots to do though,’ he said. This was getting bloody awkward. Any minute now and he would have to resort to asking after her with regards the break-up, and he really didn’t want to do that and risk tears. It wasn’t tears, per se, he had a problem with, but Tina – always stoic – bursting into tears and needing comforting would completely freak him out.

  Just as the awkward silence was descending, there was another knock on the door. Saved by the bell – well, sort of, he thought with relief and got up.

  There stood a bloke he didn’t know the name of but thought looked vaguely familiar. He held a cardboard apple box – the sort with a lid that slid over the top of an inner box and had air holes in the sides. ‘Um, er, you take unwanted animals, don’t you?’ he said, thrusting the box at Damien.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Damien said, accepting it.

  ‘Cool, thanks.’ The man bolted back to the old white Commodore parked nearby.

  Damien stood wondering if he should do anything else. This was his first case of surrender. It would have been hard enough for the guy to front up without worrying about being asked questions. He shuddered as he thought about how it would have been far easier for him to drown the creatures or leave them to die somewhere – like on the side of the road, as someone had done with Squish. He felt a wave of gratitude towards the guy and on behalf of whatever was in the box. He really needed to set up something at the farm gate where people could remain totally anonymous, he thought. Perhaps he could leave a cheap mobile phone there – secured so no bastard could steal it – so people could alert him when they’d left something. Hmm. He’d ponder it. There was a growing list of ponderings, he realised, as he turned and went back inside.