A Changing Land(15)
‘Of course,’ Hamish placated, aware his eldest would be holed up at the Wangallon Town Hotel for a time, no doubt dipping his wick before returning for Christmas.
‘And may we obtain some greenery with which to decorate the verandah’s wooden posts? And can we have our own tree, Hamish? As long as it’s green and sappy when freshly cut’, she argued, ‘it could be carefully trimmed with coloured paper and candles.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Why did women need to unburden their minds with every morsel of what comprised their heads? Did he really look that interested? As if cued to relieve him of such tedious examining, his son Angus raced out of the house. His violet eyes flicked to the freedom of the garden and beyond, then he was running towards them, his sandy-coloured hair plastered to his brow with beads of sweat, a slingshot in his hand. Claire placed a restraining arm on Angus, drawing him to her side. Already the child was dishevelled, his hands grimy with dirt. ‘Walk if you please, Angus,’ Claire reprimanded. ‘And don’t fire at the maids or the cat,’ Claire reminded her son.
‘It’s like father’s,’ Angus responded proudly, holding the slingshot towards his mother.
Claire had long since learnt that her husband’s early years in the highlands of Scotland did not lend themselves to idle hours of play. They were spent carrying rocks to build fences, shovelling cow manure from their dirt-floored hut during the winter and burying his small sisters, brothers and finally his mother. No wonder he had left his homeland.
‘Come, Angus.’ Hamish got to his feet. Angus followed his father without glancing back.
Left alone on the verandah, Claire fluffed her skirts. Her husband and son shared a bond Claire could never be a part of. There was a knowing within them both, an understanding of each other’s role within their respective lives. As a mother she knew how fortunate they were to have such a relationship. As a woman it was almost as if she had been abandoned on a barren island, even though she knew their behaviour was not meant to cause pain.
Sarah and Shelley were chopping down jade near the back gate. The plant was overgrown and it was taking quite a lot of muscle to saw through the thick woody stems. Bullet sat nearby, occasionally looking up as if to join in on the conversation.
‘So it’s that serious then?’ Sarah asked, wiping perspiration from her forehead. It was a mild 20 degrees yet by midafternoon a southerly change would be upon them with the temperature due to drop to six degrees overnight.
‘Serious enough to be talking marriage.’ Shelley was almost coy.
‘Marriage,’ Sarah squealed. Extricating a wrist-thick trunk of jade she threw it on top of the pile in the wheel barrow and gave Shelley a hug. ‘And it took the whole weekend for you to tell me?’
Shelley removed her black sweater and retied her recently dyed hair. This year blonde was her colour of choice and considering she was finally in a great relationship and had been promoted to senior consultant at the recruitment firm where she worked, clearly it was the pick of the five different shades she had road-tested over the last three years. ‘Two reasons. Firstly I figured it was bad luck to say anything before I was officially engaged.’
‘Couldn’t help yourself?’ Sarah teased.
‘Secondly, well, I don’t want a long engagement.’ Shelley hesitated, ‘I don’t think it’s necessary, not if you really love someone.’ She looked pointedly at Sarah as her friend began sawing through another fibrous branch.
Sarah passed her the saw. ‘Here, you have a go.’
‘Please don’t get angry, Sarah, but are you happy? Really happy?’ Shelley stared at her, the saw dangling from her hands.
‘Of course, silly. I just don’t see the rush. We’re not exactly over the hill. I’m not quite twenty-five.’ Retrieving the saw Sarah attacked another section of the jade. Shelley always managed to push her buttons. ‘Besides, there’s been a fair bit for me to come to terms with and I just haven’t been in the right place to go forward.’
‘But I heard you arguing this morning and you rarely come down to Sydney anymore and what happened to your photography? It was your profession and you were damn good at it. I don’t want you staying here for a bunch of ghosts,’ Shelley said sullenly. Her closest friend was like a frog in a sock and she didn’t even realise it.
‘I’m not an employee, Shelley.’ Sarah snapped. ‘Look, Wangallon is a big business and I’m in charge.’ Taking a breath, she calmed. ‘Actually I’ve just started taking a few shots again.’