Letters in Blue, page 13
Sprawled in front of the television that evening, Lucy glanced across at her father. The fans above them churned with the regular thump that was not exactly distracting but did require the volume to be increased if they wanted to hear every word emitted from whatever show they were watching. Although Brent’s attention appeared to be focused on the TV, Lucy was sure his mind was light-years away from The Flying Doctors.
‘Dad?’
She waited for a beat, but he made no movement.
‘Dad!’
He jumped then and stared at her with wide eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘Something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?’
He heaved a sigh.
She walked over to the television and switched it off then returned to the couch and rested her hands in her lap, waiting.
‘It’s the farm.’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘The drought?’
He shook his head. ‘That isn’t helping, but no … it’s more than that.’ Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he straightened as though preparing to deliver a report.
‘Go on,’ she urged.
‘I suppose I’m missing your mum. We had so many plans. She was the ideas person, and I was always … well, the follower I suppose. She wanted to branch out into alternative methods of farming. Put our eggs in more than one basket is what she meant, I guess.’
‘I get it, Dad.’ Having not been part of any discussions about the farm’s future, Lucy had simply expected it to always be there. Her home to retreat to when she needed it. But now she could see there was far more to it than coping with the weather and doing their best to make a living from the cattle and crops. There was a lifestyle to balance—and the loss of Leigh and her own accident had put more obstacles in Brent’s way than he was currently able to cope with.
‘You want to stay here though, don’t you?’ A frisson of fear wormed its way inside her. While she had managed living in Brisbane for the duration of her training, the farm had always been her bolt hole—her home and her solace. Life without it wouldn’t be worth living.
‘I do. Of course. But without Leigh, now I’m not so sure.’
A lump in Lucy’s throat formed and she tried to swallow it as she stared at him, her face soft. They had been so happy. Never wealthy but content in their own cocooned way. With the wide land, blue skies, horses, stock, and a loving family, it had been all they’d needed. But now the time had come for change—and she suddenly realised that lapses of memory or not, it was over to her to put things right. At least as much as possible.
‘Okay,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll get paper and a pen, and we’ll make a start on fixing this.’
Ignoring Brent’s confused frown, she marched into the study nook, picked up a pen and pad, and returned to the lounge.
‘Tell me about Mum’s plans—or dreams.’
‘Well, she was right into changing our farming methods. You know, reducing chemicals for a start. We’ve been doing that. For the last two years, we’ve rotated the crops, slashed the paddocks, and reduced the number of cattle in order for the native grasses to regenerate. We built those new fences so we could cell graze. And, of course, your mother has ordered and planted more trees than this place has ever seen. But now, with this drought, it doesn’t matter what we do—nature is against us,’ he finished despondently.
Lucy knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him in an awkward hug. ‘Aww, Dad. I understand how much you want to follow the plan, but perhaps now we need to rethink our strategies—especially since they’re predicting this El Nino could go on for months or even years.’
Over a cup of tea and with Lucy’s dogged determination and scribbled notes, by ten o’clock that night, a new plan was in place. They would reduce the cattle and keep only the best breeders and bulls—thus saving more land being churned to dust than necessary and enabling them to ration feed, hopefully eliminating the need to delve into their meagre savings or worse—increasing the mortgage. They would also minimise fuel consumption by not following other farmers in the area who insisted on ploughing the land “so we’re ready to plant as soon as the rain comes”.
‘We’ll concentrate on looking after the trees, even though I know they won’t bring in any money. At least then, no matter what happens, there will be a legacy here for the next generation. Who knows what timber will be required in thirty or forty years.’ She paused and drew a deep breath. ‘Also, I’m going to apply for a job at the hospital.’
‘But,’ Brent spluttered. ‘You’re not well yet. You’ve barely driven since your accident and working in town will mean you’ll be in the car for almost two hours every day.’
‘I’m fine, Dad. If I lived in the city, it could take every bit of that to get to work. Anyway, I may have forgotten a few bits and pieces of my life but it’s slowly returning and perhaps getting back into nursing will help me—that is if they’ll let me?’
Her boldness waned as she considered the doctor’s comments. He had suggested she wouldn’t be fit to return to work until her headaches eased and she regained her memory—but she knew he had been referring to returning to her previous duties as a registered nurse in a large hospital. What if she changed tack and instead applied for something in the aged care facility where she could work under supervision? They were always crying out for staff—and a willing and qualified nurse would surely be better than no one, even if she couldn’t remember the previous few months’ activities. At least she would be able to bring in enough income to tide them over the drought—no matter how long it continued for.
‘We’d love you to join us for Christmas,’ the voice boomed down the phone the following morning as Lucy was about to walk out the door.
She blinked at Finlay’s commanding tone. Their neighbour, Robert’s father, had always been domineering, his large stature and big voice a little frightening. But his community spirit was generous to a fault, and it wouldn’t be the first time the Venables’ home had overflowed at Christmas with what he termed “orphans” from around the district. If he or his wife, Belinda, heard of a neighbour or friend having a quiet Christmas with little or no family, they were swooped up in the Venables’ encompassing arms and added to the crowded veranda that surrounded the massive Dalgonally homestead.
‘Thanks, Mr Venables,’ she said. ‘That would be lovely.’
Before she could add more, he roared again. ‘Call me Fin. You’re all adults now, so we can cut the formalities. Anyway, I hear young Robert’s more than a bit keen to include you in our family. This’ll be a great start to new beginnings.’
‘Umm … thank you. I’ll ring Belinda later to see what we can bring.’ Her chest thumped. Was Robert clutching at straws when he’d suggested his interest in her to his family? They had been friends for years but … she wracked her addled brain. Had there ever been a suggestion of more than that?
The clang of the phone jangled in her ear as Fin hung up. That was it? She and her father had been summoned to Dalgonally for Christmas lunch—and no one refused!
A week later, she sat at the sixteen-seat table running almost the length of the Dalgonally homestead veranda. A second table formed the head of a T where Finlay, Belinda, and two of their four sons sat. At the opposite end, four children perched around a tiny table, half the height of the adults’ chairs.
Daunted by the crowd, Lucy squirmed as the Venables family focused on her, bringing up events from her childhood that she had no recollection of. It seemed she and Robert had been competitive, both vying for first place at any pony club sports days. Although some of it rang true, she was sure the depth of friendship between them was exaggerated. Her gaze slid sideways to Robert as she sensed his eyes on her. There was a perception of familiarity about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why she felt no emotion. No fluttering in her stomach. Not even a hot flush of embarrassment. She glanced down the table to where her father was listening intently to something Jeff Longford, a middle-aged bachelor renowned for his love of alcohol and exhaustingly lengthy conversations, was saying.
Poor Dad. Her mouth twitched in an attempted smile. You’ll be deaf by the time the day’s over.
‘I hear you’re starting work in aged care next week, Lucy,’ Belinda said, jolting Lucy’s attention back to the present.
‘Oh. Umm, yes.’ She didn’t elaborate on the upsetting interview she’d had with the hospital board. “Until your memory has returned, we’re reluctant to employ you in case you’re put in an unsupervised position and make a mistake. I’m sure you understand how difficult that could be for both you, and the patient.” She’d nodded in silence, biting back tears of despair and frustration.
She’d gone straight to the café afterwards and ordered a chicken sandwich and a strong coffee. Then she’d driven to the aged care home and, within an hour, had returned to her car, her head spinning with elation and a start date of the third of January 1991.
Belinda reached over and patted Lucy’s hand. ‘You’ll be perfect there. What with all that training you’ve done—and you have a sweet nature. The residents will love you.’
Lucy’s eyes widened in disbelief. How would Belinda know what she was like? She may have mixed with the Venable boys as children, but now … except for seeing more of Robert over the past few weeks than she remembered in her youth, she knew very little about the “grown up” family—and they knew even less about her. At least that’s what she hoped!
27
Queensland, June 1991 – Lucy
She stood on the veranda and gazed over the paddocks as the white ute approached the house gate. The last six months had sped by in a flash. With both the Venables family and her father’s encouragement, Robert had spent increasingly long days “helping” at Binnalong—and the relationship between him and Lucy had developed. No longer the competitive children on horseback, she looked forward to seeing him each morning as he arrived either in a ute or on a quad bike. They had continued to plant trees together, drove around the farm checking stock and fences, mustered and drenched the cattle—and had even spent weeks sanding and repainting the outside of the Binnalong homestead in comfortable camaraderie under Brent’s increasingly hopeful gaze.
It had been over the Easter weekend when Robert had asked her to marry him. A surprisingly good fall of rain had ensured the dams once again glistened in the early autumn sunshine, and they had taken the opportunity to have a picnic and swim before they opened the gate and let the cattle in.
Although the drought was continuing, the few summer showers had boosted everyone’s moods, and although Robert’s proposal came as a surprise to Lucy, she’d accepted, relieved that whatever it was that had been hanging in the back of her mind had floated away. Her memory still contained gaps, the most significant being the year leading up to her accident. But apart from recognising the occasional European tourist attraction or a pretty English country scene that seemed familiar, Lucy had dismissed them as being places she must have visited on her overseas sojourn.
Robert leapt up the steps and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around. She giggled, enjoying the moment of joy, despite her misgivings.
‘Only one week to go.’
‘I know.’ She pointed to the cabin under construction on the other side of the machinery shed. ‘By the time we get back from our honeymoon, that will be finished and Dad will have moved in—I hope, anyway.’
‘Are you sure you want to stay here? I mean, the cottages Dad’s had built at home are modern and we could make one of them exactly the way we want it.’
She shook her head, astounded that he would bring up the subject again, despite the arrangements made weeks earlier. ‘Absolutely. Dad doesn’t want to be left trying to look after this place. Mum and I have always loved it, and I couldn’t leave him here anyway. I owe it to her. He’s excited about the cabin—and this way we will all have more privacy and can still work the two properties together as our fathers have suggested.’
He held his palms up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Okay. Just checking.’
‘You’re not exactly moving far from home. Ten minutes, fifteen at most from one house to the other across the back lane, especially now you’ve installed the cattle grids. No more gates to have to open and shut.’ She smiled at him again as she spoke. The past few weeks had included a whirlwind of family discussions and plans. She had felt powerless in the tornado of excitement that surrounded her—even if her stomach still flipped at the thought of being married.
‘Okay, so are you ready to join us at Dalgonally for our final pre-wedding dinner?’
She nodded. ‘Dad said he won’t be long. Just getting through the shower then he’ll follow.’
He grabbed her hand. ‘Great. Come on then—soon-to-be-Mrs-Venables.’
As she slid into the passenger seat, the familiar whisper of doubt filtered through her insides. She brushed it away as his deep blue eyes met hers. It was his iris’s that had done it. The vivid shade that hung in the back of her mind. She’d known the love of her life had those same sapphire-coloured eyes—and unless she had made a dreadful mistake, they could only belong to Robert.
As they rattled past the struggling crops, Lucy reflected on her father’s positivity. Brent had assured her the Easter rain was a good omen and Leigh was watching over them. Even if the barley never got to a head, it would provide good winter feed for their remaining cattle. That and the chickpea crop he had risked planting would see them through another year if they were careful.
Over the months of sharing the weekly dinner at Dalgonally, Lucy began to feel like a part of the Venables family. Snippets of memory returned as events of the past were discussed and while watching a recent travel program on television, Lucy had been delighted to recognise familiar German landmarks. At first, she’d presumed it was because she’d seen pictures in magazines and in the windows of travel agencies. But then, one night when the program featured Bavaria, she knew she had been there. It had been toward the end of the European winter, and she could almost feel the frosty air touch her face.
Spending more time with regular male company had eased much of Brent’s depression too—a problem Lucy was relieved and delighted to witness.
Both she and Brent looked forward to their regular inter-family get-togethers, and with only infrequent chats with Mandy, she looked forward to catching up with Matthew’s wife, Kylie and their young son, Dylan. With the exception of the staff and patients she cared for during her three days a week at the nursing home, Kylie was the only other female she saw on a regular basis. She valued the friendship of the kind, cheerful woman only a few years older than herself.
The rest of each week sped past and sometimes she was sure there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day to get done what she wanted to. Farm work, maintaining the lawn and what little garden was surviving the drought, and caring for the precious trees took most of her outside time, even with Robert’s help. Although Mandy had returned to the farm infrequently since the accident, Lucy never missed giving the house a good clean each Friday—just in case her critical sister decided to spring an unexpected visit on them and critique her cleanliness.
As they approached the Dalgonally homestead, Lucy released a long, slow breath. The house was huge, it’s deep, insect-screened verandas encompassing all four sides of the building, allowing ample shade from the scorching summer sun. The long side facing the irrigated lawn, shady trees and central rose garden provided oodles of space for the massive table that allowed all family, staff, and friends to dine free of flies—and a safe runway for little Dylan to scoot up and down the boards on his trike.
Fifty metres away, on the far side of the outbuildings, two neat cottages in their final stages of construction shone in the evening light. One had been designated for Matthew and Kylie as, although the homestead was spacious, their little family was growing with baby number two due soon. Kylie had begged for a place of their own and, with pressure and understanding from Belinda, Finlay had agreed to add to his kingdom and had arranged for the construction of not one but two new dwellings. The second would be used for staff quarters during the busy periods of harvesting and mustering—"Unless Robert and Lucy change their minds and move in,” Finlay had remarked hopefully.
‘No way,’ Lucy had said when she and Robert discussed it afterwards. ‘We’ve been through all this before. Dad needs me. Our boundaries are joined, and you’ll be working on both properties so it shouldn’t matter where you live—but I am staying on Binnalong.’
There had been a few moments silence after her declaration, but she didn’t care. Robert was the one who, with his parents’ encouragement, had pressed for their marriage to happen sooner rather than later. She’d wanted longer to think about it. But, with the frailty she occasionally felt without her memory, she eventually agreed with her father. Robert wanted to care for her. She wondered if in some way he felt a little responsible for her accident. Was it possible she would have noticed the swinging hook if she hadn’t been distracted by the headlights of his ute? She wasn’t sure. Or was it an admission of something being absent from their relationship? If she truly loved him, wouldn’t she feel a need, a desire, or even a desperation to be together always no matter the situation? She kept the thought to herself. Perhaps she was dreaming of something that didn’t exist? She was confident that Robert loved her, was a kind and gentle person much like her father, and they were good friends.
Would that be enough? She hoped so.
Their wedding day dawned cold but with the clear blue skies that only a frosty winter’s day could bring.
With the quantity of family and friends the Venables had invited too numerous to consider a small wedding on the Binnalong lawn, Lucy had resigned herself to fitting in with whatever Finlay and Belinda arranged. She had spent three Saturday mornings with Laurel, an old friend of her mother’s who also happened to be a clever seamstress, and an elegant, satin-lined chiffon gown had been pieced lovingly together—and a soft lavender version made for Mandy, her one and only bridesmaid.
