Blackwattle Lake

by Pamela Cook

Genres: General Fiction

Synopsis

For Eve Nicholls, walking up the driveway of her childhood home stirs up a whirlwind of emotion. The horses she loved still dot the paddocks, but the house is empty and the silence allows the past to come flooding back. She’s glad to have her best friend Banjo the kelpie with her, along with a bottle of bourbon. Her plan is simple – sell the farm, grab the cash and get the hell out. Within days of her return, Eve runs into all the people she hoped to avoid: the uncle who can't forgive, the ex who moved on and the best friend he moved on with. Sorting through a lifetime of clutter provides a distraction and slowly, she begins to discover the girl she used to be. Angie Flanagan – adventurous, animal-loving, vulnerable. When tragedy strikes once more, Eve realises that changing her name all those years ago has not changed who she really is or the truth of what happened.

Release date: November 27, 2012

Publisher: Hachette Australia

Print pages: 340

Sample

Only the faded floral armchair beside the door was empty. Apart from that the house looked just as it always had, sitting there smiling away at the end of the driveway, the verandah cluttered with boxes and bags. She couldn’t see clearly from where she sat behind the steering wheel but knew there’d be boots lined up along the wall, hats and Driza-Bones hanging on hooks, saddle blankets and tack scattered all over the place.

What was the expression – the more things change, the more they stay the same? Well, almost the same, but not quite. There were weeds strangling what was left of the garden, paint peeling from the white timber fences, a crushed Coke can littering the once spotless path. But apart from all that she could have been in a time warp. The horses were here still. She hadn’t been sure they would be after all these years, but here they were freckling the paddocks, heads lowered, chewing at tufts of grass to while away the day. Must be a dozen or more, she thought as she did a quick scan.

Yes, it all seemed pretty much the way it had been before she left. Except for one thing: the quiet. No people, no cars, no noise. Only the sound of wind rustling through gumleaves and the humming of cicadas working their way up to a crescendo somewhere above her head.

Eve took a deep breath and stepped down from the kombi. Everything inside her was shaking. Maybe being back here again wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. She bent over to open the gate. Damn. It was locked, padlocked, and she didn’t have the key. Or did she? She went back to the van and rummaged around in her bag until she found the set of keys, then tried each one, jamming them into the heavy metal lock that held the chain fast, turning them one way and then the next. But no luck.

‘Shit. Now what do we do, Banjo?’

The rust-coloured kelpie pricked his ears and stood to attention, giving her a lick on the hand.

‘Hmm, no help. Thanks anyway, mate.’

She leaned on the gate and rubbed the dog’s head. He sat and nuzzled against her leg, water dripping from his tongue. A magpie flew down onto the grass nearby, eyeing the pair as it strutted around pecking at the ground. Banjo stared back, watched its every move, let out a soft whine.

‘Stay.’

Eve could feel the sun burning into the back of her neck. She gave the gate one last rattle, half hoping it would do the trick. When it didn’t work she kicked it and refused to wince when her boot connected with metal. The magpie flapped away and Banjo’s ears drooped.

‘Oh well, no use just standing around, we’d better leave the van here and head on in.’

The side door of the kombi slid open with a clunk. Eve hauled a duffle bag from the back seat before leaning all her weight against the door and slamming it closed. Must get that bloody thing fixed one day, she thought. She shoved the bag through the gap between the fence railings and climbed through after it. The dog scrambled under and darted up the driveway, head down, sniffing in the glut of fresh smells. Eve swung the bag over her shoulder and followed. It was a strange sensation, walking towards the house she’d fled from as a seventeen-year-old. Everything then had been so crazy. She’d stormed out of the place without looking back, but inside she’d felt her whole life being sucked into a vortex, leaving just the shell of her, the part that was walking out the gate.

And that had been the end of the only life and place Eve had ever known.

Now here she was again, but it wouldn’t be for long. This time she’d leave with something behind her, some cash to set herself up, maybe even the chance to get a place of her own.

Banjo’s barks brought her back. ‘What is it, boy?’ He stopped and turned in front of her, still barking, his tail wagging wildly. A goose waddled towards them, swaggering along like a security guard, unperturbed by the dog’s complaints. As it got closer it stretched out its neck, pointed its crusty orange beak in warning and let out a loud hiss. Banjo cowered, then slunk behind Eve’s legs. The goose turned and headed back to the dam, job done.

‘You’re a real hero, aren’t you?’ Eve laughed as the dog came out from his hiding place, still wary. She whistled and he jumped up and darted around in circles, clearly happy the threat was gone, enjoying the space and freedom after the long drive. Eve too felt the knot in her shoulders soften. What had it been – four, no five hours on the road, with only a quick coffee stop. She’d smoked too many cigarettes on the way and listened to way too much country radio.

It was late afternoon now. The sun was sinking behind the hills and the softness of twilight had fallen. The sky was marbled, pink and orange and mauve. A family of ducks fluttered down and landed at the side of the dam. They plopped into the water one by one, the ducklings following along in a line behind their parents, leaving a pattern of circles that rippled out across the surface. Do ducks mate for life? Eve wondered as she watched them cruise through the reeds and slip up the bank of the small island of rock in the middle of the water. Doves do, and penguins, lots of animals in fact, it’s just humans who seem to have a problem with the concept.

Well, some humans anyway.

She pushed that thought as far into the back corner of her mind as it would go and kept walking, each footstep bringing her closer and closer to the house. The holding yards at the back of the main arena were empty. The last time she’d seen them they’d been filled with horses already saddled up for the trail, waiting patiently. That chestnut, the ugly little bay all the kids loved and Bella, the old draughty. Eve was supposed to be the one taking a group out for a ride that day, but she’d left well before they’d even arrived.

Okay, enough.

She turned the corner and walked up the steps, threw her bag on the verandah and herself down next to it. She didn’t like admitting it, but being back here again was stirring up more memories than she cared to deal with.

It surprised her, this storm of feeling that was brewing. It had all been a long time ago and she’d boxed it up with her old photos and heartaches and put it under lock and key. She’d moved on, made a new life for herself, left the wild, confused teenager that she’d once been far behind. It had taken a while but she’d dealt with all the shit that had happened here and she wasn’t going to let those ghosts come back to haunt her again.

Even if the most recently departed ghost was the reason for her return.

She pulled a cigarette from the packet in her bag and fumbled around in her pockets for a lighter before realising she’d left it in the car. She sighed and picked up the keys to the house instead, no excuse now to delay the inevitable, no reason not to open the door and step inside.

In the distance she heard a car approach and then stop. Banjo heard it too. They both stood and looked towards the end of the driveway where a figure was undoing the padlock and pushing open the gate. The man got back into the silver four-wheel drive he’d parked beside the kombi and started down the drive towards them.

Who the hell is this?

Banjo let out a yap.

‘Sshh. Drop.’ The dog whimpered and lay back down, chin between his paws, as Eve descended the steps, unlit cigarette and keys still in hand. The car pulled up by the shed and a tall, broad-shouldered man climbed out.

‘Hello, Angie.’

She knew the voice instantly but the face was a stranger’s. ‘Harry?’ As he came closer it was a shock to see him so grey, his weathered face more lined than she remembered. But not as big a shock as the name he’d called her. ‘No-one’s called me Angie for years.’

‘That’s your name, isn’t it?’

‘Not anymore. It’s Eve now.’ Her full name, as Harry well knew, was Evangeline. She’d never been able to work out why her mother had given her such a longwinded Victorian one but then again she’d never been able to work out a lot of things about her mother. And it had given her options. For the first seventeen years of her life she’d been Angie but, later, when she wanted to get as far away as possible from her adolescent self, she’d opted for Eve. The reality of being Angie again was like a slap in the face. She didn’t bother telling him she wasn’t a Flanagan anymore either.

‘Well, I used to be Uncle Harry to you, but now you’re all grown up I guess things have changed.’ There was a sarcastic tone to his voice that Eve braced herself against. ‘That your van out there?’ he said.

‘Yeah, couldn’t get the gate open. The solicitor gave me a bunch of keys but that one wasn’t on it.’

‘That’d be because it’s here.’ He slipped a key from his chain and held it up to show her. It was like he was baiting her, waiting for her to reach for it just so he could whip it away. But she wasn’t going to bite. Banjo wandered over and sniffed Harry’s leg. ‘Yours?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, we go everywhere together. Don’t we, Banj?’ At the sound of his name the dog trotted back to her and sat down. There was a silence while Eve stood her ground and waited for Harry to hand her the key.

‘I’ve been feeding the horses and looking after things a bit since …’ He looked at the house, down at the ground, scraped at the gravel with his foot. ‘Since your mother passed away. Haven’t had a whole lot of time but did what I could.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’

‘I didn’t do it for you.’ His voice was low but sharp as a blade.

‘No.’ Eve knew where this was heading but she didn’t want to go along for the ride. All she wanted was a cigarette, a drink and then a decent night’s sleep.

Harry looked towards the hill where the horses stood waiting at the fence for their evening meal and came a step closer before he continued. ‘What do you plan on doing?’ he asked.

‘With the place? Spruce it up a bit, get an agent in and put it on the market.’

‘Thought maybe you’d come back and settle. Keep the business going. Your mother would have wanted you to.’

Eve could feel her kneecaps quivering as she tried to control her rage. Who the hell was he to tell her what her mother would have wanted? It was none of his business what she chose to do with the place. Even though they hadn’t seen each other for twenty years, Nell had left her everything. It was hers now and she could do whatever she wanted with it. Without answering to anyone. She took a breath before she spoke again, made sure her voice was steady and composed.

‘Well, you know as well as I do that she and I hadn’t spoken for years. I’m not about to martyr myself just to keep the memory of a dead woman alive.’ She watched the way his jaw hardened at the reference to her mother. ‘And I haven’t been near a horse since I was seventeen.’

‘I don’t know what she was thinking, leaving this place to you.’ He was practically spitting the words at her now, any pretence of civility gone.

‘Me neither, but she did, so there you go.’ Now just piss off and leave me alone, you nosy old bastard.

‘Aren’t you even going to ask how she died? How she’d been all that time you hadn’t bothered to come back and see her?’

‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’ She folded her arms and waited for the assault.

Harry stared at her and she met his gaze. He was an old man now, not the fit, tanned ‘uncle’ who had carried her on his shoulders through the paddocks, lifted her over the fence so she could run all the way to his house, calling out to his wife, Aunty Margo, that the ‘princess’ was here for scones and cordial. She kept her eyes on him. Was he tearing up or was it the fading light playing tricks?

Shit, don’t do this to me, just let me get on with what I came here for and let everything else be.

‘You’re not the girl you were raised to be, Angie. But I guess we knew that a long time ago. I came over here to see if we could bury the hatchet, see if I could give you a hand. But if you’d rather I leave you alone then so be it.’

‘Thanks for the offer, Harry.’ She made a point of dropping the ‘Uncle’ bit again, just as he’d made a point of using her old name.

‘Suit yourself.’ He turned and went back around to the driver’s door without even looking at her again.

‘Harry.’

When she said his name he stopped but didn’t turn around.

‘Can I have the key?’

For a few moments the two of them froze in a silent stand-off, like two cardboard cut-outs positioned on a stage – Eve’s eyes focused on the thick waves of silver hair at the back of the man’s head, Harry’s left knee bent, heel lifted about to take the next step, his right hand holding the key in mid-air. He half turned then and threw it over the bonnet of the car. It landed in the dirt at the bottom of the steps. Banjo jumped up and sniffed it before circling around and depositing himself back down with a groan.

Dusk had deepened into the almost-black of evening. Eve bent and picked up the key and watched Harry’s car disappear in a storm of dust down the driveway. He swerved around the kombi and drove off without stopping to shut the gate. A hush fell across the property along with the darkness. She jiggled the keys in her hand, stared out into the night and shuddered.

‘We don’t need any help, do we, Banj? We’re just fine on our own, aren’t we?’

Just fine.

Eve woke to the sound of a rooster crowing and a head that didn’t want to move itself off the pillow. Although the outside of the house looked the same, her old room was barely recognisable: the pop-star posters that once covered the walls were gone and they were now painted a basic beige rather than the electric blue she’d slapped on when Nell had given her free rein. She dragged herself upright and peered through the lace curtains. A few brown hens strutted around their pen pecking at the grass. A gang of cockies perched on the top branches of a dead tree screeched in unison and took off into the morning sky. Back in Sydney it was the groaning of garbage trucks and the slamming of her neighbour’s front door that usually dragged her from sleep. Neither of which were as ear-piercing as these damned cockatoos.

Turn it down, guys, it’s barely daylight.

She fumbled around beneath the pillow for her phone – 6.07. Six messages. Urgh.

As she slumped back against the wall the empty bottle of bourbon on the bedside table fell to the floor and smashed on the timber boards.

‘Shit.’

Banjo, lying at the bottom of the bed, lifted his chin and wagged his tail.

‘Back to sleep for a while eh, matey.’

Her mouth tasted like sawdust. She let out a moan that Banjo mistook for an invitation and he crawled up beside her and licked her hand.

‘Oh, not now, Banjo, please. How about you go and get me a nice big glass of cold orange juice out of the fridge, boy?’

He sat up and gave her that silly grin.

‘S’pose you want to go out for a leak?’ He jumped off the bed, somehow dodging the pieces of glass, and ran to the bedroom door, gave it a scratch with his paw and looked back at her.

‘All right, come on then. I’ll clean this up later.’

Still dressed in the same T-shirt and bra she’d been wearing the day before, Eve negotiated her way through the mess and pulled on her jeans. She had no memory of polishing off the half-bottle of bourbon she’d brought in from the kombi that now lay in pieces on the floor. Ten years ago, or even five, she would’ve been able to down twice that amount without the faintest sign of a headache. Those were the days.

At the back door Banjo squeezed past her and raced down the steps, headed for the nearest tree.

The day was painfully bright and Eve squinted against the glare. Any minute now the sun would pierce a hole straight through her skull and fry her brain. She wished her sunglasses would magic themselves from wherever she’d left them and land right here on her face.

She stumbled back inside and pulled a cigarette from the packet on the table, relieved just at the feel of it between her fingers. As she lit and inhaled, watching the tip glow brighter, the rush of nicotine through her body soothed the ache in her head. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

‘Hallelujah.’

Next: coffee. She surveyed the kitchen. ‘This place is unbelievable.’

It looked exactly the same – the yellow formica tabletop and creaky chairs, the assortment of chipped teacups and faded lino floor. It had all seemed so normal to her as a kid. Now it looked like somewhere long past its use-by date. Nell never was one to waste her time or money on decorating.

But she had loved her caffeine and sitting there right beside the kettle was a tin of International Roast. Not exactly a double-shot espresso but better than nothing.

Thank you, Lord. Eve bowed her head in mock prayer as she filled the jug. The boiled water soon gurgled into the cup, mixing with the heaped spoon of coffee to make a deliciously dark brew. She breathed in the aroma, took another drag on her cigarette, exhaled and sipped. Now she was starting to feel human again.

I really should give all this crap up, she thought, retrieving her sunnies from the kitchen table and putting them into position. Maybe tomorrow.

‘Now, where’s that dog?’ The flyscreen door banged behind her as she stepped back outside, reverberating through her body like an electric shock. She plonked herself down on the old wooden bench that was right where it had always been, in between the steps and the septic tank, and took in the day.

A haze hovered over the grass, rising like a veil as she sat there and watched, leaving everything fresh and sharp. The smell of hay and horse manure floated in the air like the steam from some organic herbal potion. She hadn’t smelt that for such a long time, that unique mix of animals and earth, a reminder that everything was alive and growing. You could almost hear life bubbling away beneath the ground. In the paddock at the bottom of the yard a lone horse, a palomino, ambled up to the gate and whinnied. Eve felt herself smile at the sound and walked down past the old chook pen to greet it.

‘Hey there, pretty one, what are you doing down here all by yourself? You want some food?’ The horse moved its head away when Eve lifted her hand but she persevered, stroking him gently on the cheek. He leaned forward, arching his neck, clearly enjoying the attention. Over on the hill, the other horses were grazing. There wasn’t much grass and what there was looked brown and patchy. The mid-summer heat was taking its toll. Eve patted the horse. He bent down and sniffed the ground as if to emphasise his hunger. Harry’s abrupt departure yesterday, along with Eve’s preoccupation with her own emotions, meant the horses had missed their evening meal. She scratched the pally’s ear in apology.

‘Guess I’ll have to feed you and your mates.’

She did a mental count of the horses she could see. At least fourteen, possibly more over the rise.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to send Harry packing.

But better that than have him nosing around prying into her business and trying to make her feel guilty, so she’d best get on with it. She stubbed the cigarette butt out on the corrugated wall of the chicken shed and walked back to the house, relishing the feel of the soil beneath her bare feet.

Inside again, her eyes took a few seconds to adjust as she headed to the bedroom to dress. Her phone buzzed. Another text from Marcus: Where the hell are you?

‘Nowhere you’re going to find me in a hurry, dickhead.’

She turned the phon. . .