Close to Home

by Pamela Cook

Genres: General Fiction; Cultural Heritage; Family Life; Sagas; Westerns; Women's Fiction; Romance

Synopsis

A captivating story that shows the only thing harder than letting go is moving on. Orphaned at 13, Charlie Anderson has been on her own for a while. Not that she minds - she has her work as a vet, her friends, and most days that is enough. But then she's sent to a small town on the south coast of NSW to investigate a possible outbreak of the deadly Hendra virus. Travelling back, she will find herself torn between the haunting memories of her past and her dedication to the job. Returning to Naringup means coming face to face with the members of what is left of her dysfunctional family - her cousin Emma, who begged Charlie not to leave all those years ago, and Hazel, her mother's sister who allowed her abusive husband to spend all of Charlie's inheritance. When the local vet dies and more horses are taken ill, Charlie is caught in the centre of a professional, and a personal, crisis. Working with local Park Ranger Joel Drummond, Charlie finds herself drawn not only to Joel but to his eccentric mother, siblings and sister-in-law. Through them, she begins to understand what it means to be part of a family. As the panic around Hendra increases, and Emma's husband starts to make threats, tensions in the country town rise. While trying to remain professionally distant, Charlie must decide whether to run away from her family or step up and allow them back in. But can she reconcile with the past and find herself a new future in the town she left long ago? This is smart writing from Pamela Cook, who manages to tug at the heart strings, while keeping the brain fully engaged. - Book Birdy A strong heroine, cheeky hero, a close-knit country community and a hint of danger and suspense makes Close to Home an engaging and easy read. I'd recommend it. - Australian Bookshelf

Release date: June 30, 2015

Publisher: Hachette Australia

Print pages: 336

Sample

A SEA OF BLACK WINGS BEAT AGAINST THE SKY, FANNING the dying embers of the day. Charlie Anderson settled into the worn cane chair to watch the spectacle. Impossible as it was to make out the individual anatomy of the creatures, in her mind’s eye she could see each small, furry body suspended between membranes of leathery skin. The bats flew silently, saving their chatter for darkness, when they would feast on the nectar of eucalyptus blossoms or the flesh of whatever exotic fruit they might find. She’d tried to count them once, but it had been a pointless exercise and she’d settled on ‘hundreds’ as a rough estimate. As twilight deepened into dusk and the last of the local colony of flying foxes disappeared, she wriggled forward and picked up her wine from the wooden crate she used as a makeshift table. Her Friday night treat, a glass of crisp, cool sauvignon blanc, signalling the end of her working week.

She gave a slight shiver and rubbed at the goosebumps dimpling her bare arms. There was a chill to the evening air, a sure sign autumn was well and truly here, but she was too comfortable to move inside. Taking another sip of wine, she leant back and gazed out at the curtain of greenery cocooning the house. Another rental place, like all the others she’d lived in, but this one was something special. The perfect place to unwind. Whether it was the warm timbers of the house itself or the calm dripping from the rainforest of trees that formed the backyard, Charlie wasn’t sure, but there was a sense of peace here she’d never found anywhere else. A sense that both soothed and disturbed her in equal measure. This had been the closest she’d come to wanting to put down roots since she’d left university, and yet there was still something missing.

Or someone, a voice sighed into her ear, as she stared out at the deepening shadows, the house at rest behind her, silent and empty. She gulped at the wine. Work was what sustained her, defined her, the gauge by which she measured her success. The problem was she had too much time on her hands now with only routine vet consultations filling up her days, and that meant too much time to think. A plan for the weekend was what she needed to spark her up, maybe a hike up Mount Warning or a walk along the coastal track. Being outdoors, moving, getting out of her head, always helped.

Charlie’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast – maybe it was time to see what she could rustle up from the leftovers crowding her fridge. The thought dragged her up and out of her chair just as a shrill ring fractured the quiet.

‘Seriously?’ she muttered, depositing her glass and picking up her phone. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed the caller ID. Why would her boss be calling at this time on a Friday night, all the way from Sydney? So much for relaxing. Swallowing back her annoyance, she answered in what she hoped was a breezy tone. ‘Hi, Alex. How’s things?’

‘Good, good,’ he replied, his voice smooth as honey on the other end of the line. ‘Haven’t caught you at a bad time, I hope?’

‘No, just sitting out on my deck enjoying the ambience, usual Friday night thing.’ She hesitated. ‘You know, unwinding after a busy week.’

‘So, no partying in town for you tonight?’

‘You know that’s not my scene, Alex.’

‘Wouldn’t hurt you to let your hair down occasionally.’

She had to smile at the irony of his advice. Alex was twelve years her senior and, while she appreciated his paternal interest in her welfare, she was quite capable of managing her own social life. ‘Says the man who spends most of his time at the office.’

‘You’re not getting any younger, Charlie. That clock’s going to start ticking soon and I wouldn’t want you to be left on the shelf.’

Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘I know about Chris’s engagement, Alex, and his baby news. It doesn’t bother me.’

‘Hmm.’

Time to change the subject. ‘Anyway, were you calling merely to see what I’m doing this weekend or is there another reason for this conversation?’ While the two of them were friendly, he usually didn’t ring her to make small talk.

‘As a matter of fact, I’m calling about something quite serious.’

Charlie noticed the shift in tone from lighthearted to businesslike. She stood and stepped towards the edge of the deck, resting her free hand on the railing. ‘Okay.’

‘I got a call from the local Landcare manager down on the south coast.’ She heard him hesitate, weighing his words. ‘He suspects they might have an outbreak of the virus down there.’

Charlie tightened her grip on the wooden balustrade. Oh no, not hendra.

‘What’s happened?’

‘One horse dead,’ replied Alex. ‘Six days ago. Vet called it as colic.’

‘But you don’t think it’s colic.’

‘I don’t, no. The vet who treated the horse …’

Charlie heard the words coming and felt her stomach coil.

‘He’s come down sick. Pretty bad, by the sounds of it. Fever, headache, sore throat. According to his doctor, it’s a bout of the flu.’

She heard the scepticism in his voice and pressed the phone closer to her ear, looking out at the garden. ‘We shouldn’t jump to any panicky conclusions.’

Alex grunted. ‘It’s not just me. The vet nurse there rang it in and reported it as suspicious.’

‘Right. How far south are we talking?’

‘About three and a half hours out of Sydney.’

Her heart took another little jump.

‘Horses all over the place,’ Alex continued, ‘so we need to check it out.’

Charlie kept her voice calm. ‘It’s unlikely the virus could have spread so far down the coast, though. Based on what we know, I mean, about how it’s spread to date. Highly unlikely.’

‘Yes, but you know how unpredictable this thing can be. We can’t take any chances. And remember, a bat tested positive in South Australia a while back.’

‘How’s the uptake of the vaccine been in the area you’re talking about?’ Charlie could feel her Friday night wellbeing draining away. The scientist in her could hear all the warning bells, and with each new piece of information from Alex, she felt another tiny tug of dread.

‘Low uptake,’ Alex replied. ‘Low uptake, lots of horses, and one more worrying thing …’

‘Don’t tell me …’ She knew what was coming now.

‘There’s a bat colony in the national park there – and the park adjoins the property in question.’

Bats.

Charlie looked out into the night. Not long ago this sky had been swarming with them. It was the bats that had brought her to Lismore, in a roundabout way. Or at least the virus that began with the bats, which saw her being called from property to property examining sick horses, spending hours, days and weeks dealing with distraught clients and reactions bordering on hysteria. Thankfully so much progress had been made in the eighteen months since she’d arrived, and so much data collected and analysed, that they now had a better handle on the disease. An outbreak on the south coast wasn’t impossible, but it would be completely out of the blue.

The unease she was feeling was about more than the virus, though. Just over three hours south of the city? High numbers of horses? Charlie gazed steadily into the now-vacant sky, asking her next question out loud. ‘So where exactly is this place?’

‘Naringup. Thought you might know it. Didn’t you grow up down there somewhere?’

She bit her bottom lip, but the gasp still escaped. ‘Yeah, I did.’

Exactly there, she thought, picking up her glass and throwing back the last mouthful of wine.

‘So how soon can you be packed and ready to leave?’

‘You want me to go and investigate this?’ She already knew the answer, but stalling seemed the only way of quelling the rising tide of nausea.

‘Yes, Charlie, you. We need someone who knows this virus inside and out and you’re the best we’ve got.’

‘You mean I’m the only available person you’ve got.’ There were other vets and scientists working for the Department of Primary Industries, her co-workers, who could do this job just as well as she could. She knew it and she knew Alex knew it. But most of the others had ties. Children and family commitments that meant they preferred to stay in one place, not travel the countryside like nomads.

‘Charlie? Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’ Calm and professional, that was how she needed to deal with this.

‘Like I said, I need the best. Won’t hurt that you know the area and possibly some of the locals.’

‘Look, Alex, I’m flattered, but I’m really busy up here. I don’t think I can get away right now. Isn’t there anyone else?’

‘No, frankly, there’s not. And this has nothing to do with flattery.’ He was getting testy now, pulling rank. ‘If this is what it looks like, we need to get on top of it fast. There’s also the chance this could produce some important research, and it is your specialty area. You have the skills and the knowledge to handle it, Charlie. You’re the one I want running the show.’

She tried, but failed, to suppress a sigh. Alex had so much faith in her, and she didn’t want to let him down, but the thought of returning to the place where she’d spent her teenage years set not only her teeth but her entire body on edge. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up, as if standing the whole of her 177 centimetres would somehow give her the courage to agree to Alex’s request. ‘How long will I have to be down there?’

‘Hard to tell. Might be a false alarm, or it could be a full-blown outbreak. If it is, we’re going to need you there to manage things for the duration.’ His tone softened. ‘So, are you in?’

The duration. A month. Possibly more. She stared out into the almost dark, at the silhouette of a rambling bougainvillea bush growing completely out of control, its tendrils beginning to wrap themselves around the verandah post not far from where she was standing. She’d sworn to herself she’d never go back. The memories of the six years she’d spent in Naringup had been long since boxed away, but they began to creep out again now, tightening like a thorny vine around her heart.

This is your job.

It’s important.

You can do this.

The voice that had given her the strength to stand on her own two feet all those years ago spoke to her again now, prompting her to finally answer Alex. ‘Fine. I’ll do it. When do you want me there?’

‘Asap. I can book you on a flight down to Sydney tomorrow morning, meet you at the airport with a department car and you’ll be there by late tomorrow afternoon.’

‘No!’ The night fell still around her. She sat back heavily into the chair, steadying herself before she continued. ‘I mean, I’d rather have my own car. I’ve got all my equipment in the boot already, won’t take me long to throw a bag of clothes together. I can leave tonight.’

Alex took his time absorbing her response. ‘Charlie, are you crazy? You’re – what – nine hours away from Sydney? And it’s another few hours on top of that. It’s a hell of a drive, and it’s late.’

‘I’ll be out of here within an hour. I know a place at Port Macquarie where I can stop over and then head off in the morning. I’ll take a few breaks – it’ll be fine.’ She was trying hard to sound nonchalant and hoped it was working. There was no way she was getting on a plane. Even the thought of it made a thin film of perspiration break out across her temples. ‘I really need my own car,’ she repeated.

Alex sighed, clearly exasperated. ‘Whatever you want, Charlie. I’ll make a motel booking for you somewhere in the town and email you through all the information I’ve been given so far, including the address of the affected property and the contact details for the vet. I’ll need you to keep me updated on a daily basis.’

And I need to get off the phone and get my head around this, she thought.

Now.

‘Great – thanks, Alex. I’d better get packing.’

‘Bye, Charlie. Drive safely.’

She lowered the phone and placed it on the table. Bundling her mane of blonde curls into a knot at the back of her head, she pinned it there beneath her hands, feeling the taut stretch of muscle in her armpits. She drew another deep draught of air into her lungs. It helped ease the panic that was beginning to take hold. Naringup. It wasn’t the thought of returning to the place so much as the people. The ones who had let her down so badly – and the one she’d let down in turn.

You can do it.

Charlie listened to those words repeating themselves in her head – words she’d learnt from her mother, the same words that had helped her through the hard times when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. Now was not the time to give in to fear. She had a job to do, a job she loved, an important job that was helping to curb the spread of a deadly disease, deadly to both horses and humans. And if that meant facing a few demons from the past, then so be it.

She picked up her phone and the empty wineglass, thinking it was lucky she’d only had one. Hauling herself to her feet, she turned away from the dark indigo sky and the sounds of cicadas and frogs in the garden she now had to abandon. It was time to pack a bag and get ready for a long, unwelcome road trip south.

CHARLIE’S EYES WATERED AS SHE STARED AT THE RIBBON of road unfurling in front of her. It had been almost eight hours behind the wheel after a restless sleep in the motel. And that wasn’t counting the four and a half hours she’d done the previous night. Alex had been right when he said a flight would be more practical, but even this horrible driver fatigue wouldn’t be enough to convince her to step through the doors of a plane. So, four cups of coffee, a barely edible burger and two headache pills later, she still hadn’t arrived in Naringup. She checked the screen of her TomTom – thirteen minutes until she reached her destination.

‘Hallelujah,’ she muttered.

Operating from memory alone she wouldn’t have had a clue. She’d only made this trip twice before – once when she was twelve, leaving Sydney, and once when she returned to the city at age eighteen. And nothing in between – no visits to friends left behind, no holidays, no shopping trips. A clean break. It was ‘for the best’ they’d said, and she’d had no choice but to fit in and toe the line. What else could she have done? She’d only been a child, at the mercy of adults who made all the decisions. Her old life was swapped for another, completely different world.

A churning began in her stomach and she wasn’t sure if it was the takeaway food she’d eaten or her current thought pattern that was doing the damage. Either way she needed to get her mind focused on something else.

The scenery – always a good option. It was certainly a beautiful part of the world. Miles of tall, thin gums, grey bark peeling away to reveal the white flesh of trunks stretching skywards. Giant grass trees, their knobbly stumps sprouting headfuls of spiky green hair, brown spears standing to attention. And in between the stretches of state forest, acres of rolling farmlands dotted with cows and horses.

Horses. All over the place, just as Alex had said.

If his suspicions were right, and this developed into a serious outbreak, it could be as bad as – or worse than – what had already happened in Queensland and northern New South Wales. In the early days, before the sort of research she and her colleagues had undertaken, horse owners had no protection against the virus. But since the vaccine had been made available they had the choice to safeguard their animals – and themselves. So why did so many choose not to? Yes, the vaccine was relatively new and there was a cost involved, but wasn’t saving lives the priority?

It is for me, Charlie thought, but obviously not for a lot of people. If the horses could speak I know what option they’d take.

She stifled a laugh. She’d always thought animals had more sense than humans. It was why she’d chosen to study veterinary science rather than medicine.

According to the Google search she’d done last night in the motel, Naringup was now full of tree changers, possibly ones who weren’t into vaccinations of any kind – no matter the species. She’d added that observation to the notes in the file she’d made, skimming the reports Alex had emailed her and making a plan for when she arrived in the town.

There’s probably been a lot of other changes too, she thought now, slowing down to take a tighter than expected bend. Then she saw the town up ahead, the faint glint of the river spanned by an arching steel bridge. She was almost there.

And that’s when her stomach started to cartwheel rather than just spin.

Get a grip on yourself, Charlie.

Taking her own advice, she pushed back her shoulders, sat taller in the seat and started mentally reviewing what she knew of the case. Possible hendra – with the emphasis on possible – one dead horse, and a vet who could have a bad cold or who, looking at a worst-case scenario, could be dead within a matter of days. From what she’d been told and read on email, he was the best person to interview to try to glean more information. She hoped to god he was willing – and well enough. Hard evidence was the only way she would be able to determine what they were dealing with – tests would have to be done, people questioned, quarantine measures undertaken if it came to that – so she needed everyone involved to cooperate.

The vet, Walter Murray, lived on the same site as the surgery, so that was going to be her first stop. She knew from past experience that the disease could progress rapidly once it took hold, so it was crucial she speak to him sooner rather than later. The quicker she sorted this thing out, the faster she could get her job done and leave.

Again.



As soon as Charlie reached the edge of town she got her bearings. The vet surgery was at the southern end, a couple of blocks past the old bakery. She turned off the TomTom and cruised towards the main street. Her jaw dropped as she took in the sight, unconsciously lifting her foot from the accelerator. The slightly shabby street she remembered had been transformed into a vibrant village. She drove slowly, marvelling at the multitude of cafés, all with alfresco tables, a few up-market boutiques, a European-style delicatessen and gift shops dotted down its length. There was even a Spanish tapas restaurant called ‘Flamenco’. Very chic. The old bakery, which she recalled as a worn building with pink paint peeling from its facade, had been revamped as an organic bread shop, the cream buns and lamingtons that once decorated its window replaced by loaves of sourdough and home-style muffins. The tired concrete footpath had been upgraded to terracotta paving, complete with rubbish bins that looked like abstract works of art and small, circular gardens bursting with lavender, musk-pink roses and sprays of white butterfly bush. Smartly dressed people sat sipping coffee or browsed in shop windows. For a Saturday afternoon in a country town, the place seemed surprisingly lively.

Charlie dragged her eyes back to the road, surprised to see a set of traffic lights changing from orange to red just up ahead. In the years she’d spent here, there’d barely been need for a stop sign, let alone a set of lights, but the onslaught of city escapees had obviously had a drastic impact. I wonder how the locals feel about the invasion, she thought with a wry grin. When she’d been forced to move here from the city, the almost mind-numbingly slow pace of the town had made her feel like she’d travelled back in time. She’d missed the hustle and bustle of Sydney streets, even at such a young age, craved the sense of variety that came with life in an inner-city suburb. Naringup definitely seemed to have had an injection of both in recent times.

She slowed to a stop not long after the intersection, outside a freshly painted cottage. Leaning over the dashboard, she read the sign on the fence: ‘Walter Murray, Veterinary Surgeon, Opening Hours Monday–Friday 9 am–4 pm’. A second building sat at the far end of the driveway. Probably the vet’s residence. She switched off the ignition, chewing on her bottom lip as she stared at the time – 2.10 pm. Should she really be disturbing the man on a Saturday afternoon, especially when he was sick? But the urgent need to get the facts and her worry that Walter Murray might deteriorate further stifled any doubt.

She locked the car and made her way to the back of the surgery. The house was a quaint colonial-style painted in various shades of cream, a replica of the main original building at the front of the block. Alex had told her that Walter had been the vet here for the last fifteen years, which meant he’d arrived about a year after she’d left. It was a good thing that she didn’t actually know him – it would make it easier to keep the situation businesslike. She stepped up to the door and pressed the buzzer, triggering a raucous chorus of barking and the appearance of a black Scottish terrier behind the flyscreen.

‘Hi there,’ Charlie greeted the dog, who fell quiet and wagged his tail in reply. Footsteps sounded at the other end of the hallway before a stocky woman sporting a neat grey bob joined the Scotty at the door.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m Charlie Anderson. From the Department of Primary Industries.’ She’d presumed Alex had told them she was coming, but the lack of response from the woman behind the screen door suggested otherwise. ‘I was wondering if I could speak to Mr Murray?’

‘My husband isn’t well enough to see you right now, I’m sorry.’ A steely tone belied the apology. ‘You can come back tomorrow if he’s feeling up to a visit.’

Tomorrow could be too late, Charlie thought. ‘I was hoping I could chat to him straight away, before I head out to the affected property.’ She smiled. ‘I won’t keep him long.’

‘Walter already wrote a report and spoke to the Landcare people. He’s done everything that was needed.’

‘Absolutely, he has, Mrs Murray. I just thought he might be able to walk me through the case personally, so I know exactly what happened. It won’t take . . .