The adults had just settled in to enjoy their morning coffee when a ruckus broke out down the hall.
“Give it back, you little turnip!” Danica’s voice drifted up from the girls’ bedroom and into the kitchen, shocking Mishy. She had never heard her eldest daughter use such hateful language and against one of her own siblings.
Mishy pushed her chair back and made a determined gait towards the girls’ bedroom. “What’s going on down here and why are you using such hurtful language, Danica?!”
“Jess took my CD while I was asleep, Mum!”
“Jess, give it back right now and why are you going to sleep listening to rock music, Danica?!”
Jess wandered over to where her older sister was lying and handed her property back. “Sorry, Danica,” Jess whispered.
Mishy intercepted the CD player before Danica could grasp the machine. “Judging by your behaviour, Danica, I think I would like to listen to the messages this group is feeding you.”
“It’s in Italian, Mum. I’m not listening to the words, only the music!” Danica protested.
“I don’t care! When my beautiful, placid Danica turns into a monster overnight, I want to know why; and you can apologise to Jess for being so harsh!”
Mishy left the room carrying Danica’s CD player after Danica whispered a reprehensive apology.
*~*~*~*
Bob Maxwell gave the impression of Tinker Bell as Danica’s pink earphones stretched across his massive skull, stressing the straining metal to its limits reaching from his left ear to the right. Pushing the play button, his eyes crossed in cringing disbelief as Niccolo’s rampaging screech backed up by a piano falling down an elevator shaft assaulted his aging hearing receptors.
“That bad?!” Butch teased, watching Bob’s eyeballs circling in their sockets.
After Butch and then Mishy had taken a turn listening to the incredible noise, Mishy folded her arms across her chest. “I think this young man has seen the last of our daughters, Butch. He can reside in the top shelf of our wardrobe from now on.”
Moments later, Danica sauntered into the kitchen and offered her mother an apology, “I’m sorry, Mum.”
“Please don’t ask for the CD back, Danica. Even though I don’t understand his message, I don’t think this Niccolo is good for you,” Mishy defiantly stood her ground.
“It’s okay, Mum. It had a weird spooky association thing with those people who died just up the access track anyway. Can I have a hug please?”
Mishy broke into a delighted smile. Her sensible baby girl was back and mother and daughter shared a tender moment together.
*~*~*~*
Danica pulled her chair up to the computer desk in the schoolroom and went through the process of starting her computer, intent on checking for emails from Anne-Claire. Even before their trip to Nanjilgardie, Anne-Claire had been silent for a few days and it began to worry Danica. Maybe she’d become tired of their friendship and had found someone else to correspond with. Danica waited for the electronic dinosaur to go through its usual routine and once the email account opened, she could see immediately there was something from Anne-Claire. Feeling bolstered and excited by the sight of Anne-Claire’s email address, Danica opened the email and began to read, but quickly realised the mail was from Anne-Claire’s mum and the correspondence was directed to Danica’s mum. Driven on by anxious curiosity, Danica pushed the chair back from the computer desk and made a beeline for the kitchen. The girls had been drummed about reading other people’s mail, yet for some reason this email seemed urgent.
Deep in thought and absentmindedly daydreaming through the kitchen window, Mishy jumped in fright as Danica burst into the kitchen and made an unexpected announcement, taking her a few seconds to recover and comprehend her daughter’s need.
“Sorry for startling you, Mum,” Danica apologised. “But there’s an email from Anne-Claire’s mum and it’s addressed to you!”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 71
By the time Mishy and Danica entered the schoolroom and found a seat at the computer, the old dinosaur had fallen asleep and the monitor screen was blank. Mishy fervently shook the mouse across the plastic covered foam mouse pad, demanding the snoozing machine wake up. The computer screen blinked reluctantly to life and eventually pulled into sleepy focus, painting demented colours across the monitor in the process until finally, the jigsaw puzzle of information fell into order and Mishy could read the communication. Unconcerned with Danica reading over her shoulder, Mishy followed the email and tried to decipher the broken English into an understandable dialogue.
Chère Madame Slater
Please to forgive my Anglais, I quite don’t understand like Anne-Claire and French is my normal yet. I offer a bad news and quite don’t believe the thing good and bad now that has taken Anne-Claire yet. My ‘petite fille’ is taken an injury with us on a looking journey au Château de Chillon and is quite out of her normal head then. Please be not to worry, her Good Angel brings the Doctor Watkins to Anne-Claire back from England with the jet and she lives on and is only slightly broken in her head and will be alive more.
Anne-Claire moans to Danica silently with her broken head and her eyes shut, and is call to her from the hospital bed, making her Good Angel to be unpleasant for my ‘petite fille’. Even with the Good Angel crying she offers to the jet, two luxurious places to ride and please bring Danica and her mum to be looking to Anne-Claire’s side. I see quite yet that a journey of much space is considerable to impose but the Good Angel asks with crying eyes for Anne-Claire’s broken head, along with the heart beating in Anne-Claire’s mother, tenderly advises you, please to come.
The crying Good Angel makes me to advise, all the spending for a long journey where it begin to the fin is to be supported with his pleasantness, now to be left is only you to come.
In the house to where we comfort is much largeness, leaving the walls to blush in your approach and kindness will be there yet.
Please to beg a considerate for my ‘petite fille’.
Veuillez recevoir, Madame, nos salutations distinguées.
Jeannine Couture.
Danica and Mishy stared at the screen, dumbfounded. “Does that say what I think it says, Mum?”
“I think so, but don’t get your hopes up, Danica. Anne-Claire is injured and that’s regrettable, but we just can’t drop everything around the station and travel thousands of miles across the globe. I’ll need to discuss this with your father before any answer is given to the Coutures, especially an expensive trip like that. We can’t expect them to pay our way. That goes against the family ethic and we can’t afford anything like that while this stubborn drought hangs on,” Mishy kissed her daughter’s forehead and then walked determinedly back into the kitchen, still reeling from the shock of Jeannine’s sudden email.
Danica watched her mother leave the schoolroom and turned her attention back to the computer screen and read Anne-Claire’s mother’s communication once again while images of Anne-Claire and Switzerland danced across her imagination and a spark of excitement bubbled in her stomach.
Her mum hadn’t agreed to the offer, but she hadn’t discounted it either.
*~*~*~*
It was early afternoon and scorching hot when a tiny dust speck on the burnt opal-blue horizon slowly grew in size as Jim Strack’s Beechcraft Bonanza zeroed in on the Pearl Springs’ airstrip. Stracky had a sixth sense for time and ran to an exacting internal clock, always on schedule. Just like today, reassuring Bob Maxwell he would be back at his desk in the Birdsville Police Station in a little over an hour, ready to catch up on a myriad of paperwork and reports to the big city brass.
As the tiny passenger plane touched down on the dirt strip, clouds of red dust boiled around the propeller and blanketed the shimmering surrounds with stinging ochre grit. Trying not to drown the waiting station people in a curtain of hot red powder, Stracky cut the Bonanza’s engine and drifted to a stop. Sweating in the furnace-like heat, Bob hu
gged Mishy then Butch and climbed aboard the small aircraft, taking his seat next to the pilot before the aircraft engine burst into life. Within minutes, Stracky had turned the small craft around and made a lengthy run up and then with the engine at full power, the tiny bird lifted effortlessly into the stifling air, buzzing Mishy and Butch then the homestead roof.
Waving goodbye to their good policeman friend and walking quickly hand in hand to the air conditioned wagon to make the short journey back to the homestead, Mishy abruptly stopped and cuddled up to Butch. “We’ve got another dilemma, honey.”
With sweat beads forming on her delicate brow, Butch stared into the tender face of his beautiful wife. “Oh, goodie! Just for something new. What now?!”
Butch opened the door to the idling wagon and Mishy sidled into the cool interior and waited for him to join her from the other side. Once Butch had slammed the door and sealed out the heat, Mishy continued her cryptic conversation.
“I’ll let you read it for yourself and then you can tell me what you think.”
Butch considered Mishy’s expression, a little confused, but she wouldn’t offer anything more and left him wondering what new adventure the Slater family was about to embark on.
Mishy led Butch down the homestead passageway past the girls’ bedroom and into the school area. The children had finished their lessons for the day and were languishing in the cool of their room, but when Danica saw her mum and dad heading for the computer, she bounced up excitedly and followed a few steps behind.
As the computer went through its arthritic start-up procedure, Butch eyed his wife in puzzlement and wondered what he was about to encounter. “I get it; the Queen is coming for breakfast,” Butch joked.
“Almost!” Mishy teased.
“Arr, your mum is coming to stay... is that it?”
Mishy shook her head and smiled and then clicked open the email, allowing Butch plenty of time to read.
Butch’s face contorted, trying to understand the words and their meaning and after he had read the email, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Wow, that’s quite an offer and an experience we can’t afford to turn down.”
“What, Butch Slater?! Have you lost your mind?!”
Danica couldn’t believe her ears and began bouncing up and down on the spot and clapping her hands together.
“Well, Mishy, you said she needed to spend some time with people her own age and what better way than to see the world. I can’t offer Danica or you a trip like this and it would be reckless of us to turn it down. Besides, Anne-Claire needs Danica, and Jeannine sounds like a wonderful person. It wouldn’t hurt you to have some sensible female companionship either.”
“What does that mean, Butch? You are my companion and my soul mate and unless we can do this as a family, I don’t want to do it at all! Besides, how will you cope with all my chores on top of your own, not to mention caring for two small girls as well as running the cattle and the station property?”
Mishy had a point and Danica knew her chances of a world adventure had just been shot through and fatally wounded.
“I still think this experience is too great to give up, Mish. An opportunity like this doesn’t come along everyday. In fact, in three generations of station life, this is the first occasion.”
“Butch Slater, I am not leaving you or breaking up my family... period!”
Butch sighed heavily and recognised the rigid, unmoving stance of her elderly mother perfectly preserved in Mishy’s determined demeanour. She’d dug her boots in, but thankfully it was a situation that rarely presented and her father’s placid nature almost always shone through her delightful personality. However, she was adamant this time and no amount of coaxing would change her mind.
Danica knew her chances had just flatlined and now the trip would never happen. She could see the difficulties that were driving her mother’s arguments. The gruelling station life was something you were born into and demanded complete obedience, never allowing a distinguishing separation between work and home life, insisting everyone work as a team at all times... or perish.
Butch, however, had an idea and almost startled both Mishy and Danica. “Doesn’t your mum speak French, Mish?”
“Y... e-a-h, Mum speaks fluent French,” Mishy eyed Butch suspiciously, wondering where this was going. “When Dad was alive and before I was born, they spent twenty years as missionaries to French Guiana. When I came along in a shock change of life pregnancy, they abruptly moved back to Sydney. What’s running through that handsome mind, Butch?”
“Well, if you won’t go, I still think Danica should; and your mum is a match for anything that comes her way.”
Mishy agreed her mum could take care of herself, even at eighty, but then she fired off her last objection. “What about accepting someone else’s generosity?” Mishy was weakening and appeared to be coming around.
“I’m sure this cursed drought will break one day, then we can pay them back. Stipulate with Jeannine we will accept as long as we can pay them back in the distant future.”
Danica’s eyes were round and staring. Had she heard what she thought she’d heard? Was she going to Switzerland with her Nan to see Anne-Claire? She held her breath, afraid to breathe lest she wake up to find it’d all been a dream.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 72
Madeline Fairfax gazed into the garden from her patio chair and pondered the shadowy backyard of her Blue Mountains home. Her early morning routine swung into high gear with a cup of black steaming coffee situated next to her open Bible, contemplating the words and listening to the soft voice of the gentle Holy Spirit while watching the awe of another dawning day. Katoomba, seventy kilometres from Sydney and situated high in the Blue Mountains among the towering native eucalypt trees, had been her home ever since they’d returned unexpectedly from French Guiana with a wonderful surprise growing in her womb nearly forty years ago. Madeline’s mind began to drift back over the years and thoughts of Michelle’s childhood filled her memory. Everyone had adopted Mishy as her daughter’s proper name, much to Madeline’s disgust but no matter how hard she tried to correct this injustice, Mishy seemed to flow off every tongue and the nickname had stuck.
The first orange sunrays of morning projected onto the tall eucalypt timber bordering her back fence, illuminating the massive trunks with a pallid pink. Further up the trunk and among the green canopy, a growling scuffle broke out among the native animal population, drawing Madeline’s concentration away from her memories. Two amusing male koalas battling for territory captured her delighted attention until one of the males bravely threw in the towel, scampered down the tall trunk and admitted defeat, leaving the sole conqueror to reign victorious over his territory.
The unusual autumn heat was already building and soon the eucalypt tree leaves would be releasing more eucalyptus oil into the atmosphere, heated by the sun and giving the Blue Mountains their distinctive blue tinge and pungent eucalypt scent. Highly combustible during the hot months, the oil burnt at the slightest provocation, turning a sweltering day in the heavily populated and wooded ranges into a potential wildfire death trap. Shedding eucalypt debris often glided down from her tall back fence neighbours, regularly filling her roof and gutters with a lethal, flammable fuel. Flaming embers, drifting aimlessly on the wind in the event of a wildfire propagating, could ignite the highly flammable fuel source with devastating results if it wasn’t constantly and vigilantly removed. Madeline kept herself in good physical shape for her age but she drew the line at climbing on the roof, preferring instead to barter with a neighbour and swap a chore, leaving her feet firmly on the ground while the obliging neighbour cleaned out Madeline’s gutters.
Living in French Guiana had moulded Madeline’s character from a timid, pushover mouse into an independent woman of standing where price haggling for necessities was a way of life, carrying the lessons learned into the present day. Nursing her antique car along with a leaking water pump, Madeline had researc
hed the best price and collected the parts from an autoshop, haggling down to the last cent and leaving the outlet manager exasperated with the woman’s tenacity, but with a fair profit still in hand. Anticipating the elderly woman to leave the vehicle for the autoshop to repair, the manager would then recoup the expected obscene profit on the parts by adding on to the labour for the repair. But when the woman collected the parts and signalled her intention to make the repair herself, the manager had exploded in frustration and prophesied the engine’s demise through lack of knowledge, costing her more in the end for her arrogant stupidity.
But what he didn’t know, Madeline had taught herself the basics through necessity on the mission field and became known throughout Guiana as the little preaching grease monkey, repairing everything from trucks, tractors and cars. Concerned male neighbours, observing elderly Madeline’s attempts at home repairs, were soon assured of her capacity and at times had left her to repair household items of their own. It was a normal sight to see a vehicle with its bonnet up on Madeline’s driveway and with the wily old woman covered in grease as she repaired a neighbour’s broken car. The only price she charged was a cup of tea and a listening ear as she expounded her mesmerising mission field adventures and the deep love she held for Jesus Christ.
*~*~*~*
Removing the last stubborn bolt from her engine’s water pump, Madeline was just about to break the seal on the gasket with a gentle tap from a sizeable ball-peened hammer when her telephone began to bellow from within the house. With a gentle sigh, Madeline hovered the hammer over the broken part, mentally threatening the disabled pump with an imaginary hammerblow. Teetering between the phone and the repair, the telephone eventually won her over and she quickly dropped the tool to the ground and wiped her greasy hands on her oversized overalls before making a determined gait for the troublesome phone. Bursting inside her home and grasping tentatively with filthy hands until she’d arrested the demanding phone, she tried not to sully anything and give herself an added cleanup job.