‘It’s good to see you, Ben.’ His mother had followed him.
Without turning to look at her, he began to give an assessment of the work that needed to be done to protect not just the house but also the enclosures in case of fire. ‘And we should also do something along your fence line to protect the stables on the other side,’ he concluded. By this time, his companions had joined him and there was no chance for his mother to speak to him alone. Good. That was exactly what he’d wanted. They set to work and when he next looked around, Carol was nowhere to be seen.
About an hour later, the sound of an approaching vehicle heralded the arrival of Justin and two more of the men from the nearby stud. They joined the workers.
After a time, there was a shout from the house: ‘I’ve got the kettle on. Or there’s a cold drink for anyone who wants it.’
As all the other workers headed for the house, Ben hung back until Justin stepped to his side.
‘You can be an utter bastard sometimes,’ Ben told his brother.
‘As can you.’ Justin kept walking.
Ben heard him greet their mother and accept a hot drink. He hesitated, but after all the hard work, he could use a cold drink. Not only that, he could see the other blokes casting confused looks his way. He walked back to the house. The others had gathered on the front veranda, taking advantage of the shade it offered. He walked up the stairs to join them.
‘All I want is water,’ he said.
He avoided meeting Carol’s eyes as she handed him the glass and immediately stepped away to stand near the open door to the house. His companions were chatting freely and laughing. Carol and Justin were standing a little away from the group, talking quietly. Ben moved a bit closer, trying to catch their words.
‘He’s been angry for a very long time …’
‘… forgive me?’
‘I can. I have, but there is a lot more for Ben to forgive.’
His brother was right about that, and Ben was in no mood for forgiveness today.
He placed his empty glass on the table. As he did, his gaze passed over the open door into the house. He froze. The light pouring through the open doorway fell on a small hall table. And on the table was a framed photo of two boys aged about twelve. Two identical boys in school uniforms standing in front of a different house, in a town a couple of hundred kilometres from here. A photo that had been a part of Carol’s home for almost twenty years.
He remembered that day as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
They hadn’t been at school early enough for the class photo, which was taken at the start of the day, while the kids were all still neat and tidy. They hadn’t made it because Carol had stopped to investigate a dead roo on the side of the road, in case there was a joey in its pouch. There wasn’t, but dealing with a dead animal like that was gross. At least, Ben thought it was.
‘But how about I take a photo of both of you?’ Carol had said, trying to make it up to them. ‘I bet that’ll be nicer than the school photo.’
And cheaper too, Ben now realised. That’s why she’d done it. At the time, all he knew was that he was missing out on a photo with all his schoolmates. She’d kept her promise and taken that photo. The frame back then was a cheap plastic one, but it had taken pride of place on the bookshelf. The photo was in a silver frame now, but the pride of place hadn’t changed one bit.
Ben felt some of the cold, hard anger inside him crack. Just a little. He turned away to resume the task of protecting this home, and its resident, against bushfires.
CHAPTER
21
The tiny creature wrapped in the blanket blinked up at Carol with bleary eyes.
‘Come on, little girl. Drink this and it will help you grow strong.’
The koala joey turned her head away from the bottle and the life-saving milk it contained.
‘Let’s try again.’
Carol had been trying to get the baby to accept the bottle for almost half an hour. It had been delivered to her after its mother was hit by a car and killed, her offspring still in the pouch. The joey blinked at her and turned away again. Crooning softly, Carol presented the bottle again and this time, a tiny drop of the milk landed on the joey’s lips. The baby opened her mouth and nuzzled the small teat. Then it began to drink.
‘What a good girl you are.’ When it came to helping injured wild creatures, Carol had all the patience in the world, and her efforts were usually rewarded. If only the same could be said for her sons. She looked around the room at the collection of framed photographs that sat on the table and the bookshelves. The one in a black wooden frame was her favourite. Her boys had been just six months old when that was taken. They had been so beautiful. Perfect in every way and they had both looked to her for everything. She’d known that raising twins as a single mother was going to be difficult. But back then, difficult didn’t matter, because the three of them were all the family they needed. As the years passed and the boys grew, though, she’d started working two jobs to earn enough money for all the things they needed. There wasn’t a lot left over for things they might want.
What she’d wanted—the only thing she’d really wanted—was her boys. And she’d had them, for a while. She’d been warned that identical twins develop a connection unlike other siblings. The twins would find their own language and their own world. No one had told her that she wouldn’t be able to follow them there. Increasingly, she had been left outside the invisible wall around their world. Even more so as the need to work longer hours to give them opportunities for a better future grew. Until one day, she looked at her sons and realised that she was at best an adjunct to their lives, not a part of it. They didn’t need her any more, apart from the roof she provided over their heads and the food on the table.
That’s when she’d turned to animal rescue, out of her desperate need to love and be loved. To feel needed.
