“There’s a heat wave coming.”
Several weeks later, I was standing in the kitchen, making everyone coffees, when Troy gave the weather report in ominous tones.
“How long?” Charlie asked, like a woman being given a death sentence.
I walked closer, carrying four mugs at a time, then Troy looked up when I set down an extra strong one for him. No smile, that told me how serious this was, but he dragged me down onto his lap, then consulted with the phone in his free hand.
“45 degrees on Tuesday—” he started to say.
“How long?”
Charlie didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she pulled out her own phone, everyone now staring at their screens.
“Seven days…” All the good humour was stripped from Billy’s voice. “Seven freaking days?”
“Bushfire for sure.”
As Bronson sat back, arms firmly crossed, I felt a thrill of fear tear up my spine. Growing up where I did, nothing caught people’s attention like a wildfire warning. Bigger, hotter fires tore through our valley every year now, it felt. We’d seen the burned-out husks of our neighbours’, our friends’, places and my brain couldn’t, wouldn’t reconcile those scenes of destruction with the farm here.
“Bushfire… But the farm,” I said. “The animals. The rescue.”
“The modelling suggested it was going to go this way, but today was the day the Bureau of Meteorology confirmed the numbers,” Troy said. “Which means we’ve got three days to get as much prep done as possible. There will be absolutely no slacking off.”
“Fuck, Troy,” Billy said. “You don’t have to tell us twice.”
“Billy, you and Scotty can get up on the roofs of the houses and other buildings and make sure there’s not a damn leaf in the guttering,” Troy said.
“Got it, boss,” Scotty said with a sharp nod.
“Bronson—”
“I’m checking the stock containment fields,” he said with a grim frown. “Making sure the troughs are filling properly and moving feed down closer.”
“We’re gonna have to bring the stock into the containment fields tomorrow,” Troy said, then sighed. “Won’t get caught out once the heat starts to bite. Hasn’t been enough rain lately and all it takes is for some idiot to throw his cigarette out his window or a piece of broken glass to heat up and a fire will start. We’ll be herding every animal in closer for the next few days.”
“I’ll be putting water out in the forests,” Charlie said, glaring at each one of her brothers as if expecting a fight. “And checking for heat-affected animals. Need to coordinate with the vet’s and the local wild care group, see what the plan is.”
“So I’ll help you with that, Charlie?” I asked, which was the point where everyone went quiet.
“Might be a good time to head for the city.” I turned around, blinking at Troy’s words. He didn’t seem happy about what he was saying, but he forged on. “We could put you up in a hotel there. Just for a week.”
My throat felt like it was closing up. I’d spent week after week finding my place on this farm and the minute things got hard, Troy wanted to relegate me to the city?
“If I wanted to hang out in a city, I’d have stayed in LA,” I told him. “If it’s going to get that bad?—”
“It’ll be bad.” Billy scrubbed at his face. “It’s only the depth that varies. The city’s the safest place for ya, Macca.”
“But not for you.” I scanned the table. “Not for any of you or the animals.” My lungs felt like they seized in my chest, somehow already able to smell smoke. “I can help.”
Everyone started to speak at once, but Troy turned me around to face him.
“What would help is knowing you’re safe and away from all this shit. The days are going to be insanely long and hot and dry. The winds will start.”
“Fucking northerlies…” Billy muttered.
“There’ll be no relief at night,” Troy continued in his best ‘be reasonable’ tone. “It’ll stay up in the 30s. This old house…” His eyes flicked up to take in the ceiling. “It’s good at keeping warmth in, not releasing it, and?—”
“I’m staying.” My heart was beating far too fast, as if to question what I was thinking. “I’m staying, Troy.”
