List-Making Monsters
As the weeks passed, Ava accepted more rules and requirements, but she was finding her place in the Tate hierarchy and falling into the rhythm of a quiet country life. One morning, woken by an impossible-to-ignore tangerine glow spilling into the cottage through the front window, she’d slid out of bed, put on slippers and a dressing-gown, then stepped out onto the tiny porch in time to see the sun emerge from behind the distant formation she’d heard John refer to as Mount Hedlow. Every morning since she’d been up early, keen to take a walk by the riverbank with its thickly scented scrub. Misty mornings by the water were the most spectacular, when the first vertical rays of sunlight pierced the haze before the heat of a fast-approaching summer took hold.
Some mornings still made her snuggle back under the covers, but rather than sleep, she’d conjure food ideas, then get up to jot them in a notebook. While Ivy-May’s guests had been easy to please, with the abundance of fresh produce making Ava’s job more enjoyable than any other, her first priority had been scrubbing the main kitchen clean of Quentin.
Each week she tackled another grimy appliance and cupboard. She cleaned cutlery drawers, sticky oven doors, and arranged the kitchen’s contents in a way that made sense. She also attacked the weeds in the vegetable garden and discovered planting seeds and composting scraps came with the same satisfaction as moulding dough. The separate herb garden close to the kitchen was invaluable and everything was thriving, but her most recent achievement came from the most unexpected source. So impressed was she with Ava’s pastries and cakes that Marjorie had announced she was adding morning coffee and afternoon tea to the optional extras list in the B-and-B rooms, which would require a constant supply of cakes and pastries.
*
John had been away for a few days, attending the cattle sales at Roma with his father, and with Marjorie busy, Katie stepped up to help clean and prepare the guest rooms, constantly reminding Ava of how to do everything Marjorie’s way. She didn’t complain, or point out that she knew her employer’s methods and her exacting standards. Katie had a point to make, which had nothing to do with cleaning and everything to do with John. If she could have branded him when they were doing the new cattle in the yards last week, Ava was convinced she would have done so.
Having been dismissed from room-cleaning duties, Ava had returned to the cottage and was spending her break on the porch, her menu-planning notepad on her lap, when she saw a distant dust trail heading in the direction of the gates. She hoped it was John and his dad returning. There had been little to make her smile over the last few days, let alone laugh.
The truck roared and rattled along the bottom road, heading for the small paddock with the sturdy wooden fence that John called the Arrivals Lounge. A straw hat flapped out of the passenger window as the vehicle turned towards the yards and Ava waved back. Unexpectedly she felt the tingle of anticipation in her belly and an urge to go up to the main house, sit at the kitchen table and surround herself with family chatter. After checking her face in the mirror and twisting her hair into its usual bun, she walked up the gentle slope to the house: once the men had offloaded the cattle Mr Tate would be keen to wash and have tea. If she hurried, Ava could have a cake baked in time.
*
‘Lovely, Ava, just lovely,’ Colin said, about to leave the table after two slices of lemon drizzle cake. ‘I’ll take a piece to the office with me for Marjorie when she returns, unless I eat it myself first. And I’ll tell you a secret,’ he said. ‘All the way back from the sale yards I was hoping you’d have a treat waiting for me.’
‘Me too,’ John added.
‘A little too sickly for me.’ Katie slid her plate, with only a polite mouthful remaining, into the middle of the table. ‘John, we need to talk.’
‘We do?’
‘I need to discuss a few things with you.’
‘Yeah, like?’
‘Your mum and I have been writing a list.’
‘Uh-oh.’ John glanced at Ava. ‘Beware list-making monsters.’
Katie’s punch to his shoulder knocked the spoon he was holding from his hand to the floor. ‘Be serious.’
He mouthed, ‘Thanks,’ when Ava retrieved it, passing the utensil across the table. ‘I’m serious, Katie.’ He wiped the spoon with the tail of his shirt. ‘Deadly serious – about having another bit of cake.’
She groaned. ‘Come on, John.’
‘But I’m eating.’
Katie stood up. ‘And I want to go for a ride.’
John stayed seated. ‘Can I bring the cake?’
Another grunt of frustration. ‘Why are you being such a pain? Let’s go.’
John pretended to be dragged from the room, leaving Ava laughing as she cleared the dishes and set about preparing dinner: Katie’s parents were expected tonight. Such get-togethers had been regular events over the years, both families taking turns to host a gathering, but with Katie’s parents older, and Mrs O’Brien rarely feeling up to cooking, the onus these days fell on Marjorie. On the positive side, with no B-and-B guests to worry about, Ava would have only one dinner sitting, which left her free to enjoy eating with the Tates at the big kitchen table.
*
It turned out that Katie’s parents were not big talkers so while the Tates and the O’Briens ate, Ava asked about Ivy-May’s history. Colin told her that John was the fifth generation and that the property had been named after his great-great-grandmother, Ivy May. Ava learned the place had once been an even bigger land holding, originally a dairy and piggery. In wartime, Colin’s forebears had grown maize, sweet potatoes and pumpkins, which helped feed American soldiers stationed nearby.
As interesting as the family history was, Ava was glad when John butted in to explain that the future was all about land management. ‘Conservative stocking rates and rotational grazing will preserve the land for generations to come and help produce high-quality crops.’ He looked pleased with himself.
‘We can’t focus on ourselves alone.’ Katie’s curt delivery had knocked a little of the enthusiasm from John’s face. She seemed to enjoy a good counter-argument, offering her own take on the role and responsibilities of community and government in the survival of small farming communities like Candlebark Creek. To Ava’s amazement, everyone listened.
‘A farming community is just that, a community. In order to survive we must work together. Properly planned, Ivy-May can contribute to maintaining infrastructure and population growth. Isn’t that so, Mrs Tate?’
‘Katie’s right. Finding ways to draw people to a town, or prevent locals from leaving, is key to our survival.’ Marjorie rose from the table, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and dropped it onto the empty plate. Suddenly she looked weary, her commanding voice quieter than normal. ‘When a population declines, towns lose important things like medical services, and that can make the difference between life and death.’ Colin reached out as if to comfort his wife, but Marjorie moved away and his hand fell short.
‘Losing the school would also be devastating for Candlebark Creek,’ Katie added. Marjorie gave her a nod of approval, then left the table.
With Marjorie’s departure, Ava had expected Colin to liven up, but he remained, as always, a silent observer unless spoken to directly. Not wanting to interrupt John and Katie’s debate, she leaned towards him and said softly, ‘For someone with no farming knowledge, but who’s used to cutting up and cooking beef, I’m fascinated to learn what happens before the cattle end up at the butcher’s. May I, at some stage?’
Colin perked up a little and drained his glass of red wine – the fourth. ‘Any time, Ava. Come to the yards tomorrow. We’ll be branding more new arrivals.’ He put a hand on her thigh under the table. ‘The meal tonight was excellent.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood and Colin’s hand fell away. ‘I’ll see how I go with my other chores tomorrow.’