Chapter Seven
‘I have to forget awkward conversations and unhappy memories and do the job I’ve agreed to do,’ I say, as Keith Urban, totally disinterested, looks out of the window.
Milly and Benedict’s hobby farm, a patchwork of oddly shaped paddocks and a jumble of birds and animals, lightens my mood.
A dark-haired man wearing a blue and white checked shirt, presumably Benedict, rests a bucket on his hip as he opens the gate to a chook pen.
Milly, purple hair tied up in a bun, appears at the open crimson door of a small timber house and rushes down the path.
‘Amelie!’ In her late thirties, Milly has obviously been crying, but smiles. ‘You’re too young to have so many letters after your name.’
‘It’s a bit of an alphabet.’ Gordon warned me Keith Urban isn’t keen on alpacas, so I open the back door of my ute and direct him to the seat before turning back to Milly. ‘Did Jimmy force you to take one of my cards?’
‘If he hadn’t, I would have snatched it.’
‘Anna told me you work with Julia.’
‘I help out with reception.’ When we reach the end of the path, she pauses. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t welcome you at the practice. Did Anna explain? I got caught up here.’
‘Do you have much experience in farming?’
‘None! But we’ve been through a lot together, Benedict and me.’ Her eyes well up, but she smiles through it. ‘The farm has brought us even closer.’
Two tall white ganders, necks extended and honking, dart across our path. ‘Why two male geese?’
‘It would make sense to have females and eggs, wouldn’t it?’ Milly rolls her eyes. ‘They were sold to us as girls and by the time we worked out they were boys, we couldn’t face giving them away.’
‘They’re good-looking birds and they’ll fertilise your garden.’
Milly laughs. ‘You look on the bright side, don’t you? I like that.’
‘With animals, definitely.’
She looks me up and down. ‘Shelley from the pub said you were pretty, but this is next level.’
‘I haven’t been to the pub.’
‘You were out the front of Dr Brown’s place, talking to Cam. You’re living in his cabin, aren’t you? Julia said it’s like a doll’s house, so goodness knows how Cam ever fitted into it.’ She squares her shoulders. ‘He’s quite a lad, our Cam McLeod.’
My nod is stiff. ‘Anna and her children are lovely.’
She holds her hands to her heart. ‘She’s a great mum and now she not only has Cam, but Adam, to help parent her kids.’
‘It was good of her to find me and Keith Urban somewhere to live.’
‘Milly!’ Benedict calls out. ‘Why don’t you stay back at the house?’
Milly’s eyes well up again. ‘I should come with you, shouldn’t I?’
‘You haven’t yet told me why I’m here.’
She threads her arm through mine and we walk together. ‘It’s heartbreaking.’
A speckled black and white cow, the Angus breed crossed with something else, grazing in a paddock behind the yards has a newborn calf that shares her colouring. The second cow is black and younger than the first.
‘They look good. What’s the problem?’
Milly stands back as Benedict, after sending a sad smile in her direction, leads me to a blue tarpaulin by the gate and pulls back a corner.
After gloving up, I kneel by the newborn calf ’s little body and pull the tarp clear.
The calf, his skin torn and his stomach and other intestines ripped, has been attacked by an animal, maybe a dog or a fox.
He’s only been dead for a few hours, no longer.
‘Poor little guy.’ I touch his cheek. ‘What happened to you?’
‘What a terrible time for this to happen,’ Milly calls out from the other side of the yard. ‘Just before Christmas.’
‘We knew the cows were likely to calve very soon,’ Benedict says. ‘And that’s why we were out here at six this morning. Old Bess and her little one were good as gold, but Belle here, her calf was just as you see him, lying on the grass with his tummy hanging out.’
‘Belle never looked pregnant in the way Bess did,’ Milly says, ‘but we were told to expect that as it was her first calf and Bess’s eighth.’
‘We knew there were risks having a heifer in calf, but we’ve treated her like a princess.’ Benedict grimaces. ‘Old Bess came with the farm, but we splashed out on Belle. We hoped she’d be the foundation cow of our own Angus herd. She has a good pedigree and so did the bull we put the girls to.’
‘Can we bring Belle into the crush so I can examine her?’
‘Isn’t it all over?’ Benedict says. ‘I don’t want to add to her trauma.’
‘She doesn’t like the crush,’ Milly says. ‘We don’t want to make things even worse.’
‘I wouldn’t put her through this if I didn’t think it’d be worthwhile.’
‘Do you think the calf was stillborn?’
‘It’s possible, but he’s a good size. No obvious deformities.’
‘Poor Belle, she’s got milk but no calf.’ Benedict lowers his voice. ‘Milly lost a baby. It was early days, only six weeks, but after years of trying, it hit her hard.’
‘I’m so sorry that happened.’
‘Our little farm helps with the grief.’ His smile is gentle. ‘Animals and fresh air are good for the soul.’
After separating Belle from Bess and the calf, we herd her into the pen and beyond that, the crush.
The facilities here aren’t what you’d find in a large-scale operation, but once Belle is trapped in the narrow corridor of railings and Benedict slams a gate behind her, it’s possible to climb to the second rung and lean over her.
Benedict, on the other side of the railing, pulls Belle’s tail out of the way.
‘You said it was the same bull for Bess and Belle,’ I say. ‘How long was he here?’
‘It was one of Cam McLeod’s bulls.’ Milly is at Belle’s head now, shushing her bellows. ‘Is she in pain?’
‘She’s frightened because I’m examining her and she wants to be with Bess.’ I’m in up to my elbow now. ‘The bull, Milly, how long?’
‘We called him Mr Bullocks, didn’t we, Benedict? I wonder if that stuck?’
‘The look on Cameron’s face!’ Benedict smiles. ‘He was here for around eight weeks, enough time to give the girls two seasons. Cam assured us it was less stressful that way. From what we could see, Mr Bullocks was a gentleman and both girls took a shine to him.’
I’m not surprised at what I find, but it’s a relief all the same. ‘Belle hasn’t had her calf yet.’
‘What?’ Benedict blinks. ‘That can’t be right.’
I jump from the railing. ‘Let’s put her back in the paddock with Bess and then I’ll explain.’
As we walk to the ute, I take Milly and Benedict through the most likely scenarios.
‘Bess had twins. Her labour might have been difficult and only one calf survived. Even if there were two live births, she might have judged that one calf, possibly the first to stand and drink, was more likely to survive and abandoned the second. Or maybe the twin didn’t get up in time and Bess wasn’t close enough to protect him. ’
‘Bess had one speckled calf and one black calf …’ Milly sniffs. ‘Poor little black calf, left all alone.’
‘We can’t blame Bess,’ Benedict says.
‘If we’d found the calf before it was attacked,’ Milly asks, ‘could we have saved it?’
‘Bess might have accepted it eventually, or it might have been possible to hand rear it.’
When I open the ute’s back door, Keith Urban runs around in circles before following us into the house. Milly opens a door off the hallway. ‘Would you like to wash up here?’
In the bathroom, three of the walls are blue and one is silver.
‘The sky and moon,’ Milly explains. ‘I’ll brew the tea. Come to the verandah when you’re done.’
Milly and Benedict’s dining room is a rainbow, chairs of different colours and vividly striped walls. In the sitting room, blue and yellow furnishings are complemented by a beach mural.
Benedict stands and pulls out a chair. ‘Elderberry tea for our saviour.’
As I sit down, a cramp bites low in my abdomen. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘We’ll mourn the twin calf, but you’ve given us hope.’
‘I doubt Belle will have her calf before the end of the year, but as this is her first, it might be good to keep the cows in the small paddock at night. It’ll be easier to monitor her there.’
‘We’re so lucky to have someone with not only practical but theoretical experience.’ Benedict steeples his fingers. ‘I was an academic once. Ancient Rome.’
‘I look at pain and stress management in livestock.’ Another cramp, stronger than the first. I put the cup down before I drop it. ‘We had the temerity to lecture you about upsetting Belle,’
Benedict says. ‘I do apologise.’
‘We’ll have you to thank for our Christmas calf.’ Milly nods firmly. ‘I’ll pass that on to Rachael Sudgeon next time I see her.’
Benedict rolls his eyes. ‘Milly …’
The name clicks into place. ‘Mrs Sudgeon owns the motel, doesn’t she? What has she said?’
‘Nothing anyone will take any notice of,’ Milly says. ‘Karma will catch up with that woman.’
I gulp the last of my elderberry tea. ‘I’d better get going.’
‘You were a child when your parents left this town. How can she possibly hold anything against you?’
Keith Urban gallops ahead as Milly and Benedict introduce me to their menagerie.
In addition to the ganders, there are ten merino sheep and an alpaca, chickens and a donkey called Eeyore.
‘The vet in Ballymore trusted us to care for him while she’s visiting her inlaws in Scotland,’ Milly says proudly.
Like their home, Milly and Benedict’s garden is eclectic, with statues and plaques representing many different faiths. ‘I was brought up Catholic,’ Milly says, ‘and Benedict was an atheist. We’ve given both those things up for a little bit of everything, including mother nature.’
‘We enjoy giving gifts at Christmas.’ Benedict smiles as I open the door of the ute and Keith Urban hops in. ‘What do you get up to at Christmas time?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘How do your family mark the occasion?’
Earlier this morning, Cameron asked about Christmas. Now this. ‘They’ve never celebrated it.’
‘At all?’ Milly asks.
‘My parents thought Christmas was a good time to drop leaflets in letterboxes. They were anti-consumerism, anti-tinsel, anti pretty much everything when it came to Christmas.’
When Milly’s mouth opens, I attempt a smile. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I blurted that out.’
‘How long did this go on for?’
‘It was all I knew.’
‘You’ve never got over it, have you?’
I pretend I haven’t heard the question and climb behind the wheel. ‘Thanks for the callout. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’
Milly and Benedict wave as I drive away. Like my parents, they’re unconventional. Unlike my parents, they’re open-minded. When another cramp hits, my breath catches and I clench my teeth.
This time tomorrow, I’m supposed to be at Julia’s house for morning tea. I shouldn’t have accepted her invitation.