Page 7 of Outback Reunion

‘Ah, well, despite what your father says, it’s okay to have pets for the sole purpose of providing love and affection, you know.’

Yeah, because it wasn’t like he was getting either of those things anywhere else these days. They were both silent a moment as if she too was thinking the same thing.

‘How are you and Dad?’ he asked before she could pry into his private life. He’d hoped these few weeks down south checking out retirement properties would be a reprieve from her constant fussing and worrying. ‘Enjoying the slightly cooler weather?’

‘It’s lovely but I really wish you’d come with us. I don’t like to think of you back there all alone.’

There it was. His chest tightened. It was too early in the morning and he was too hungover to deal with this.

‘Are you getting out at all? Seeing friends?’ she pressed.

Friends. Mark swallowed a snort. While in theory he had lots of friends in Bunyip Bay—all of whom had tried hard to make him feel at home again—he couldn’t help feeling like an outsider. He’d moved back late October just as Dad was about to start harvest and had thrown himself into helping, so hadn’t had too much time to feel sorry for himself, but now with harvest and Christmas over and his parents gone, the reality of his situation was starting to hit home. Some days even getting out of bed felt like an effort.

‘Sorry, Mum, can’t chat, Rookie’s digging up one of your roses.’

‘What? I thought you said you were in a paddock?’

‘I’ll call you later,’ he said and quickly disconnected as he charged towards the dog who was indeed wreaking havoc in Mum’s garden, Roo looking on in bemusement.Shit.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he scooped up the scruffy little dog. ‘Why the hell didn’t I leave you on the side of the bloody road?’

In reply, Rookie, who was the size of a shih tzu, with the look of a border terrier, the energy of a Jack Russell and the stubbornness of a beagle, cocked her head and stared at him with wide eyes, and all Mark’s anger crumbled. It was his fault for sleeping in—the poor pup was probably starving as well as bored.

‘Come on, scruff,’ he said, walking them both back inside. He’d deal with the roses later. He needed to eat first—his dinner of two-minute noodles was almost fifteen hours ago now.

After filling Rookie’s bowl with some dried dog biscuits, he opened the fridge.Bugger.Since his parents left, he’d mostly been surviving on Christmas leftovers, but five days into the new year, the fridge and cupboards were all but bare. Even the beer was gone.

He could no longer put off a trip to town.

If only they had a veggie patch and chickens instead of bloody roses, then perhaps he’d never have to venture there again. Maybe that’s what he’d do this summer—build a veggie garden and a chicken pen. His mum would like that. She’d always been too busy with rescue animals to keep chooks, but he was home to help now and she’d appreciate the free eggs for all her baking.

Sighing, he slammed the fridge shut and grabbed his keys off the bench.

Decision made—he’d go into town, stock up on groceries and stop off at the Ag Store to grab building materials for the coop. Dad probably had things lying around that he could use but he had the money to buy good stuff, so why not make something spectacular? At least it would keep him busy for a bit.

It wasn’t that he hated Bunyip Bay, or he hadn’t when he’d been growing up. He’d always been excited about one day heading back here and putting his own stamp on the family farm, but his homecoming wasn’t what it should have been. He was supposed to return the hometown hero, introducing his wife, Tahlia, to his old mates, encouraging her to make friends and get involved in the community. She owned an online clothing business, and he’d promised to build her a proper office and storage facility on the property so she could work at home, while he ran the farm with his dad.

That was the plan, until both his body and his wife had betrayed him. Now, everyone was treating him like some sort of celebrity, but one they felt sorry for.

He picked Rookie up—‘How about a drive?’—and headed outside, the screen door clanking shut behind them.

Although farm dogs usually travelled on the tray of the ute, Rookie couldn’t be trusted and nor was she big enough to jump up into the front, so Mark plopped her down beside him as he climbed into the driver’s side.

It was a fifteen-minute drive west to town and he listened to the latest episode of The Regenerative Agriculture podcast. Once upon a time the only podcasts he followed were about football. Maybe one day he’d be able to listen to stuff like that again, but right now everything was still too raw. Before they’d separated, Tahlia suggested he try to get a gig in commentating or coaching but he’d made it clear that if he couldn’t play, he didn’t want to be around the game at all.

Besides, that had never been on the cards.

What would his parents do if he didn’t follow through on their succession plan?

They’d have to sell the farm or slog it out here until they were both so old and weary they could no longer work. No way he could do that to them. Not after they’d supported him—emotionally and financially—to follow his dream.

He just hoped his passion for the land would come back sometime soon, which was why he’d ordered a whole load of books on regenerative farming and was listening to everything he could find.

On the outskirts of town, Mark’s thoughts were distracted by a massive blow-up clown swaying in the wind alongside the ‘Welcome to Bunyip Bay’ sign. He barely had time to wonderWTFbefore he drove by the sports hub where he’d spent many an afterschool and weekend at footy games and training. The normally empty oval was packed with semi-trailers and caravans set up in a circle at one end. At the other there were about two dozen people buzzing about a forklift. Sometimes in the summer tourist season, the shire allowed overflow from the caravan park to set up on the oval—better to have the holidaymakers in town to frequent the café, pub and shops while many of the locals were vacationing elsewhere—but this didn’t look like that. He slowed briefly, trying to get a better look at what was going on before continuing into the main street, which had barely changed in his almost ten-year absence.

Bunyip Bay looked pretty much the same as any small rural town—old buildings, wide roads with gum trees down the middle—but its proximity to the ocean meant the Ag Store also sold fishing tackle, and the sports store, surfboards. He forced a wave at a couple of workers from the shire who were taking down Christmas decorations that hung upon the light poles from one side of the road to the other, tinsel shapes that had also been used as long as he could remember. As he passed the Community Resource Centre, he spotted another massive blow-up clown out the front and frowned.

Were those people and trailers on the oval a circus?

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