Page 31 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘Why?’ Sean reached over the gate to tousle Karmaa’s dark head. The same colour as his jet fur, the lamb’s eyes were invisible.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to have livestock in town.’

Sean shrugged. ‘Seems all the rentals in Settlers belong to Lynn from the IGA. Reckon she’d be the last person to turf you out.’

‘Maybe. But I can imagine someone like Dave reporting me to council.’

‘You might be onto something there. Oh, well, the lambs can always come back out to the farm.’

Amelia fondled Kismet, wincing as the graze across her knuckles throbbed. The lambs were getting bigger by the day, but she would crate them, load them into the Jabby and fly out of here before she’d let anyone take them. ‘Okay, monsters, let me go make up your milk.’

She opened the front door and walked swiftly down the hall, calling over her shoulder, ‘Come on in, Sean. I’ll just let them in the back before they kick up too much of a ruckus.’

Sean chuckled. ‘I think we’re already past that point.’

The lambs hurled themselves against the door, desperate for a cuddle. As they rushed her, Amelia caught Karmaa then swiftly swaddled him in a nappy. Kismet was more awkward to handle, butting into her sore hand and trying to suckle.

‘Makes me wonder how Roni Krueger coped with her twins when they were younger. I’m not going to pretendI was the main carer—or any kind of carer, really.’ Sean’s tone turned bleak, and she could sense he forced a smile as he finished the thought. ‘But I always thought one baby was enough of a handful.’

Nostalgia swept Amelia, but she pushed it aside with a tight smile and headed for the kitchen, the lambs on her heels. ‘Would you mind?’ She passed Sean one of the bottles of milk.

‘Bit cold, isn’t it?’ he asked, holding the teat as he shook the bottle.

‘Roni said cold is less likely to cause scours and bloat.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sheep diarrhoea is all kinds of gross, so I’m keen to avoid going back there.’

‘Guess no one likes a belly ache.’

Amelia took a seat and Karmaa jostled between her knees, rearing onto his hind legs and placing his front hooves in her lap. ‘Bloat’s more serious than that: it can kill within hours.’ The thought terrified her and she hated leaving the animals between feeds, preferring to spend the time massaging their tight little velour-soft bellies. She knew what could happen if she didn’t watch her babies every minute.

But she also realised that she would find it too easy to make this her life, to become neurotic about protecting her charges at the expense of any semblance of normal life. So she forced herself to put them out in the garden after a feed, watching as they curled together in the large dog bed in a sunny spot beneath the naked branches of the old peach tree. And then she’d watch a little longer, making certain they didn’t show any sign of discomfort. Eventually, she’d rush back to the office, counting the hours until she could return to her babies. Always terrified of what she would find.

Or, as history had it, what she would not find.

‘Well, live and learn,’ Sean said, as he leaned down to feed the lamb. ‘Never thought I’d find myself in a country kitchen bottle-feeding lambs with a rather more attractive version of Doc Dolittle, but life takes some funny turns.’

Amelia twisted her hand so Kismet’s sharp baby teeth didn’t graze her sore knuckles. ‘What’s this?’ she muttered, running a thumb over a callus on the lamb’s bottom lip. ‘You’ve been mouthing something funny.’ She looked up to include Sean. ‘Along with my electric blanket cord, phone charger and the handle on my suitcase, that is. I swear these two are more goat than sheep.’

‘My very limited sheep knowledge is that Dorpers are browsers, rather than grazers. So, yeah, more goat-like,’ Sean agreed. ‘Devils with fences, too.’

Muzzles covered in white froth and tails whisking excitedly, the lambs finished the bottles in seconds. Amelia gave each milky face a quick rub, barely catching Kismet before she took off on a game of chase through the house. Karmaa followed, his skinny shanks comically sliding in the opposite direction to his front end. Every so often, he redirected his course by leaping high into the air, tiny hooves scrambling as he botched the landing.

Amelia sterilised the bottles and took the animals out into the backyard as Sean frowned at his phone, laboriously typing out a text.

He glanced up. ‘Do you have time for lunch?’

‘Absolutely.’

The sun had appeared from behind pewter clouds and bright eucalypt flowers littered the dirt footpath. Amelia realised her heart felt a little lighter than it had for … years. But she wasn’t sure she liked that.

‘Any preference?’ Sean asked as they turned into the main street.

‘You’re the local, I’ll leave it to you.’

‘I’d need a couple more decades before I’m local. Don’t reckon that’s happening in my lifetime.’

She frowned. Sean was only early sixties, surely? ‘I’ve only tried the pub. The fancier one. You?’

Sean glanced at his phone as it chimed and his face tightened. ‘Maybe not the pub today. Ploughs and Pies?’

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