Page 50 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘Judging by this decadent, though very early, morning tea, I deduce the CWA stall is open,’ Amelia said, putting the giant coffee-iced cream puffs on a plate, then slicing the date loaf.

‘Correct. I was working on the first-in, best-dressed principle. Though that mechanic lad who Ethan dropped the car off with the other week—Hamish?—seemed set to buy out the stall for his breakfast. I nearly got into a bit of a scrummage with him to rescue those cream puffs.’

Charlee sniggered, as he’d hoped she would. ‘Great visual, Daideó: you wrestling some hulking farmer over a plate of cream puffs.’

He puffed out his chest. ‘Who walked away with the prize?’

‘Well fought, then,’ Amelia said. ‘Having some idea what day it is makes me feel a little more normal, at last.’

‘You’ve had a rough trot of it,’ he agreed.

‘I would have been in a mess if it weren’t for Charlee.’

Amelia shot his granddaughter a grateful glance and Sean’s heart swelled a little, as though he’d personally coached Charlee in her nursing duties. She’d certainly blossomed over the past ten days; the sullenness that had, for the last couple of years, seemed entrenched only occasionally souring her mood. The change wasn’t only in her attitude. She’d started dressing in clothes which, while still too large on her gaunt frame, were at least clean and tidy. Amelia’s, he suspected, though Charlee put them together in a unique way, rolling up pants, putting a shirt on back to front, tying a scarf around her wrist. And her hair, instead of hanging in lank strands around her face, was pulled into a high ponytail. Like Amelia’s.

Charlee evidently caught his proud look, because she grinned triumphantly. ‘So, if you want to get me goats as a reward, Daideó …’

He shook his head regretfully, though he’d give this girl the world, if he could. ‘Fences at the farm aren’t up to it,macushla. You’d need to speak with your dad about that. It’s his property.’

‘But you’re farming it. Why can’t you speak to him?’

‘Because you’re perfectly capable.’

Charlee’s face drew into the pout he’d come to dread, and he rushed on.

‘In any case, I need your help with something first.’ He’d trapped himself by thoughtlessly throwing that ‘first’ in there: Charlee was whip-smart and would no doubt later point out that her help had been conditional.

‘Being?’ Charlee said.

Even though the word was reluctant, he was encouraged by the fact that she was actually interested. A few weeks back, she would either have been vacant or aggressive. So it didn’t matter if it later cost him thousands in new fences and an entire flock of goats: to have Charlee connected, involved, would be completely worth it.

‘I need a line-dancing outfit.’

‘You need a what?’ Charlee cackled, sitting forward on the edge of the old lounge suite. ‘Daideó, have you been hiding your light under a bushel?Dancing?’

‘Well, I haven’t been, yet. And that’s the other part of the problem. There’s a fundraising dance at the old bank next month, which gives me just weeks to brush up on my skills—and to find the right gear. I’ve been warned I won’t be let in the door without it.’

‘But, Daideó, dancing?’

‘Is this with Tracey’s crowd?’ Amelia asked. ‘She mentioned something about it a while back.’

‘I think mostcrowdsin Settlers Bridge are one and the same, aren’t they? Seems to be a hardcore element of inclusivity. But I’m doing it as a favour to Lynn—and you can stop sniggering, young lady,’ he added to Charlee, though he was delighted to see her burst of amusement. He’d dresslike a clown if it would keep a smile on her face. ‘In fact, you know what? Why don’t you come along?’

Charlee was silent. Damn, he’d pushed her too hard, too soon. But he only had limited time to fix his family.

Amelia caught his expression. ‘You know what, Charlee?’ she said slowly. ‘Why don’t we all go? If Sean’s up for being an idiot, he deserves moral support. Or at least a bigger audience, right?’

Charlee had fallen back into her perpetual scowl, but she suddenly looked doubtful. ‘I can’t line dance.’

‘Me either,’ Amelia said cheerfully. ‘Not beyond the Nutbush, anyway. But don’t forget what I said about trying to do better. Here’s a chance that could actually be fun.’

‘Oh God, I remember the Nutbush from every school sports day ever.’ Charlee rolled her eyes and Sean was instantly cast back to those hot summer days, standing on the school oval, cheering her on as she doggedly pursued ribbons in sports she loathed, simply because Charlee always had to be best at everything.

Charlee tugged at the windcheater she wore. ‘I don’t think your wardrobe extends to line dancing, though, Amelia.’

‘Definitely not. But remember Taylor said that Tracey is the Johnny Appleseed of second-hand clothes? I bet she’d be able to help us out. And, failing that, I’ll take you into Murray Bridge to check out some op shops.’

‘You’re not driving anywhere,’ Charlee said. ‘You’re doddery enough just pottering around the house.’

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