20 SEAN

20 Sean

‘Still locking your dad out, then?’ Sean said as Charlee observed him through a chink in the door.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She opened the door wide.

‘Because we both know you’re smart enough not to need to keep punishing him.’

‘All three of us know that,’ Amelia added, walking slowly toward them down the hallway.

‘Honestly, I’m taking your phones off all of you,’ Charlee grumbled, but a smile tweaked the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m the one here all the time, but I swear you text each other more than you talk to me. And obviously it’s about me.’

Sean’s ears pricked. Did that ‘all of you’ include exchanges between Heath and Amelia? In stark contrast to the previous two years, when he’d had to bargain and demand to get Heath off the farm for a few hours, each time he’d come into town over the last couple of weeks, Heath had grabbed a lift on the pretext of completing some chore, yet Charlee would later reveal that Heath had come knocking on Amelia’s door. And that Charlee had ignored him.

‘Sorry to deflate your ego, but not everything is about you, Charlee-girl.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Charlee said as she took one of the fabric carrier bags from him and led the way to the lounge room. Lit by the fanlight window above the front door, the rustic, wide plank floors of the hallway gave off a dull gleam. Two rooms opened off the passageway either side, set slightly asymmetrically, so that the doorways didn’t look into one another. Although the kitchen was the furthest on the right, it was relatively dark in winter, and they’d taken to eating in the lounge room.

The two lambs lay on a shaggy rug in front of the fire, stretched luxuriantly like labradors enjoying the last of the warmth. On the left, a coal scuttle held neatly cut twigs of identical lengths and on the right, a matching beaten copper bucket held single newspaper pages, each twisted into a cylinder and stacked upright.

‘You know they’re never going back in the paddock, right?’ Sean said, nodding at the nappy-wearing sheep.

‘You do know they’re never going back in the paddock, right?’ Amelia answered with a grin.

‘It’s too frosty for them outside,’ Charlee protested, fondling Karmaa’s silky ears before putting the shopping bag on the low table between the comfortable couches.

Sean tipped his head back, beseeching patience from above. ‘You realise there’s a paddock full of them out at the farm? Frolicking and playing and not minding that frost at all.’

‘Yep. But yours are farm animals. Not Karmaa and Kismet.’

Amelia chuckled. ‘Don’t look to me for backup, Sean. I’m one hundred per cent with your granddaughter on this one.’

‘So this is the unofficial start of the travelling farm Heath told me about?’ he teased.

Charlee shot Amelia a glance Sean couldn’t interpret, but he was aware of a sense of repressed excitement in the room. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing at all,’ Amelia responded. ‘Though Charlee did find a trio of miniature goats looking for a new home on Facebook …’

He took the couch opposite where Amelia sat on an armchair. ‘I’m surprised goats know how to use Facebook. But you remember how I said no one in a small town is going to bat an eye at a couple of lambs in your backyard? I think they might draw the line at a herd of goats.’

‘I know,’ Amelia said with a sigh. ‘This cottage is lovely, but looking into the backyard and seeing fences is kind of crippling me. It seems weird not to have an endless view to a horizon.’

Charlee headed across the hall to the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder, ‘One, you could keep the goats out at the farm, Daideó. And two, you’re nuts, Amelia. This place is perfect: close enough to town that you can walk to the shops, but far enough out of the city that you don’t have to deal with crap.’ She came back into the room carrying plates and a knife. ‘And, speaking of crap, cling wrap, Daideó?’

Sean nodded as he drew the packages out of the bag. ‘Yep. The anathema of the intelligent teen, I know. But also, date loaf, which will stick to everything, given half a chance. So a man’s gotta do—’

‘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 most crowds in 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 dress like 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.’

Amelia pouted. ‘But I want to go.’

Sean could have applauded. The woman was playing Charlee’s need to be needed perfectly.

‘Well, we’ll see if Tracey has anything,’ Charlee said, like a mother making a deal with her child. ‘But we’re not going to know how to do the dances anyway.’

‘Like I said, I haven’t been to a “training” session either,’ Sean repeated. ‘There are some practices before the fundraiser—maybe we could all go? Or I wonder whether there’s something online? We could learn a few moves before we make idiots of ourselves.’

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Charlee had her phone out, operating the device with her thumb as she held up her other hand to stop him speaking. God, he remembered that autocratic move so well. With her intense fascination in just about everything, Charlee had always demanded silence while she sourced and imparted information she was certain everyone needed to hear from her.

‘Got it!’ she announced dramatically. ‘YouTube for the win. Right. Who’s up for a lesson?’

It was typical Charlee—typical old Charlee—to immediately take on the role of instructor, despite knowing no more than they did. Typical, infuriating, obnoxious—and his chest tightened with a desire to cry with joy. His girl was back.

‘I think that’s an outside-on-the-verandah deal,’ Amelia said. She pushed Kismet, who had her hooves on Amelia’s knee and looked to be working out the best way to find space on the lounge, down to the floor. ‘And it’s time the kids went out for a run.’

With the sheep racing ahead of them, the magpie comically darting between their legs as though she’d forgotten how to fly, they made their way to the back verandah.

‘Bit chilly,’ Sean observed, folding up the collar on his jacket.

Charlee whipped the nappies off the lambs. ‘You’ll warm up soon enough,’ she said to him, as though she already knew all about line dancing.

As the animals made for the bare branches of a tree in the garden—which showed concerning signs of being ringbarked by sharp little teeth—Charlee propped her phone on a windowsill and directed them into position.

With music blasting from the phone, Charlee picked up the steps quickly. Within two rounds of ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ she was admonishing them with ‘left, step, step, grapevine, reverse’ like she was a pro.

For five minutes, Sean and Amelia laughingly tried to follow her directions, colliding with each other and missing as many steps as they managed. Then Amelia shook her head, leaning one hand against the verandah post.

‘I think I’m about done for the day. You carry on, though. I’ll watch.’

Charlee immediately turned the music off. ‘Sorry, Amelia, I wasn’t thinking. Here. Have a seat.’ She pushed a garden chair forward. ‘That’ll do for today, anyway. Give me chance to find some other dances and better music before— When is the class, Daideó?’

‘Tuesday afternoon,’ he said, pulling up a chair and shoving his hair off his damp forehead. The dance made for a surprising workout. ‘But you’ll be back at uni then, won’t you?’

Charlee shrugged. ‘I don’t get graded on attendance and the information’s all online, so I don’t need to be there.’

‘Isn’t it a better look if you’re present, though?’

Charlee gave him an almost shy grin. ‘Let’s be straight, Daideó. The chances of me actually turning up for a class I don’t have to attend are pretty marginal. I’d more likely be holed up in my flat binge-watching something mindless while I wait for Ethan to get home.’

She painted a sad picture of her life. ‘Speaking of, isn’t he wondering where you’ve got to?’

‘He’s chill. Knows I have to do what makes me happy. Besides, as long as I keep away from the drugs, he’s cool.’

‘What is it that makes you happy, then, Charlee?’ Amelia asked softly, and Sean admired the genuine interest in her voice.

Charlee flopped into a chair and fondled Karmaa’s ears as, like a well-trained dog, the lamb instantly came over for a stroke. ‘This. Hanging with the animals, feeding them, looking after them. Knowing that they actually need me, depend on me. Get something good out of me being around, instead of me just being a reminder of … you know, crap. And I like being with you, too, of course,’ she added a little guiltily, as though Amelia would be offended by the omission.

As Charlee’s cheeks coloured and she ducked her chin to focus on the lamb, Amelia made eye contact with Sean. She lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head a little, evidently trying to convey something to him.

He got it. As he’d learned at the RAG meeting—thanks to Ethan—the opposite of addiction was connection. And it looked like perhaps Charlee was on her way to finding both a focus and a connection. Now they just needed to find a way to harness and encourage the interest.

‘So what gear do we need for this line dancing gig, Daideó?’ As she used to do, Charlee had already seized the bit between her teeth and would steamroll ahead with their plan.

‘I’m not too sure, macushla . What were they wearing on your video?’ He gestured at the phone she’d retrieved from the window ledge.

Charlee put the phone onto the glass-topped outdoor table. ‘Feral stuff,’ she said disdainfully, apparently oblivious to her own appearance over the past couple of years. ‘Ugg boots, thongs, wifebeaters. Whatever they’ve dragged out from under their bed. We can do so much better than that. We need Akubras, cowboy boots. Maybe vests with tassels … Don’t worry, Daideó, that’s not for you. I see you in …’ She tapped a finger against her lip. ‘You’ve got tight black jeans, right? You need a black button-through with heaps of gold embroidery on the shoulders. A lariat. Perhaps a bandana in your jeans pocket.’ She sat forward eagerly. ‘You’ll be the hottest commodity in the room.’

Amelia chuckled. ‘There’s definitely something sexy about a guy who can dance.’

‘We haven’t crossed that bridge yet,’ Sean warned. ‘And I’m not entirely sad that I doubt you’ll be able to find any of that gear, Charls.’

Charlee grinned unrepentantly. ‘Don’t worry your ancient head about it, Daideó. We’ll get you all tricked up. If Tracey can’t help out, I’ll hit up Depop and see what’s online.’

She’d completely lost him—and lost sight of the fact that he wasn’t looking to be the star attraction at the dance—but Sean didn’t care. Because he had the old Charlee back.

‘I’m going to rope Ethan in, too,’ Charlee said, warming to the idea.

‘You think he’ll be into it?’ Amelia said.

‘Like I said, he’s pretty easy going.’ She pressed her lips together for a moment and shot Sean a sideways glance. ‘So I’m dragging Ethan along, you’re with Lynn … but we can’t have Amelia going alone. Thoughts?’

Sean narrowed his eyes. He could tell she had a plan up her sleeve, yet seemed oddly uncertain whether to share—a very different Charlee to the one who was usually so cocksure and steamrolled everyone into doing things her way.

‘Line dancing isn’t partnered,’ Amelia protested.

He admired her nerve—or perhaps it was naivete? Amelia had never come up against his granddaughter’s scheming before. Whatever Charlee had in mind for her new friend was sure to happen, despite the Amelia’s protests. Although he wouldn’t have thought Charlee knew enough people in the small town to rope in a date for her. Perhaps it was one of Ethan’s friends? The age group wouldn’t be far wrong. ‘Who are you thinking of, Charlee? Short of Dave Jaensch—’ he shot a teasing glance at Amelia ‘—I reckon most blokes we met at the action group were already spoken for.’

‘Firstly,’ Charlee said, standing up, ‘you’re gender stereotyping: who even said anything about Amelia’s date being male? And secondly, I’ll let you know after I’ve told him . Speaking of, I have to go down to the shops. So you may stay and babysit Amelia, Daideó, but no more of your scheming.’

Sean laughed. ‘Pot, kettle, black.’