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Bonnie had her phone in her hand. “I’m texting Briar to tell him we’re on our way.”
A good idea. No way he wanted to hang around.
It was less than twenty minutes’ drive to the Appleton place. He didn’t recognise the neat new fence separating the property from the road. One of Briar’s improvements, along with the large sign declaring it to be “Appleton’s Organics”. The old timber post-and-rail fence had gone the way of all flesh, though he noticed a section left on each side of the driveway. Another sign stated, “Authorised people only”.
“I guess we count as authorised.”
Bonnie leaned forward, scanning the buildings. “It’s because the place is registered as an organic farm. Tourists try and cut across the property on their way into the mountains and they can bring contaminants with them. Discarded fruit peelings and that kind of thing.”
She pointed to a parking area near a large shed with another Appleton sign beside the wide door. The car park was only packed earth, framed with logs around the edge, but it would keep cars off the grass. There was a scattering of cars up near the sheds he figured belonged to workers. Herbs and mushrooms would be fairly intensive to harvest. A field of lavender grew beyond the empty space, long lines of greyish shrubs with occasional out of season purple tips.
A young lad came from the shed, wearing jeans and a hoodie, his dark hair in dreadlocks. “Briar headed up to the sheds in the back paddock to bring down the mushrooms. He shouldn’t be long.”
Xander tried not to let his irritation show. He’d hoped to be in and out, not hanging around. Bonnie didn’t seem worried, stepping over a timber log to pick one of the stray lavender stems. “Where did you live when you were here?”
He waved an arm to indicate the bushland beyond the three large greenhouses near the shed. “Over there, past the main homestead.”
Bonnie immediately headed that way, her delicious rear view in the tight jeans under a loose fleecy jacket enticing him to follow. In any case, it was interesting to see the changes over the last five years. He’d come here a couple of times during the year before Bonnie headed to Canada. He’d had heaps of plans at the time, but once he’d argued with Bonnie, there hadn’t seemed to be any point in following up. The old hothouse frame with the tattered plastic covering was gone, replaced by larger versions with polycarbonate sheeting protecting the plants inside.
The old homestead had been spruced up with a lick of paint, the rusty gutters replaced and possibly the roof as well. It wasn’t fancy, but it had charm. At least it was no longer in imminent danger of falling down.
Bonnie came to a halt beside the traditional outhouse, which had been repaired for use as a shed, a herb garden filling the formerly bare ground around it. The Hills hoist still stood at the end of a paved pathway, slightly wonky from years of children using it as a merry-go-round. There’d been good times as well as bad. They were harder to remember because the last, painful years laid a stronger claim to his memories.
Turning slowly, Bonnie’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Where do we go from here?”
“Along the track through the scrub. Past the lemon tree.” He followed her, still wondering at her curiosity after all these years. The ragged bushland had fewer good memories. He hadn’t been allowed to come down and play with Briar and the other children living in the main house during the last couple of years. Rubbing his chest against the ache, he came out into a clearing. Even now, nothing grew on the scuffed earth. The remains of a fire pit scarred the centre of the open area, rocks in a jagged circle marking the rim. The dirt was stained with patches of dark red ochre, like dried blood against the granite soil. He turned away from disturbing memories to scan the tree line.
Tucked into the scrub were three caravans. The small one he’d shared with Sunny and his mother, the larger one where Sid hung out with his mates, and the third one where Trudie and her aunts had lived. There were other shelters further into the trees behind Sid’s van, not visible and probably derelict. Off to one side was the overgrown track through which the caravans had been towed to their present spot back in the sixties and then left. A wattle tree had grown up in the middle of the track sometime in the last fifteen years.
“This is where you lived?”
Bonnie did that turn again, taking in the whole of the clearing.
“Yes. In the small one over there.”
He stayed back, not wanting to see the confined space where he’d spent his early childhood, but Bonnie had no qualms. The vans looked intact, only the staining from the overhanging gum trees marking what he could see of the roof of his former home. If anything, they looked in better order, windows repaired and a lick of paint in a light khaki helping them blend into the bush. He’d half expected the van to be locked but the door opened to Bonnie’s touch when she knocked. Casting him a funny look, like she expected him to react badly, she poked her nose inside.
“It looks unused.”
His breath came out in a rush when she shut the door and moved away.
“It’s fairly clean, apart from a layer of dust. Briar must be maintaining them. Maybe for seasonal workers.”
“Have you seen enough?” The words came out sharp and she looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Sure. I didn’t realise you were in a hurry.”
He flexed his shoulders. This place gave him the creeps. “Briar might be waiting.”
Spinning on his heel, he headed back along the pathway, emerging by the lemon tree. The fruit was a bright yellow, reminding him of sunshine and the lemon cordial Honey Appleton made in the kitchen of the homestead. He sucked in a breath, grateful for the scent of herbs and citrus, banishing the fouler odours in his memory.
Briar was waiting on the verandah and jogged down the steps when he spotted the visitors. He was in his usual op-shop gear of tatty jeans and a patched denim jacket over a bright-yellow polo-neck skivvy. His long blondish hair hung in a braid down the centre of his back. His bright eyes, an astonishing jade green, so different from the woodland green of Bonnie’s, rested on Xander with a slight pulling in of his brows.
“Alexander, long time no see.” He handed Xander a bunch of keys and nodded at Bonnie who’d come up behind. “I have your order ready. The boys are loading it into the Toyota.”
He fell into step beside them, walking past the greenhouses. His slightly green-tinged fingers flicked at the construction. “You’ve come to inspect your investment?”
Xander shot a glance at Bonnie, but she seemed oblivious, a slight wrinkle in her forehead indicating something worrying her.
