The Quilt Page 17

  Sean continued not waiting for Paul to reply.

  “Get a pen and paper, I’ll give you our flight details.”

  The final postcard arrived on the day Paul was due to drive to Auckland and pick them up. People and luggage spewed through the doors, every traveller hesitated looking bewildered as they scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Paul watched the tired strangers file out falling into the arms of loved ones or walking briskly to waiting transport.

  Jean and Sean appeared from behind a trolley laden with suitcases.

  “What the hell is going on? There is a for sale sign on the gate of Kean farm.”

  Sean sounded irritated as the car pulled into the driveway of Twin Pines.

  “Cliff Kean died over a month ago.”

  Paul’s mother looked up from the back seat and met Paul’s eyes in the mirror.

  “Why didn’t you tell us? Was it a heart attack?”

  “No, he went out to check stock during the storm. Why? I don’t know. We were given plenty of notice that the front was on the way and everyone else had moved animals to higher ground in advance. He must have lost his footing and slipped into the river. He got washed down steam and his body was caught in a fallen tree.”

  “Stupid old fool. He should have known better than to be around waterways when there is a risk of flash flooding. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “What good would that have done? You couldn’t have returned in time for the funeral. So all I would have achieved is upsetting you both.”

  Sean looked visibly shaken.

  “Dorothy and Cliff helped me in the early years get established. They brought around three thousand acres of the original Twin Pines land off me when I converted. Without them I don’t know...”

  Sean trailed off.

  “How is Dorothy coping?”

  “She’s moved out already. I visited her after the funeral at her new home unit. It’s not going to be easy for her and I think the circumstances haven’t helped. The farm is a mess. I was surprized to see how much it has deteriorated. Fences need replacing, gorse and ragwort everywhere and I don’t think its seen fertiliser for years. We are running it as part of Twin Pines until it is sold. The sale signs went up yesterday. Whoever buys it will have some work ahead of them. ”

  “No, Sean!”

  Paul glanced nervously in the mirror Jean’s eyes had narrowed to slits.

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  Chapter 17

  “Decisions”

  “Why would you bring home rags?”

  Paul was fingering the squares of fabric that Jean had piled on the kitchen table. He understood the fragile, Italian, blown glass ornaments and the Venetian masks, the bottles of Chianti and Limoncillo but not the little squares of bright fabric.

  “Your mother is not content to knit like the other ladies; she wants to make a quilt. How long it will take to sew together the bits and pieces of our lives I have no idea!”

  He rolled his eyes at Paul.

  “You haven’t had a barbeque yet. I thought you would be in a rush to catch up with the local news.”

  Jean continued scrubbing potatoes in the kitchen.

  “I’ll get around to it. I haven’t even unpacked everything yet. I visited Dorothy yesterday and she seems to be managing.”

  Jean wiped her hands on the apron and indicated to the sideboard.

  “She asked me to give you that. She knitted it and wanted me to say thank you for your help and support after Cliff died.”

  Paul walked over and unfolded the powder blue jersey.

  “It’s merino wool.”

  “That was nice of her but she needn’t have gone to any trouble. I’m glad she is starting to feel better.”

  “I bumped into Debbie on the way back. She was interested to hear about our trip.”

  Sean looked over and winked knowingly at Paul.

  “She also said you went to the movies with her while we were away.”

  “That was months ago. It was nothing more than two friends going to the movies on one occasion. I didn’t even initiate it; she called here just after you left.”

  Jean smiled.

  “Of course she did, but she is a lovely young woman.”

  Paul shook his head. I wonder if she also mentioned reaching for his fingers during the movie and how he had removed his hand. They had not spoken since.

  Sean changed the subject before the light hearted discussion escalated into a family argument.

  “The album was a great idea. Another way Jean can make sure those silly little bits of material end up in the right order.”

  “I would appreciate you not making fun of me. The quilt will be a family heirloom. Assuming, of course, there is a future generation of Clarkes.”

  Jean turned her back on the men and started to scrub furiously at another potato.

  “Don’t worry son. If Jean had her way she would marry you off to that Debbie girl and make you buy Kean farm”.

  Paul was lying on the couch mindlessly watching television when Jess raised her head and looked towards the door. She wagged her tail twice and barked without enthusiasm.

  Sean knocked but had already entered and reached the fridge before Paul had a chance to respond. He took out two cold beers, throwing one to Paul and pulling back the tab of his own with a hiss.

  “What’s eating you?”

  Paul watched as his father settle into a chair on the opposite side of the room.

  Sean took a long drink from his can before speaking.

  “That pushy land agent from Country Real Estate, I can’t remember her name.”

  “Amanda Quinn.”

  “Yes that’s her. She called in today. She didn’t even telephone beforehand. Seems she has a client from the Wairarapa wanting to purchase a larger block of land. They were ready to make an offer on a block on Highway 3 and were apparently driving around the area when they saw the signs outside Kean’s.”

  He took another mouthful from his can before continuing.

  “They have already been over the property next door and according to the agent would have purchased it if it was larger.

  Sean hesitated but put up a hand when Paul started to speak.

  “That Amanda Quinn came in on the off chance we would consider selling Twin Pines. The combined acreage would be sufficient for her purchaser and the land is definitely higher quality than the other farm they are interested in.”

  Sean was no longer making eye contact with Paul.

  “They are cash buyers, which is unusual when you are talking about this sort of money. They have sold a large land holding and some commercial property to overseas investors and are wanting to relocate to the King Country.”

  Sean’s voice lacked any expression and he continued to look at the empty can in his hands.

  “Son, I don’t know what you are planning to do in the future. But if you do not see yourself living and working on Twin Pines in a few years’ time, I think the opportunity should be considered. On the other hand, I would be more than happy to advise Amanda Quinn that we are not interested in selling.”

  “What are your thoughts?”

  “Paul, I really don’t have any thoughts. If I was your age we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would take over Twin Pines and purchase and develop Kean’s farm even if it meant robbing a bank to fund it. But I am not your age and I am not you. I was born a farmer and that is all I ever wanted to be. I can’t and I won’t try to influence your decision. You live in another time and there are more options open to you.”

  Sean looked up from the empty can.

  “Whatever you decide is entirely up to you and we will stand by that decision. If you want to take over Twin Pines I am happy with that. If you want to purchase Kean farm I am happy with that. If you want to sell I will respect your choice. But none of us will be happy if you make a decision based on a misplaced sense of duty.”

  Paul walked over to the fridge and took out two more beers. He h
adn’t finished his own but it gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

  “I had always thought if Twin Pines ever went out of Clarke hands I would have already moved on to another life that did not involve farming.”

  “Paul, we don’t have to even allow these people on to the property. I can pick up the telephone and they will sign on the Highway 3 block tomorrow.”

  “How long have we got to decide?”

  “There is another party interested in the other farm. In fairness to the purchaser we should let them know within the next day or so.”

  “If we sell Twin Pines I really have no idea what I would like to do. You would think in my mid-twenties the answer would be obvious.”

  “The only people that think you should have all the answers by your twenties are those in their twenties. Don’t even try to think too far ahead for the next couple of days. My advice would be for you to use your time to decide if Twin Pines is what you want, or don’t want, in your future. That is the only question you need to answer now and thinking about anything longer term will cloud your judgement.”

  “How will my decision affect you? We are also talking about your home.”

  “Regardless of what happens we will be in a position to purchase something smaller. We are considering a home unit, something that we can lock up and leave. Your mother is already planning another trip to Europe later this year.”

  Sean looked at Paul steadily.

  “It’s time for me to step aside and you can’t live indefinitely in the Shearers Quarters. If you take over here you will need to move up to the main house.”

  Sean got up slowly and held up his hand to stop Paul interrupting.

  “You have a lot to consider and not much time to think it through. If you still feel undecided after a couple of days I would suggest you decline the offer. Once there is a signed unconditional agreement your decision will be irreversible.”

  For a moment Sean stood in the doorway, his eyes focused through the window towards the large redwood at the end of the drive.

  “I’ll take over for the next couple of days to give you a chance to think about the offer. Twin Pines has been a life to many generations of our family but it doesn’t necessarily define everything we can be.”

  As soon as Sean had left the room Jess sat up and placed her head on Paul’s knee. Her liquid, chocolate eyes studied his face.

  “What now, girl? Do you want to come and visit some ghosts with me in the morning?”

  It wasn’t that Paul hadn’t thought through his options. He just hadn’t come up with anything that presented the challenge or created the passion he wanted to make part of his future. Despite Sean’s advice not to try to formulate a life plan he lay awake while his mind filled with turmoil but no solutions. The illuminated clock painfully recorded the hours with a blinking light that pulsed away the seconds.

  At some stage Jess had crawled on to the foot of the bed and nestled against Paul’s feet. It was four thirty when he finally gave up on either rest or finding an easy answer. Jess eyed him with concerned, guilt-ridden eyes from the nest she had created out of his blankets.

  He washed off the last vale of sleep under a hot shower and sat down to a cup of strong, nutty coffee. Despite it being summer, the air was crisp and cool in the predawn hours. The stars above created pin pricks of light against the velvet sky and a tiny crescent of moon smiled above the silhouetted roofline of the buildings.

  Paul let the excited farm dogs out for a run and then settled them back in the kennels with a handful of biscuits. He glanced over to the main house and noticed a dim light was illuminating the kitchen.

  Paul started one of the quad bikes and made his way down the gravel drive. He didn’t turn off on to the wide, established roadway that had been bulldozed through the farm by Allan Clarke, but selected the track that ran around Shearers Cottage. It clung to the edge of the river as it snaked its way through the low areas of farmland. The dirt was well worn and compacted to the texture of concrete. Occasionally, it disappeared and they were forced to pick their way along the flat river stones that formed a rocky beach on either side of the water. Jess followed happily, her tongue lolling out to the side and her expression bright with the promise of an early morning run.

  The soft hint of daybreak sent a milky glow across the water’s surface. They stopped to watch the river turn into a scarlet ribbon and the first shards of light break through the leaves and cast dapples on the damp grass. Paul poured another cup of rich bitter coffee from his flask and skipped the flat stones across the water’s surface for Jess to chase.

  Jess jumped on to the back of the quad, refreshed by a cool drink from the mountain-fed river. They picked their way through a stand of untouched native bush protected years ago from stock by a secure fence. Tiny fantails darted in and out of the canopy above, catching small insects and dancing to a chorus of tuis and woodpigeons.

  They opened a gate, and turned away from the river that had now doubled in width, after a branch flowing through the Kean property had joined its progression. A rainbow trout erupted from the crystal clear water leaving behind a circle of ripples.

  Steep hills rose in front of them forming a tapestry of large, orderly paddocks divided by neat, wire fencing. The pasture was covered in a lacework of sheep tracks worn away over the years by thousands of hooves. At the top Paul hesitated to admire the soft folds of countryside that formed creases enveloping the network of rivers below. Small pockets of stubborn morning fog hung like cotton wool in the deep gullies.

  He opened another gate and they joined the well-formed roadway that ran from the main highway to the rear boundary of Twin Pines. Jess jumped off the bike and reluctantly followed, this was a journey she had made many times before.

  Paul walked over to the edge of the cliff and stood near the jagged bite mark that was still clearly visible. No foliage had established itself on the rocky scar where James had started his fatal tumble into the ravine. The path the huge machine had taken was now hidden by a spidery covering of undergrowth and shrubs.

  No one had ever tried winching the bulldozer from its resting place and Paul could still make out a small portion of faded yellow paint and rusting frame. He looked across the gully to where the stark, naked face of rock stared back blankly. The sun reflected off the grey stone and picked up tiny waterfalls fingering their way through the crevices, small ferns hampered the waters journey their fronds bent under the weight of moisture.

  Paul had never been tempted to believe the intangible, but the flat plate forming James Ridge had a presence he could not explain. Sean had never developed the land. It had remained undisturbed, slowly being reclaimed by secondary growth since the time of James’ accident.

  The sound of Jess panting dragged Paul back from the cliff edge. She was skulking around the edges of the clearing her ears flat and tail drooping submissively.

  Paul sat down heavily on the remainder of the large trunk felled all those years ago by the brothers as they struggled to tame Twin Pines. The massive pine was slowly decomposing. A heavy musky damp smell mingled with the sharp tang of the needles.

  The snow had been falling on the night of the accident. Layers of soft white powder had cloaked the earth. He kicked at the damp soil around the trunk. Jess whimpered and circled him.

  “Cut it out.”

  He reprimanded the old dog. She never settled when they came up to the ridge and, although Paul normally ignored her restlessness, today he found it irritating.

  As far as he knew, Sean had never come up to this remote, lonely place. Perhaps it reminded him of Allan’s drunken violent outbursts, the tragic accident that claimed James’ life or perhaps even Anne’s disappearance. Maybe it disturbed the memories he kept behind a door no one dared attempt to open.

  Jess was keen to jump back on to the quad. They left the isolated clearing and made their way into the paddocks running down the opposite side of the roadway. Paul took the opportunity to check the few head of cattle
that still ran on Twin Pines and rotated with the flocks of sheep. The herd moved nervously at the sound of the bike and filed up the hill in a mass of black muscle. He stopped to tension a fence and check the water levels in the troughs.

  They followed the top ridge of the hills that undulated in front of them before dropping down and picking up a narrow path along the disturbed stream that lazily wound through the lower parts of the pasture. Paul spent a few minutes checking for possums in the catchment areas that had been planted for autumn colour. The huge trees were a mass of green at this time of the year. It would be a few months before they showed off their red and gold foliage.

  The final landscaped pond was much the same as it had been years before when Paul had sat next to Leslie staring at the distant trees. There was now an additional moss-covered, rustic seat made out of railway sleepers and placed at the edge of the water, otherwise time had stood still. If he had gone to university Twin Pines may already have been in someone else’s hands. He would have graduated by now and would have been practicing as a veterinarian.

  Paul watched the tuis flitting in and out of the kowhai trees. In the distance they looked black with their white chest tuft standing out in stark contrast. It wasn’t until they were close that you could see their vibrant blues and greens.

  It was mid-afternoon when Paul pushed open the door of Shearers Cottage. The paint had started to flake off the veranda like dandruff and a mass of cobwebs clung to the outside walls. A rank, stale odour hung in the air and suspended dust particles reflected in the sunlight. The sickly smell of Leslie’s perfume had long since faded.

  The piles underneath the structure had begun to collapse and the floor fell away at an alarming angle. The interior of the building felt cold and soulless; there was an atmosphere of sickness and it seemed to permeate from the walls. Paul shuddered and turned away from the building. The garden was overgrown with dock and nightshade, the grounds felt neglected and abandoned.