‘Mate, you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is.’ As he spoke, he looked over his shoulder. ‘When I had to sell up the Grainger’s farm, last year, it took me weeks to sleep properly again. The old man’s face crumpled when I told him there was nothing more I could do for him. If I’d had my way, I would’ve given him another year, but the head office wouldn’t have it. The problem with the big banks is they don’t understand the variances of farming: the seasons, the fluctuations in prices, all the things that can change in the blink of an eye.’
As Dave listened, he realised Mark had had a few too many drinks. The bank manager shouldn’t be talking out of school; confidentiality was paramount in his business.
‘How are you getting home?’ Dave interrupted, thinking even though it was so early in the night, Mark should leave before he said too much more.
‘Walking, probably.’ He looked up at Dave and stared him straight in the eye, then glanced across to where Sam was still laughing with Malcolm. ‘What are you going to do next year now, Dave?’
Pleased to be off sensitive topics, he waved his beer around before answering. ‘Just what I’ve been doing this year. Working on Wind Valley. Trying to improve what I’m allowed to. Dad seems to resist my ideas.’
‘Working on the farm still?’ Mark’s voice rose in surprise, then he seemed to gather himself. ‘Well, you know, with the land you’ve got, I’ve got my reservations about how it’s going to carry four families, Dave.’
‘Why’s that?’ Dave felt the first stirring of apprehension in his stomach.
‘Well, the forecast for grain prices isn’t good. Now with Dean getting married it has to make a livelihood for both Sam and Carlene, as well as Dean and Mandy. Obviously, couples need more money than singles, but there’ll be a time that both you and Adam want to marry. You should think about doing something else, I think. If you want my professional opinion.’
Gritting his teeth, Dave wondered where the hell that comment had come from. ‘Thanks for that, Mark. I’ll take it on board. Anyway, I’d better go and talk to some others…’ Mark grabbed his arm. ‘Dave, I’m telling you. You need to think about what you’re going to do next year because Wind Valley Farm isn’t going to be your future.’
Butterflies rose in Dave’s stomach as he thought back to his father’s cagey answer about the budget, and his unexpected trip into town that morning and on the previous Monday when he didn’t come home for lunch. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Look I’ve said too much already,’ Mark answered. ‘I just appreciate you’ve got so much potential as a farmer. You’ll be wasted working with your family. Go see if you can make a name for yourself, Dave. Somewhere else. Away from here.’ He swayed a little as he raised his glass. ‘You’ll be a leader somewhere, sometime, Dave. You’ve got the ability to go far.’
Dave revved his ute’s engine and took off, gravel spraying the porch of the club rooms and the cars around him. He drove fast towards Wind Valley, taking the corners too close to the edge of the road. His heart was beating fast and he was sweating, feeling sick. He hoped he was jumping to conclusions, but he was sure Mark’s warning had some kind of prior knowledge behind it. What he wanted to do was storm over to his father, in the middle of everyone, and demand to know what was going on. Make the whole community understand what kind of a man Sam really was. But he wouldn’t. He would gather evidence first.
Before he’d left Dean’s buck’s party, he’d made sure his dad was still enjoying the drinks. Sam had gone from talking to Malcolm, to leaning on the bar, chatting to the football coach and acting out moves he thought they should try when the season started again.
Pulling up at the house, he heard the dogs barking, and felt the moisture of the cool night on his skin. Unexpectedly, tears pricked at his eyes; this farm was the only place he wanted to be. He didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t here. What if…Dave couldn’t even think about the possibility of not being here.
Scratching at his face, he tried to get rid of any trace of tears, annoyed with his weakness.
Finally, composing himself, Dave checked to make sure the lounge light was out, meaning his mum was in bed, and quietly went up the front steps.
Sam’s office was at the back of the house and it had been a fun place to be when he’d been younger. The sun filtered through in winter and warmed the room. All the brothers had enjoyed sitting under the window and reading farming magazines, once their dad had finished with them. Summer had seen the curtain drawn tightly to keep the heat out.
There was a photo on the wall of a pen of steers which had topped a sale in Sam’s first year of farming and his desk was always neat and tidy. Against one wall there was a bar and on the floor a cattle skin. A TV was on top of a cabinet, so he could keep up to date with cricket and football scores.
Dave switched on the light and looked at the desk, wondering how had things gone so wrong. What had caused his dad to despise him so much?
Looking over his shoulder, he moved to the desk and flicked through the piles of bills to be paid and grain statements. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he thought perhaps the budget would hold a clue.
The heavy black cash-flow book was kept in the top drawer, and underneath it Dave found another book, one he hadn’t seen before. Flicking it open, he saw it was a planner for
