SINK OR SWIM

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The rain had eased to a misty drizzle, hardly more than an annoyance. From the kitchen Hamish could see a corner of his wheat crop. It had fallen over under its own weight. Wet wheat was only good for stock feed, hardly worth the cost of harvesting. There was still the occasional pregnant drop exploding on the iron roof but the percussion was hardly enough to disguise the irritation of the approaching vehicle. Hamish predicted the identity of his visitor, the bank manager. Barry had called the other day. Said he'd bring out the paperwork, documents confirming the bank as mortgagee in possession. Three generations of hard work pissed away. Hamish didn't know if Megan was in denial or just bloody stupid, he suspected the latter. Up until the eleventh hour she was still ordering shoes from Milan and bags from Madrid. He gave up protesting years ago having lost the will. Loss of income wouldn't worry his wife but the loss of social profile cash provided could damage her. Thoughts of ending things were frequent. Tried the exhaust option once, had everything rigged up but couldn't go on with it after he ran out of breath. Now he had been pushed out of the driver's seat he felt a sense of liberation, for the most part anyway. There were occasional moments when he drifted back to darker places. At the very least, Hamish felt a responsibility to keep the family holiday on track. The routine was familiar. Pick up the kids from school and then a month at Palm Beach enjoying the hospitality of his brother. Angus was smart enough to get off the land a while back. A few wins on the stock market meant an early and comfortable retirement. The men enjoyed a close relationship and although generous, Angus didn't have the means to bail his brother. What he did have was a contact in a nearby caravan park. C'mon mate, you're better off being broke at the beach than broke in the bush. He had a point but Megan wasn't convinced. It was a relief the way the kids embraced their new life, removed some of the pressure. Hamish didn't mind the move either, no debt, no stress. A labouring job that kept him fit and paid better than the land ever did and best of all, the beach, should have moved here years ago. The family members pursued different priorities. Hamish worked, Tom surfed, Alex played hockey and Megan took heroin. These were unchartered waters for 'simple country folk'. Megan's destructive spiral and predicted demise were pre ordained. Perhaps her disintegration may have made more sense had Hamish known more of her past. A lottery win for Mick, her feral companion, momentarily had her thinking of a better life but when Mick gave her the news that she didn't figure in his future plans retribution was brutal. The fight upset cooking apparatus that had Mick's cabin ablaze in seconds. They were both most likely dead before the flames took hold. Hamish could once again commence a life but this time with the ones he really loved, his kids.

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