We arrived after dark, kids asleep on the back seat, dog alert, whining to be allowed out of the car. Country smells had him quivering with excitement, so Robert let him out first. I hoped he wouldn’t explore too far on our first night in a strange place.
“Can you put the lights on high beam, love?” My husband’s voice echoed in the vast space around us as he turned back to the meter box.
Obediently, I leant across and adjusted the headlights. Robert stood out against dark brown, weatherboard walls that could do with a coat of paint. The green, cabled jumper that I had knitted for him in our student days, still hung loosely on his trim frame and his corduroy trousers from the same period, looked suitably warm for the frosty night air.
Yes, I am following you anywhere, I thought. Let’s hope this new venture will give us enough money to go back home and pay the mortgage.
“The power’s not connected,” Robert said, walking towards me. “We’ll have to unload in the light from the car. There’s a kerosene lamp in one of the boxes inside.”
He opened the passenger door and reached into the glove box. “Here’s a torch. Go and see if you can find the lamp.”
Coming to this lonely farm house was bad enough. How did he think we could unload the children, make up beds and find everything in the dark? I got out of the car and walked across crunchy grass. The front door was unlocked. A pity he didn’t check the electricity this afternoon when they delivered our stuff, I thought, stepping inside.
Waving the torch around, I noted a brick fireplace, pale brown stains on the ceiling, walls painted yellowish green, jarrah floor boards, no curtains on the window. Plonked in the middle of the living room were the boxes that we had packed several days earlier.
“It has to be in one that he packed,” I muttered, pushing aside my efficiently labelled handiwork.
Robert came in, carrying two cases. “Jane’s awake,” he announced and continued walking through a doorway off the living room. “Have you found the lamp yet?”
My breath came out in a noisy rush as I ripped a box open. Towels, books, the dog’s lead and his water bowl got thrown on the floor.
“Do you remember where you put it?” I was almost in tears as I continued pulling things out of the box.
“It’s okay, love. I’ll find it.” He gave me a quick hug. “You bring the kids in. Jane’s bed’s in that room. Stuart will be in with us.” He pointed to the room where he had just put the cases.
It was one in the morning when we fell into bed. Almost immediately, it started; thump, thump in the ceiling. Eyes staring into the dark, heart thumping as loudly as the intruders, I was wide awake and ready to defend my babies.
To be continued: