Part 2 of a serialised story by Jess Knaus

The man next door was Keith, and his dog was Samson. In his front yard he had a concrete turtle called Terrance and a small wishing well. Brought him good luck, he said. Keith came from Ireland as a young man – running away from the cold and his brutal mother. “Right ol bag, she was,” he explained with a wry smile. Penny laughed. He’d ended up in a town a few hours away working as a station hand, but he fell in love with the barmaid here in town, Liana. She had died several years back from breast cancer, and he was set on sticking around. He was kind, and as the days continued on he would smile and wave politely. He also had chickens in the yard so he’d bring around eggs from time to time. Penny made a mental note to return the favour and bring over some produce once the garden was up and running.

A few weeks after the move and she was beginning to settle – she’d started her job, was getting to know the town and connecting with a bit of its history. At one point it had been used as a training camp for soldiers during World War 2. There were old ruins of an army hospital, transportation trainlines and a barracks just out of town. Every now and then she’d drive over with a cuppa and wander through the area, imagining how a soldier might view such a small and scrubby little town as their home for a few months. So far away not only from where soldiers ultimately fought, but far away from other towns and cities as well. Endless scrub, red dust and an ongoing horizon. Full of features, but featureless at the same time. A haven hideaway for some, an island on an island for others.

The two black cockatoos visited most weekends. When she was out in the backyard working on the garden she’d see them. For such asymmetrical and wild bushland, their shape was strikingly geometric and distinct. She wished she could experience one day up there, flying side by side with them.

Once a week she’d finish up work and have dinner at the pub. The barman and some of the staff had heard she’d moved to town – Keith had given them a heads up and it seemed by all accounts that if you knew Keith, you were considered a “good one”. Occasionally she’d get a free lime and soda. And plenty of welcoming smiles and waves from kids from school.

One afternoon as she worked away in the garden Keith arrived home with Samson and nodded her way before saying, “hope you’ve grown me some potatoes!” She smiled and pointed to her potato patch. He offered a thumbs up. Samson danced around the yard, tail wagging.

Before he disappeared he called out to her once more, “Penny, have you met Maggie?”. He pointed to the white house on the other side.

She looked towards the house in question, turned back to Keith and replied, “um, no, not yet.”

Keith nodded silently, then disappeared behind his back screen door.

The white house had remained inactive after she saw the women on the balcony, who she now assumed was Maggie.

The garden was beginning to take shape but would need a few seasons for her to learn what grew best, how the sun direction changed between summer and winter, and what she needed to work on in the soil. But she began with potatoes in the back corner, herbs close to the house, root vegetables in the main bed. Start small, go from there.

The fenceline was going to hopefully become a wall of berries, using the fence structure as a trellis.

Working away one afternoon she heard the familiar skwauk of the black cockatoos, lifting her eyes to observe their path.

Someone closeby said, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

She directed her gaze to the person asking the question. It was Maggie, standing next to the fence.

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Photo by Dalal Nizam on Unsplash