Greener Pastures - Alyssa Brugman [35]
'Boxes?'
'Big cardboard tea chests. For packing. They're being delivered today.'
'Oh.' Shelby curled her feet up underneath her and leaned her head against the seat back. She felt like crying again but after yesterday she had no more tears left. She was exhausted. 'I guess it's too late for me to try to talk you out of it then.'
They stopped at a set of traffic lights. He took the coffee from her and slurped. 'It's not forever, Shel. You'll be amazed how quickly the time passes. You never know, you might even like the new stables better.'
'I don't think I will,' she said wearily.
He watched her for a moment, slurping. Then the light turned green. He threw back the rest of his coffee in one gulp and handed her the empty mug. 'I don't do "listen to me because I'm old" very much, but now I think I will. In my life there have been a whole lot of things that I did reluctantly and they've ended up being the best decisions I ever made. Like you, for example.'
'Me?'
'That's right,' her father continued. It started to sprinkle and he switched on the wipers. 'Your mother was ready to have babies but I was petrified. I didn't think we were ready. Our house wasn't big enough. I wasn't earning enough money. We were too young. But then as soon as I saw you I was so completely entranced I knew right then we had to have more as soon as possible.'
'I'm like that with ponies,' Shelby remarked, munching on another piece of toast.
She had trouble picturing what her parents must have been like before they had kids. Looking after her and her brothers seemed to be a full-time occupation. It was hard to imagine them doing anything else.
'What I'm trying to tell you is that if you always wait for the best time then you might never end up doing anything. I'm older than you, and I know that even the most brilliant things in the world come with some measure of inconvenience. That's just the way it is.'
Shelby stared out the window. Drops speckled the glass pane. She sipped her tea.
'Besides, you might find that you grow out of ponies, honey,' he added.
She bristled, but she didn't reply.
Her dad didn't say anything for a long time. He was busy concentrating as he wended his way through the early morning commuter traffic and on to the freeway.
Shelby realised that in his way, he had been trying to make her feel better about the trip, but she also felt he was trying to make himself feel better by making her more positive, and she thought that was unfair. Maybe he was right. Maybe in ten years time she would look back on this overseas trip and think it was the best thing ever. Perhaps she would recall her 'pony phase' fondly, but she didn't feel that way now.
Shelby shook her head. 'You're older than me, Dad, and you know heaps more things, but I know for certain that I'm not going to like the new place better and I'm never going to grow out of ponies.'
'Well, I admire your commitment.' He sighed.
When she finished her tea she slipped the two mugs on the floor and then rested her head on her arm and snoozed. Every now and then she would peer out the rainy window at the tall rock cuttings or the glimpses out the mouth of the Hawkesbury River. The views over the bushland were striking, but she knew there weren't any horses to see until they had passed the Ourimbah exit, so she decided to doze until then.
The next time she opened her eyes they were taking the turn-off towards her great-aunt's place. There were long stretches of scrub and the occasional house. On the right side of the road she saw paddocks filled with black cows grazing. A whole group of them lay under a tree, chewing cud. In the next paddock were a few mares with foals. She stretched her arms and yawned.
Her dad consulted a piece of paper from his shirt pocket, murmuring directions to himself. They passed a cross street and her dad stopped in the middle of the road. 'Was that . . .? Hmm.' He reversed and turned into the street.
'Two nine three,' he mumbled.
'It's probably rural numbering,' she said. 'It will be almost three