Breeding – Preview

As Bruce parked in the driveway of his parents’ place, his mum emerged from the front door. She had been eagerly waiting to see her little boy. ‘Bruce, it’s so good to see you,’ she said as she embraced him warmly. Bruce gave her his best smile; he was really happy to see her.
Merve appeared in the doorway. ‘G’day, mate,’ he added as he gave his son a firm handshake.
Bruce grabbed his bag from the Cruiser’s passenger side and followed his mum inside, with Merve behind, closing the door. ‘Frances will be here for dinner and I’m preparing a stuffed topside roast because I know it’s a favourite for you both,’ Doris said. Bruce hardly needed her to tell him. His nostrils and sinuses were being caressed with the glorious aroma of roasting beef and veggies.
‘Did I ever tell you, you’re an amazing mum?’ he said to Doris.
‘Just doing what mum’s do,’ replied Doris as she busied herself with some further preparations for dinner. ‘One day you’ll know exactly what I mean. You’ll have your own children. If they end up anything like you and Frances, you will be blessed.’
Merve had grabbed two stubbies of beer from the fridge and a can of lemonade. With a little bit from each stubbie, he made his wife a shandy in a tall glass, which she always enjoyed before dinner, found some stubbie coolers to insulate the beers and offered one to Bruce. ‘Cheers, mate,’ he said. ‘Cheers, Honey,’ he toasted to his wife, ‘Here’s to a perfect dinner.’
Merve and Bruce perched themselves on stools around the kitchen island as Doris kept working on dinner and all three caught up with each other. Though Merve and Doris had almost daily had an update on the muster, there was nothing like hearing it from Bruce in person as the chat cues prompted questions that seem to get missed in a phone conversation. Merve was very impressed how his son had handled it, and especially how he had worked so well with Col and his young family. ‘You’re a born leader, Bruce,’ he offered. ‘You’re doing a lot better than I would have done at your age.
‘Bit of nuisance about that bull though, Bruce. They say, when you have livestock, you have dead stock, but it surely doesn’t have to be the most valuable one you own,’
Merve despaired. They had a good yarn about blackleg and how Bruce might prevent any future deaths. ‘That vet seems pretty handy, Bruce. She did a good job when we got her out to preg test the heifers a few months ago.’
Handy is one way to describe her, thought Bruce, who was inwardly assigning a whole pile of more flattering descriptors to Eileen.
Bruce agreed. As much as discussion about Eileen brought an unstoppable smile to his face, he thought he should steer the discussion well out of that territory before he dropped his guard and admitted he’d more than had her out for veterinary work. ‘That Kubota has been brilliant, Dad,’ he offered. ‘It was great when my foot was out. Now I understand why Simone likes it so much.’ Merve was eager to discuss vehicles, and Bruce breathed easier.
Just before six o’clock, Frances arrived, prompting Merve to get her a beer as well. She too was very pleased to see her brother. ‘Good to see your lameness has gone, Bruce. Is the toe good now?’ she asked.
‘It’s only a few weeks, Frances, and it’s as good as it could be. It’s amazing how nude I felt, not being able to get my boot on. Maybe I should wear steel-capped boots next time I go crabbing?’ he replied.
‘Yeah. How long do you reckon you can stay? I’d love to take you out on the town, maybe tomorrow night?’ Frances asked hopefully.
‘I’ll stay for that Frances. Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,’ Bruce replied.
‘Knowing you, you haven’t been out the gate of Bovale for weeks, brother. You need socialising,’ Frances added.
‘I might have snuck into town just once, Frances,’ Bruce said with just a hint of the pleasure look in his eye.
Frances was sharp. She did not miss it. ‘And what was on in town, Bruce? Maybe not just Mick and Craig getting you anaesthetised?’ she queried, certain she’d spotted guilt of some sort.
‘Just for a change Frances, I was good. We went to the pub and had a steak and a beer,’ Bruce said.
‘You three don’t just have a beer, Bruce,’ Frances teased gently. ‘I just hope it was clean fun and I suspect it might have even been that, given your back leg was lame, as Craig calls it.’
Doris had dinner ready, and they descended on the dining room table. Doris had set the table with a small vase of leafy gum tree twigs and flowers at each end. The tablecloth was one of her finest. The silver cutlery was set alongside placings from her beautiful dinner set. Doris was creating the best ambience she could for a special dinner with the most precious people in her life.
Bruce had to lick his lips a few times. He was salivating so much in anticipation of the feast, the aromas of which were driving his senses giddy in delight. ‘Thanks, Mum, this is Christmas,’ he said. Merve and Frances agreed as they all waited to be served and for Doris to sit before they hoed into the magnificent tucker.
They had all finished their beers. Merve had brought out a bottle of shiraz and added it to the table earlier. Not only did it give the setting even better ambience, he knew they would all enjoy it immensely. At some stage in the past, he had learned the simple art of how to attractively wrap a serviette around the neck of the bottle to avoid spillage, which would help keep stains off the tablecloth. With a bit of ceremony, Merve poured wine for himself, Frances and Bruce into the crystal glasses Doris had set. Doris was envious as she had to stick with a sparkling water; no sense in reducing the chances of chemotherapy doing its job.
‘A toast to you, Bruce, and how you’re handling Bovale,’ Merve said. All raised their drinks.
Bruce said, ‘Thanks everyone. It’s a full-on gig, but I really enjoy the work and the challenge…’”
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