Troy had quizzed Indi after training why Limp had Randy’s last name and all the shearers had the last name Dunn. He knew they weren’t all brothers.
‘We give them the last name of the bloke they work for,’ she explained. ‘The shearers work for Mick Dunn, the shearing contractor. Lucky works for the Taylors, and so forth. It’s a way for everyone to work out where these blokes fit in. They put it like this on the footy programs.’
Troy smiled, liking the idea. ‘I’ve never seen it done that way. Every town there’s something new,’ he’d said.
It left Indi wondering just how many clubs he’d been at.
Indi adjusted her grip on the microphone. ‘Next is James Erving, wearing lucky number ten, worn by the great Peter Erving, our esteemed publican, who once played AFL back when footy shorts were real shorts.’ James shook Troy’s hand and held up his jumper. It was a special number, well known in this town.
‘Next is the greatest number, twenty-five, once worn by Allan Wilson and now by our current club champ Patrick Wilson.’ As Pat came forward the lads fist-pumped the air, giving him a cheer worthy of their best and fairest.
Patrick and Jasper had wanted pink ribbons put on their jumpers in memory of Mum but instead the lads decided every year they would play one match in all pink to raise money for breast cancer research and in memory of Lizzy. A box full of pink socks and shirts sat stored in the back room. Indi hadn’t mentioned the fundraising day to Troy yet, but she would.
Indi needed another beer by the time they’d handed out all the jumpers. Some of the young lads who were off at boarding school were keen to come back and play for their local Hyden team so Bruce Taylor had organised a dual cab ute for them to drive back in each weekend. The team would be struggling for numbers otherwise, especially if someone got injured. And injuries were always a possibility when bodies were getting older.
‘Well, that went well,’ said Troy.
‘Yeah. I can’t believe the first game is only a few weeks away.’ Indi put the microphone down before she leaned over and whispered, ‘They aren’t even working as a team yet.’
‘I know, but we’ve got potential. James is really shining.’
‘I agree. He’s a natural athlete and is picking up the finer points fast. Definitely one to watch. We just need them all to gel somehow.’
‘Don’t worry. It usually takes a few games for it to all come together,’ he said.
‘You sound so certain. How many clubs have you coached?’ she asked. At twenty-five, he was still young for a coach but he knew what he was doing.
‘Um,’ Troy cleared his throat, his hand resting on his hip. ‘Hyden’s my fourth team.’ His eyes roamed towards the bar, his face set firm.
‘Wow. You move around a bit.’
Now his powerful gaze locked onto her. ‘Yeah, I’m a traveller. I don’t like staying in one spot more than a year, two at most.’
She didn’t have to be a psychologist to know this was a warning. But his attitude just made her want to try harder.
‘So you don’t want to settle down? What about back home?’
He winced, then tried to hide it. Maybe his home life hadn’t been so great. Indi realised she knew nothing about him and almost regretted bringing it up.
His body tensed and his face set hard like a marble carving. ‘I will always love my home,’ he said warmly. She realised he felt the same way about his home as she did about Hyden. ‘I have awesome memories from back on the farm.’ She caught almost a hint of a smile. ‘And I guess that’s why I love working out in the country, to keep that connection.’
Indi would love to know what he was remembering but sharing was something Troy clearly didn’t do a lot of. Not yet, at least. She hoped to work on him slowly. ‘Oh, you grew up on a farm? Whereabouts?’
‘Geraldton. Not far from the ocean. Not like here. Landlocked.’
‘Ha. Do you surf?’ She smiled when he nodded.
‘Used to, as a kid. Haven’t been back home in years,’ he said before rubbing his hand across his jaw. ‘Well, I need a beer. Catch you later.’ He stepped away to the bar.
Damn! she thought. Just when she’d come so close to having a decent conversation with him.
‘Hey, you gonna stand here by yourself all night?’
Indi turned to Jasper, who had his jersey on over his shirt. ‘Don’t go spilling your beer all over that tonight. I won’t be washing it,’ she warned.
Jasper screwed up his face. ‘Sure ya will, sis. You love me.’
Indi rolled her eyes. ‘God knows why.’
Jasper put his arm around her and led her back to the bar. ‘Get a beer into ya. You look like you could use it,’ he said, leaning over the bar and paying for one.
The cool liquid slid down her throat as she gulped, her head tipped back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Troy over the other side, laughing. Maybe she just wasn’t his type. Or maybe she just had a fight ahead of her.
11
INDI was running late again. The story of her life. The weekend CBH train had been delayed by half an hour. Working for CBH she’d learnt quickly that things don’t always run to schedule. By the time they finished loading it, she should have already been at the oval for their first match – and she was yet to go and pick up old Trevor. She’d promised to bring him to the game. The poor guy had been looking forward to it for the last six weeks. He’d dusted off his Saints scarf, which had seen better days, and had it ready by the door. He’d quizzed her on all the players this season, and was keen to see for himself if James was as good as Indi reckoned.
Flooring her ute off down the road, sitting as close to the speed limit as possible, she headed straight for Trevor’s place. She ran to the front door and yelled out, ‘Hey, Trev. You ready to go, mate?’
He appeared dressed sharply in brown slacks and a thin woollen jumper. ‘I’m wearing my lucky scarf so we’re good to go,’ he said, patting it as if it were a pet ferret wrapped around his neck.
Indi had washed the scarf but if her mum had been here she’d have stitched up some of the loose threads.
‘Good. What else do you need?’ Indi was like a shaken bottle of soft drink, bounding all over Trevor’s room as she collected things he might need. A blanket, jacket, water bottle, his walking stick. ‘Glasses! Have you got your glasses, Trev?’
Trevor was standing by the door with a frank look on his face. ‘I’m wearing them, love. Shall we go?’
She forced herself to calm down, managed a trip to the ute to drop off his stuff and then closed up his house. All the while Trevor was still only halfway out to the car, plodding along with his bad hips. She felt like an energetic puppy trying to round up the oldest ram in the paddock. Poor Trevor. It wasn’t his fault she was late. She took some deep calming breaths and helped Trevor into her ute.
‘Sorry, she’s a bit dusty. I ran out of time to give her a spruce up.’ Indi belted the seat as plumes of dust rose and stray grains rolled to the floor.
‘I’m sure I can handle it. I lived in much worse when I was a lad travelling on the back of a truck between shearing sheds.’ Trevor gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Us old folks can handle the hard stuff, not like you young whippersnappers. Oh, it’s too hot. Turn on the air-con. If the power died tomorrow, only us oldies would survive.’
‘You’re probably right, Trev,’ she said with a laugh. Since spending time with Trevor, Indi had realised just how important the older generation was in a community, and in life. So much wisdom. Sure, Trevor could be vague at times or even get upset at the weirdest things, but he still had so much to give; he’d already given her so much without realising it.
‘Are they going to win today?’ he asked as Indi sped through the back streets.
She laughed. ‘What do you think, Trev? I think they’ll be lucky to keep their pants on.’
The juniors game was still playing. There was no reserves team – hadn’t had one for years.
Helping Trevor from the ute, she held
out one arm for him and slung her kit bag over the other.
It wasn’t a big crowd. A few of the Hyden diehards were there, and a good crowd for the away team, Southern Cross. Indi saw Jenny talking with Mary from the local IGA. They were both dressed in jeans and pretty tops. Beside them she noticed Kingy in his tattered trackpants and shearing singlet. He didn’t have his dogs with him but she was sure there would be a bottle in that brown paper bag he was gripping. Indi felt sorry for him. Kingy wouldn’t know what standing straight meant – he was leaning so far forward that Indi thought he might topple. He’d been this way for years. It was Indi’s mum who’d pointed out the Colin of old. In the clubhouse was a photo of an old Saints Premiership team from before Indi was born. Kingy, or Colin Bradshaw as he was then, sat in the front row. A handsome young lad. Indi didn’t know how or why he’d become the ‘Kingy’ of today, but it was difficult to reconcile the two men. He never missed a game, though – he probably had nothing better to do, Indi realised.
‘Hi Jen, Mary. Can you guys help Trevor get settled? I’ve still gotta get changed.’
‘No worries, Indi. How are you, Trevor? Got your lucky scarf on. I hope it helps,’ said Mary.
Jenny gestured to the clubhouse. ‘The team’s already in there, Indi. There’s only ten minutes left of this game,’ she said. ‘If that.’
‘Bugger.’ She touched Trevor’s arm. ‘I’d better go, mate. I’ll see you after the game.’
‘Go on, get. I’m fine,’ he said with cheeky smile. He’d have been a devilish young man in his day.
‘Behave,’ she warned before heading around the back of the club to the ladies change rooms. She ripped off her fluoros and changed into her shorts, team shirt and running shoes. She normally braided her hair back but it’d have to stay in a ponytail today. Stuffing her dirty clothes into her bag, she headed back outside, threw the bag onto her ute and made for the team change room.
She walked straight in. ‘I’m here, I’m here. Who needs me?’
One of the Kiwis spun around, yanking up his shorts, while the Pommie guy, called Pom, covered his bits and went bright pink. The new blokes hadn’t been expecting her but the others thought nothing of it. After a few late night drinks they all seemed keen to take their clothes off. Indi always assumed it was some male team-bonding thing. In the change rooms they seemed to take delight in being naked around her too, trying to make her uncomfortable as she went about strapping up their bodies or massaging tight muscles. She’d seen it all before.
‘My shoulder needs strapping,’ said Louie.
‘My groin does too,’ said Huey, with a chuckle.
That wasn’t even worth an eye roll. Indi opened her kit and began to strap up Louie’s bad shoulder. She’d nearly finished when Troy walked in.
‘Good to see you made it. Was starting to think I’d have to strap them myself.’ He was dressed up today, jeans and his black Saints jacket. She could smell his aftershave, so much better than the litres of deodorant the players had drenched themselves in.
Indi wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic, so she moved on to strap Jasper’s ankle that he’d twisted at training.
‘Is Dad coming down to watch?’ she asked her brother.
‘Not sure. He said he had a few things to do,’ Jasper said with a shrug.
‘Ah that’s crap, Jasp, and you know it. You should have just told him he had to come.’ Indi finished his ankle and looked up.
‘Yeah, I know. I worry about him too. But he doesn’t listen to me. I can’t get him to do anything.’
‘You’re just lazy,’ Indi said, but she couldn’t hold that against Jasper. He was a peacemaker and not good at confrontation. Indi hadn’t been either but giving up her studies to come home and take care of her mum and the family had changed her. Death had changed her.
Jasper was still smiling at her, a tiny pair of dimples just visible on his stubbly cheeks. She wondered why he hadn’t snapped up a girlfriend yet. He found plenty to have fun with but none he wanted to be with long term.
‘All right, gang. First game of the season,’ said Troy, getting their attention. Brick handed Indi some Deep Heat, which she massaged into his sore upper thigh. As her fingers slipped up Brick’s leg, digging into the muscle, she glanced up to Troy. He was still encouraging the guys but he was watching where her fingers were headed. When he caught her studying his gaze, he turned away. Indi smiled, while Brick sat there with his arms crossed, oblivious, his attention entirely on Troy. Indi hoped Troy wouldn’t think of her as a club bunny, hopping from one bloke to the next. Unlike some girls, she came for the footy, not the boys. Mind you, she wasn’t totally blind to a good set of muscled abs, like the ones James had.
‘Thanks, Willo,’ murmured Brick, as she finished up on his leg.
She massaged two more blokes and then washed her hands. ‘Go get’em, Pat.’ Indi slapped her brother on the back as the team ran out onto the oval. A few more locals had turned up to watch. Maybe they were expecting a miracle first-game win, or maybe there was nothing else to do today. Besides, it could be quite entertaining, like a Three Stooges film.
Indi followed Troy out behind the boys. They had Taylor’s young boy helping them out as a runner today too.
It was a nice warm day for the end of April, the fresh-cut grass of the oval filling the air with memories of the summer months. Indi took her position beside Troy, waiting for his commands, eager to please. She sucked air in deeply, her body tingling as her nerves set her heart racing. She lived for this feeling. Her game-day grin was plastered on her face.
As the ball bounced down, the first game of the season was on. There was a lot of grunting, shouting and Indi could feel the ground under her feet tremble as bodies crashed and fell. Skin slapped against skin, the thud of the leather ball on boots and the pounding of feet echoed around the field.
‘No one’s had a heart attack yet. It’s a promising start,’ said Indi.
Troy flinched. ‘Early days yet, early days,’ replied Troy.
The first three goals were kicked by Southern Cross. Patrick, Jasper, Spud, Brick and James were trying hard to hold the team together and were making some great plays but just didn’t have enough backup to keep moving forward with the ball.
Their break came when Spud threw himself at the opposition, spoiling a kick, the ball thunking into his stomach. Wasting no time, Jasper scooped up the ball and ran to the goals – one bounce and a kick straight through the middle. The Saints were on the board. There were fist pumps and whoops of joy. ‘Who put money on Jasper for the first goal of the season?’ she shouted across to Troy.
‘Not me. I went with Pat,’ he replied without turning his head.
The Saints played on with renewed enthusiasm but it was short lived: Southern Cross responded with another four goals and a behind.
‘Indi, go and switch Huey and Jaffa around. Huey may do better in the back pocket,’ said Troy, his hand running through his hair.
With a nod she headed straight for Huey, dodging players and trying not to get in the way, then jogged back to Troy’s side. ‘I wish I was out there. We need more pace up front. Having tits can be the pits,’ she said seriously.
She heard a rumble beside her. Troy’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter. Indi raised her eyebrows at him. Was he laughing at her? Had she managed to get some real emotion from him, without even trying? The look on his face and the sound of his laugh sent adrenaline straight to her heart. The flush of delight ran down to the tips of her toes.
‘God, sorry. You were just so bloody serious when you said that.’ Troy squeezed his lips shut, trying to stifle his laughter. His eyes involuntarily went to her chest. When she caught his gaze he held up his hands and started laughing again. ‘Sorry, automatic reaction,’ he said chuckling again. ‘Oh, I think this game is sending me mad.’
Indi smiled and shook her head. It was almost a moment between them, as though he’d accepted her as a real friend.
Troy
clapped his hands together, as if to break the connection between them. ‘Right, five minutes to go till half time. What the hell am I going to tell them?’
The siren sounded and they walked out to their huddled players. Half of the team lay on the ground, drink bottles in hand, while others leaned over catching their breath. Only Patrick, Jasper, Brick and Limp remained upright.
‘Right, Killer and Kiwi, you guys change positions. Jaffa and Lucky, man up.’ Troy swung around to her brother. ‘Patrick, I need you to take out number twelve from Southern Cross – he’s monopolising the ball. Stick on him.’
It was hard not to be in awe of Troy when he spoke to the team, and she could see she wasn’t the only one admiring him.
Regardless of Troy’s rousing speech, the boys ended up losing by ten goals. Given the club’s recent history, that was pretty good.
Indi wasn’t going to hang around – she had Trevor to take home and she was dying for a hot shower. Half the boys went home, complaining of sore bodies, while the others stayed to drown their aches and pains at the clubhouse bar.
Indi walked past Troy, who stood chatting about the game with Phil.
‘Are you off?’ Phil asked her.
Indi turned to him and nodded.
‘Indi, are you still okay to take Auskick?’ Phil asked. ‘We’ll be caught up in the city next week. Could you coach again?’
‘Sure, and if I can’t, I’ll get Jasper to help out. The kids love him,’ she said.
‘Awesome, thanks. But Indi, you know the kids love you the best,’ said Phil with a wink before heading off.
‘You take Auskick?’ asked Troy. He was looking at her strangely. She thought he might actually be impressed.
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