But the smile left her face as, once more, she gained on the car and caravan and, yet again, just as she got close enough to overtake, they sped away.
She muttered some choice words under her breath. Her father would have said worse. These damn holidaymakers were playing cat and mouse.
Angela flicked off the cruise control and gained on them just as they were reaching the next rise. With a long, clear stretch in front she pulled out, working the gears and using the advantage of the weight behind her to roar past the car and caravan and leave them behind.
Once she felt she’d put enough distance between them, she eased back on the pedal and switched the cruise control back on. They rolled on into the murky late afternoon light as the clouds began to gather. She kept her eye on her mirrors every time she reached a summit, but the road remained empty behind her. Big Red was travelling well. Angela hummed along to the music, feeling the confidence rise within her.
Claudia moaned.
Angela glanced over. ‘What’s the matter?’
The little girl’s eyes were wide and her face was white. ‘I hurt.’
‘Where do you hurt?’
Claudia patted her chest. ‘Here.’
What could cause her pain there? Angela thought back over everything Claudia had done that day. She hadn’t had a fall … The seatbelt wasn’t too tight …
The little girl began to moan louder.
Angela peered into the gloom. They’d passed a parking bay sign recently, but she couldn’t remember how far back.
‘Hurts,’ Claudia moaned. Her face was fixed in a grimace and she was pulling her knees up to her chest.
‘Hang on, pumpkin, I’ll stop the truck.’
As Angela stepped back through the gears the parking bay came into view. It was only a small clearing with a rubbish bin but there was room enough to get the rig in and off the road.
The first drops of rain splashed across Angela’s face as she jumped from the cab and ran around to Claudia’s side. She threw open the door and stepped up to undo the seatbelt just as her daughter let out a big groan. The comforting words Angela had been about to offer died in her throat as a warm spray of vomit hit her chest and ran down her t-shirt.
Claudia began to cry and gasp for air. Angela clamped her own mouth shut and tried not to inhale as the pungent smell wafted around her and the warmth soaked into her clothes. She lifted Claudia down and held her while she continued to bring up a bright pink mix of everything she’d recently eaten.
Eventually the little girl stopped heaving and began to sob pathetically. Angela scooped her up and perched her on the step of the truck, trying to provide some shelter from the strengthening rain.
‘I don’t like that yucky stuff,’ Claudia mumbled between sobs.
Angela couldn’t remember the last time her daughter had vomited – she’d always been a very healthy child. She wiped her mouth with a tissue.
‘Did Jenny give you something else to eat at the roadhouse?’
‘Chips.’ Claudia began to sob again. ‘I don’t like chips anymore.’
The colourful pool of vomit on the ground was now being dispersed by the rain. Claudia had eaten a lot of things today, but nothing pink.
‘Did she give you some lollies? Something pink or red?’
Claudia pushed her face harder against Angela’s shoulder.
‘Careful, Claud.’ The little girl’s hair, which was miraculously vomit-free, was now coming very close to the cooling patch on Angela’s chest. ‘Look at me. I’m not cross with you, I just need to know what you ate that was pink.’
Slowly Claudia turned her big sad eyes to her mother. ‘Grandpa’s berries.’
Of course. Angela’s dad always had red jubes in his truck, and he’d given them a packet before they left. But they ate those yesterday.
‘I don’t think …’ Angela looked at the worry on her daughter’s face and she began to comprehend. ‘Did you have another packet?’
Claudia nodded and held up two stubby fingers.
‘Two packets. And you’ve eaten them all?’
Claudia nodded again.
Angela didn’t know whether to be relieved that it was just overeating that had made Claudia sick or cross with her for being so sneaky. But the rain didn’t give her time to think any more on it. They had to get cleaned up and back on the road.
She got Claudia tucked into the bed in the cabin before the sound of a vehicle slowing made her look up. Lights illuminated the gloom at the back of her load as the car she’d passed towing the caravan pulled into the parking bay. The idiot driver had their headlights on high beam so she couldn’t even look at the vehicle, let alone see who was inside.
She slammed the passenger door and raced through the rain to the driver’s side. Once in her seat she clicked the locks, released the brakes and urged the idling truck forward. No doubt it was just a coincidence that the driver pulled into this parking bay – there weren’t that many places to stop along this stretch and driving conditions had deteriorated. But it was an isolated place and she didn’t want to share it with whoever was towing that van.
Back on the road, Angela checked her mirrors, but no one followed. She wrinkled her nose. Even after a wipe down and a clean t-shirt, the faint smell of vomit still permeated the cabin. She glanced over her shoulder at the shape of her daughter tucked into the bed in the bunk behind.
With time to herself again, Angela’s niggling doubts about the job returned. The driver with the caravan had unnerved her. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe Janice had been right. It was one thing to take off and try something new, but was it the best thing for Claudia?
In front, Big Red’s headlights pierced the darkness and highlighted the rain slicing towards them. They were going to reach Munirilla very late. If it took too much longer, Angela would be over her logbook hours, which meant driving illegally, or stopping for the night out on the road somewhere. She focused her eyes ahead. Neither was an option.
Chapter 11
Coop made a dash for the house. The rain had swept in on a strong wind and was now falling heavily. His dusty clothes were fast turning to mud, along with the ground beneath him.
Under the cover of the verandah, he stopped to watch the rain pounding down and smiled at the quickly forming puddles. It was good, steady rain, and didn’t look like it would stop for a while. A small ripple of optimism rose in his chest. Not that one shower ended a drought, but it certainly brought hope. Which was something farmers needed as much as they needed the rain itself.
Coop stood there and watched the downpour. At his feet, Rusty dropped his head to his paws, while above him, water flowed over the edge of the verandah, creating a curtain of water. The gutter must be blocked.
Even though it was wet, the air was still warm and thick. It reminded him of a night, many years ago, on a wide Queensland verandah, where he’d watched his mother being danced around by her new man as the rain streamed from the roof. Jeff’s property had been in drought for years, but the day after Coop and his mother moved there, the heavens opened and the water flowed. Jeff called Coop’s mother his lucky charm.
Coop smiled at the memory before quickly pushing it to the back of his mind, where he tried to keep that part of his life locked away. It was amazing how something as simple as water pouring off a roof could take him back in an instant. At least they’d been happy that night – there were so many times when they hadn’t been.
He straightened up, took a last look at the rain and went inside. It was a shame the new tank hadn’t arrived yet. By the look of the darkening sky, quite a bit more rain would fall.
In the kitchen, he took a container from the fridge. Another casserole Alice had prepared and left in the freezer for him. The rain was getting steadily heavier, and by the time he’d set the microwave going, Coop could hardly hear its motor for the loud drumming on the roof. He wondered if the rain was widespread and if it would reach the city. Hearing it on her roof might lift Alice’s spirits
.
With the supply of fresh groceries she’d left him getting low, Coop decided he’d drive into town in the morning and check the depot while he was there. Maybe the part for the seeder had arrived, possibly even the long-awaited tank as well. Ken had been working hard to keep the supplies coming into the district, and to find transport for more than stock.
He glanced across at the phone, an old wall variety mounted by the door that led into the lounge. He’d had a couple of progress calls from Alice’s cousin, Mary, but there was no reason he couldn’t just ring Alice himself. Mary had been expecting to take her home in the last day or so.
He pulled his notebook from his shirt pocket and dialled Mary’s number. She sounded pleased he’d rung, but Alice was still in the hospital. Her recovery was going slowly, she told him. Mary gave him the ward number and encouraged him to ring, but she also warned him that Alice might not make much sense.
Coop studied the hospital number for a few minutes before picking up the phone again. A nurse answered and said she’d put him through. Several more minutes passed until finally he heard a crackling noise, then a voice, barely audible, that sounded nothing like Alice.
‘Hello?’ said the voice.
‘Hello Alice. It’s Coop.’
‘Coop?’
He pressed the phone closer and put a hand up to cover his free ear. ‘How are you, Alice?’
‘Coop?’
‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘Where are you?’
‘On the farm.’
‘Not here? You said you’d come and see me.’
Coop hated to hear the feeble tone in her voice. For the second time tonight he was reminded of his mother, but on this occasion, of the not-so-happy times. He was beginning to regret the call. ‘I’m at Munirilla, on the farm. Looking after the place for you.’
‘Munirilla …’
Coop pushed the phone firmly to his ear. ‘Alice, it’s raining.’
‘Raining?’
‘Yes. Listen.’ He lifted the handset to the roof as far as the cord would allow, then pulled it back to his ear. ‘Can you hear it?’
‘Rain?’
‘Yes. It’s raining, just like you said it would. It’s absolutely bucketing down.’
‘I knew it would rain. Long overdue. Time for the dust to settle again.’
‘I’ve got the seeder nearly ready to go. The Dohne ram is content in the paddock with the next mob of ewes – I don’t think there’ll be any problem getting a second serving from him. I’ve been fixing the fence over near Barry’s place, but the ewes in there are all okay. I’ll shift them to the paddock closer to the house soon. It’s nearly time for them to drop their lambs.’ Coop paused. ‘Alice?’
There was a big sigh, then a clunk, followed by silence on the line. He put the phone back in its cradle and stood there a moment. Alice hadn’t sounded herself at all.
Coop threw open the microwave and took out his meal. Another voice crept into his mind, a slurring, hesitant, plaintive voice, a voice from the past that had the power to make his skin crawl, even now. He forced himself to block out his mother’s drunken words – how easily they still came back to haunt him. He wondered for a brief moment where she was. A part of him still yearned for the fun-loving woman his mother could be. He kept a tiny memory of her in a corner of his brain, a small, happy recollection of the rare times when her sobriety and his wellbeing had been able to co-exist. No doubt she was still somewhere in Queensland. Had she managed to clean herself up again?
Then yet another voice, this one firm but kind, blocked his thoughts. He’d done all he could. Tough love meant he’d had to walk away or be doomed to being sucked down the sad, one-way drain with her. But she was his mother, and he could never truly forget her or entirely stop loving her, no matter what she did.
He took a bite of his meal and tried to focus on Alice. She’d been more of a mother to him in the last two years than his own had ever been. He hated the thought of the strong woman he’d come to know losing her independence like this.
Mary had reassured him the medical staff thought Alice would improve with time. It was just how much time that bothered Coop.
He felt his chest tighten and he shifted his feet back and forth under the table. Alice had always known he couldn’t stay forever. For the first time since she told him about her condition, he worried that she might never actually return to the farm.
Chapter 12
Angela heard them coming across the muddy yard, two men chatting comfortably like old mates. The rain had stopped at last and the early morning air was crisp and still. After a bit of sleep, she was feeling slightly better than she had last night.
By the time she and Claudia had reached Munirilla it was dark and wet. Angela had managed to find the depot and park the truck under a sign she could barely read – something ‘Transport’. But all she’d had the strength to do then was send her father a text to say they’d made it and crawl into the bunk beside Claudia.
Now, as she leaned against the side of the truck, sipping a fresh cup of tea and eating one of Jenny’s day-old sandwiches, listening to the approach of her first contacts in Munirilla, her confidence waned once again.
‘It’s a decent rig, Jimbo,’ one of the voices said.
‘Yeah Ronnie. At last we’ve got ourselves back on the map.’
‘Thanks to Ken.’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Good load on board too. Do you reckon he’s brought everything?’
‘Don’t think so. There were a lot of tanks on order, and a couple of small sheds. Where do you reckon the driver is? Still sleeping?’
‘Dreaming with the fairies, more like. What kind of a guy is called Angel anyway?’
‘Could be an Italian, you know, as in “Angelo”.’
Angela straightened up as the two men, one tall and one short, came round the front of the truck.
‘Well, well, well,’ the short one said. ‘This Angel fellow’s one lucky son of a gun. He’s brought the missus with him.’
The reason behind her father’s vagueness now hit Angela with a thud. The rogue didn’t tell anyone he was sending a female truckie. Maybe so they didn’t have the chance to object, maybe to give her the opportunity to create an impression without being prejudged. Whatever his motive, it didn’t matter now. She was here, she was the driver, she was the manager of this depot, and there was a lot of work to be done. Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her short frame and stepped forward.
‘I’m Angela,’ she said, looking from one to the other. She smiled. ‘Some people call me Angel.’
The two men looked at each other, then back at Angela. The taller guy recovered first and shook her hand. ‘Jim,’ he said with a nod of his head. ‘Some people call me Jimbo.’
The short one swore softly under his breath. Angela turned to him.
‘You must be Ronnie. Mind your language, okay.’ She jerked a finger towards the cabin. ‘I’ve got a four-year-old on board.’
‘Well, I’ll be …’ Ronnie mumbled as he shook her hand.
Jim laughed. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. Welcome Angela. Or maybe we’ll stick with Angel, ‘cause that’s what you’ll be around here after delivering this lot.’ He slapped the side of the truck.
Ken Harris was out of town but he’d sent Jim and Ronnie to help. They used their battered forklift and the one Angela had brought, and unloaded while she did the paperwork in the office. Claudia had woken up in a much better mood and, being used to truck yards, she kept within the confines of the office and its small verandah.
News of Angela’s arrival travelled fast. The next few hours were so busy she didn’t have time to worry about the stunned looks and surprised silences from each new client. She received a short text from her father who was happy they’d arrived safely. In the back of her mind she stored some notes for the little conversation she’d have with him later, but for now she had a steady flow of vehicles coming into the yard, the
ir owners hoping their goods were part of Angela’s cargo. She’d prepared herself for some difficult customers, but even if their items weren’t part of the load, no one complained. Last night’s rain was the talk of the day, and the way they were speaking, it was as if Angela had transported that into town as well.
Claudia proved to be a sweetener too. She smiled and chatted to everyone, and alternated between exploring the tiny office, playing with her toys, and watching the comings and goings from a broken seat on the verandah.
Eventually, the traffic to Angela’s door stopped and so did the forklifts. Jim stuck his head in the office.
‘The rest of the load is for the IGA. We’re going to get some lunch.’
Angela looked up from the pile of paper she was sorting on the gritty desk. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the half a sandwich she’d started the day with.
Claudia stood beside her. ‘I’m hungry, Mummy,’ she said in a little voice.
Angela stood up and scooped her daughter onto her hip. ‘You haven’t eaten anything today, you poor pumpkin.’
‘Do you want a lift?’ Jim offered.
‘We don’t need much. Is there a deli or a supermarket nearby?’
‘Depends what you call “nearby”,’ he chuckled. ‘The whole town is in walking distance if you have the time.’
Behind her, the phone rang. Angela turned to look at the old handset. It was coated with grime; she hadn’t even thought it worked. Claudia wriggled from her arms as she picked up the receiver. She hesitated, but a sharp, enquiring ‘hello’ boomed in her ear, forcing her to answer.
‘Ranger Transport, how can I help you?’
There was a brief pause before a man responded, although all she caught was ‘Frank’ and ‘IGA’. Claudia was tugging at her arm.
‘Mummy, I’m hungry.’
Angela glanced down at her daughter, putting one arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close while she listened to Frank. Half the truck was loaded with supplies for his supermarket. It would take the rest of today and some of tomorrow to unload it. Claudia slipped out of her hold again and Angela dug the fingers of her free hand into the tender muscles at the back of her neck. Every part of her was aching.
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