The day before, she’d been taking photos when she’d startled five kangaroos sleeping in the shade. She’d watched as they’d sat up and looked at her, their ears and noses twitching as they tried to work out if she was an enemy or not.
Quietly, she’d sat down on the grass and aimed her camera at them. They decided, in time, that she wasn’t a threat and laid back down again, using their paws to swipe at their faces when the flies annoyed them.
Her zoom lens made for beautiful close-ups. In fact, one was so clear and close, you could see flies clustering in the corners of a roo’s eyes. These photos could be framed for sale.
‘Eliza! Where are you? You’re not in my car, listening to me, that’s for sure!’
Eliza reined in her thoughts and focused on Reen.
‘Sorry. I was just working out what I’m going to do with my photos,’ she answered. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Look at that.’ Reen had slowed down and was looking out the window intently, pointing to a caravan parked on the side of the road. Cardboard boxes and foam eskies were piled up next to the wheels, and two chairs and a gas stove were set up underneath a nearby tree.
‘What are they doing?’
‘Probably having a cuppa and repacking the caravan. But it’s weird. I don’t know any caravaners who travel with more than they need. Those boxes wouldn’t fit into any caravan cupboards or under the bed.’
‘Did you want to stop?’ asked Eliza. ‘To make sure they’re okay?’
Reen hesitated. ‘No,’ she finally answered. ‘If they wanted help, they would have waved us down.’
Eliza noticed her friend kept her eyes firmly on the rear-vision mirror until the couple and their caravan were out of sight.
She had left Reen to follow up on some sponsors for the cook-off before her doctor’s appointment. Eliza was going to make the most of her time alone to find a pawn shop.
A bell tinkled above her head as she walked into a dingy shop in the Port Augusta mall. Looking around, she saw all types of items that people had sold to make ends meet. She wondered briefly what stories were behind them—was the diamond engagement ring on display in the middle of the jewellery from a broken engagement? Or were the collectable coins sold because a woman couldn’t buy food for her children? Surely there would be happy stories too—maybe the whitegoods and tools down the back had been sold due to an upgrade.
Eliza forced her mind back to the matter at hand.
Behind the counter sat a man whose glasses had slid down his nose. He was reading a magazine and had looked up briefly as she’d walked in.
‘Can I help you at all?’ he asked.
Eliza tried to fight the nervous feeling in her stomach. If she wanted to live, she needed to sell this watch.
‘Um, yeah.’ She walked over to the counter and placed the pocket watch in front of the man. ‘I’d like to sell this, please.’
Without a word, the man picked it up and turned it over, looking at it carefully. He picked up a loupe and inspected it even more closely.
‘Nice piece you’ve got here,’ he finally said as he put it down and looked up at her. ‘Where did you get it from?’
Eliza froze, then quickly reached for it. ‘It was my grandfather’s.’
‘Any reason you want to sell it?’
Giving a sharp laugh, Eliza said, ‘Oh, the same reason anyone sells anything—I need the money.’
‘Family heirloom?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Hmm. I can give you three thousand.’ The man held his hand out for the watch again, but Eliza continued to hold it.
‘I was hoping for more.’
‘You might have been, lady, but you won’t get it from me. You can try in Adelaide or somewhere, but that’s my offer.’
‘Three thousand five hundred?’ Eliza asked hopefully.
‘Three thousand two hundred.’
‘Please?’
‘I’m not here to give you charity. Three thousand, two hundred, and that’s my offer.’
‘I’ll take it.’
‘Fill this in, please.’ He pushed over a form and Eliza picked up a pen. Looking down, she paused, wondering what name to give.
‘I need to see some ID too.’
That clinched it. She pulled out her old driver’s licence, then filled in the details for Ashleigh Alberto, not Eliza Norwood.
The man looked at the picture on the licence, then back up at her, then down again.
‘I’ve lost a bit of weight,’ she blabbed.
‘Dyed your hair too,’ he commented and put her licence on the photocopier before Eliza could stop him.
When she walked out of the shop, her heart was beating fast. She could only hope that Dominic hadn’t reported the pocket watch missing.
Eliza pushed a trolley with a dodgy wheel up and down the aisles of a Port Augusta supermarket, adding the items on Reen’s list to it. Her friend had texted to say she was still waiting at the doctor’s, so Eliza had offered to do the shopping.
Her heart was still beating way too fast. Maybe she should change her hair colour again? Or do something really radical and get contact lenses that change the colour of her eyes? God, what to do? What if Dominic worked out where she was and came looking for her?
Her mind whirled with possibilities as she packed the shopping in the car and found a public toilet. She looked at herself in the mirror and got out her old driver’s licence.
Eliza had almost forgotten what she’d looked like before she left Jindabyne. Now she could see that her disguise wasn’t as complete as she’d thought. And her hair was shaggy, as she’d been trimming it with nail scissors—maybe it was time to get a properly styled cut.
Once she’d washed her hands, she pulled the door open to leave and almost ran into a woman standing outside.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Eliza said. ‘Can you tell me if there’s a hairdresser where I won’t need an appointment?’
‘Reen! Over here!’ Eliza called out to her friend, who was walking across the road.
She saw Reen look over at her and glance away, before doing a double-take. ‘Eliza? Good God, what’ve you done to yourself? I didn’t recognise you!’ She made a beeline to her.
‘Just thought I’d have a bit of a change,’ Eliza said and spun around, showing off her new hairstyle: black, with purple streaks through it. ‘I love it! Hasn’t it given me a whole new look?’
‘You can say that again.’ Reen took hold of Eliza’s hand and spun her around again. ‘Wow,’ she finally said. ‘Just wow.’
‘I’ve done the shopping and it’s all packed in the car. How did you get on with the doctor? Did you get all your medication organised?’
‘Oh, fine. No problems there. Just had to wait an age at the doctor’s, and then he wanted to do X-rays, so there was another wait at the hospital but, then again, that’s not new either.’ Reen gave a dismissive wave.
‘I’m starving. Have we got time to get something to eat or do you need to get going?’
‘Let’s get takeaway and head off. I don’t want to be dodging roos on the way home.’
‘Sure thing. Let’s go, then. I’ll bring the car to you, so you don’t have to walk.’ She bounced off down the street, enjoying the feel of her new hair bouncing on her shoulders.
Ten minutes later, they were on their way back to Blinman.
Reen pointed to the ranges they were following before starting through Horrocks Pass. ‘When I was a kid, my mum used to tell me that part of the range was a sleeping elephant.’
Eliza looked at where she was pointing and laughed, before turning back to the road. ‘Oh yeah, I can see that! And she looks like she’s got a baby sleeping next to her.’
‘Yeah, she does.’ Reen turned to Eliza, suddenly serious. ‘That’s a pretty huge change you’ve just made, Eliza. I’m convinced you’re not doing anything illegal, but I’m pretty sure you’re running from someone. Someone you’re really frightened of. I’ve seen the way you reac
t when anyone comes into the shop and calls out when you hadn’t realised they were there. I’ve seen the way you jump when someone puts a hand on your shoulder. I’ve seen the way certain vehicles make you freeze.
‘I’m not sure of your story and if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I want to help you. I want to make sure you’re okay. Because, sweetheart, if I’m close to the truth in any of this, you’ve got to know I’ll do everything to make things better.’
Eliza drew in a quick breath, wrestling with her emotions. She wanted to tell someone. To not have to cope with the fear and lies by herself. But could she trust Reen enough to tell her everything? How much would it change things between them?
She was aware that, after today, she might need people around who had her back.
Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth and began to talk.
Chapter 21
‘Come on, I’ve got somewhere to take you,’ Jacob said as he rushed through the front door and grabbed hold of Eliza’s hand.
‘What?’ She reared back and tried to release herself from his grip. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘It’s a surprise. Can you spare her for a couple of hours, Reen? Wait—crap, what have you done to your hair?’
Reen stuck her head through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen and shop. ‘Sure, but only if you bring her back in one piece. Looks good, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, it’s different, that’s for sure.’ Jacob threw an uncertain glance Eliza’s way. ‘Reckon you might scare the sheep with that colour.’
Self-consciously, Eliza reached up and patted her new hairstyle, which she’d pulled back into a ponytail. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she said.
‘I don’t see that I have a choice! Anyway, are you coming or not? Pack yourself one of Gillian’s famous Cornish pasties and follow me.’
Eliza laughed. It was easy to get caught up in Jacob’s enthusiasm. ‘Just let me grab my camera.’
When she was settled in his ute, she asked where they were going.
‘I’ve got some sheep work happening at Manalinga and I thought you might like to see it. And there are a couple of spots I want to take you to that we might be able to use for the selfie trail.’
‘Oh, cool. I checked out one of the spots when I was with the girls at the park last week. I walked up the hill at the back of the camping ground, the one that looks out back towards Blinman.’
‘Yeah.’ Jacob drove through a creek a bit too fast and the ute hit the bottom of it hard. Eliza bounced upwards.
‘Omph! Oh!’
‘Sorry. Used to driving this road by myself. I’ve got the steering wheel to hang on to!’ Jacob looked over at her. ‘Did you have the broken spring in that seat go up through your bum?’ he asked with a wicked grin.
‘Something certainly did. Bloody hell!’
‘Anyway, you were saying?’
‘Oh yeah—I took a steel post up to the top and banged it in while I was up there. It’s got a weatherproof photo of a face on it, to indicate it’s part of the trail. They’ll have to have their photos taken with that to prove they’ve been there.’
‘That’s sounds cool. Good job. You’ve really thrown yourself into this, haven’t you?’
‘It’s a good cause. How are you going with the bra ping-pong?’
A disgruntled look crossed Jacob’s face. ‘How can I do anything when you haven’t given me any of your black lacy bras?’
Eliza threw him a look. ‘How do you even know I own black lacy bras?’
‘Don’t all women?’
She snorted. ‘Not this one.’
‘Damn.’ Jacob looked crestfallen. ‘I’ll have to figure out another way to get into your bras, then.’
Widening her eyes, Eliza said: ‘Don’t bother. I’ve sworn off men.’
‘Why?’
‘No reason you need to know.’
‘Well, that’s being told.’
‘I hope you’ve listened,’ she answered, looking out of the window. ‘Oh, look! What’s that? Are they goats?’
Jacob slowed down and glanced in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, there were black and white goats of various ages. Some were sleeping under the bushes next to the road and a few were out grazing on the hills.
‘Can you stop?’ Eliza asked excitedly. ‘I want to take a photo.’
‘They’ll take off,’ Jacob warned, but he came to a stop anyway.
She scrambled to get her camera out of its bag and set up a shot. By the time she had everything organised, the goats had their heads in the air and were moving, confidently, towards the top of the hill.
‘Bugger,’ she muttered, refocusing with the zoom. ‘Nope, missed them.’
‘We might see some up a bit further,’ Jacob said, putting the ute back into gear and driving on.
The road was winding, with one side bordered by the mountains and the other by a sheer drop. Eliza was amazed they didn’t fall off the edge.
Without warning, Jacob pulled off the road and drove on a hidden two-wheel track. A few hundred metres in, there was a windmill and a set of yards, full of sheep, on the bank of a creek. It was all surrounded by green grass and trees, and Eliza thought how wonderful it would be to work in such a gorgeous area.
To the left, there was a shearing shed, and out the front, she counted eight cars. From the road, there would have been no indication this place even existed.
‘We’re crutching,’ Jacob said, as if by way of an introduction.
Without thinking, she threw a sly smile his way. ‘I’m assuming that isn’t something rude.’
A funny smile crossed Jacob’s lips. ‘Are you sure you aren’t flirting with me?’
‘In your dreams.’
He let out a loud sigh. ‘One can but dream.’ Opening the door, he got out and walked towards the yards. Eliza followed.
‘You have to crutch every year to keep their rear ends clean,’ he explained. ‘The wool, when it’s hot and wet, creates perfect conditions for flies to lay their eggs and hatch maggots. They love eating into the flesh of the sheep.’
‘Oh my God, that is totally gross!’ exclaimed Eliza.
‘It’s reality,’ Jacob answered. ‘Although mostly it’s too hot for flies here, it only takes a thunderstorm dumping an inch of rain for the weather to heat up the next day and the green backs are right there.’
‘Green backs?’
‘They’re a type of fly that lays eggs to produce maggots.’
They walked into the shed and Eliza’s fingers itched to take photos.
There were four men, wearing singlets, lined up across the back of the shed, each bent over a sheep. They were holding some type of mechanical tool that was cutting the wool away from the rump.
Jacob took her elbow and moved her closer to the men, then talked over the noise. ‘The blokes use what is called a handpiece and they shave—or “shear” is the right terminology—the wool around the rear end. It helps keep it clean. It doesn’t always take rain to cause problems. Sometimes, when the season is good, the digestive system isn’t quite used to the feed. Things can get a bit, um, green, to say the least. Flies are attracted by the smell, warmth and moisture.’
‘I get what you’re saying,’ Eliza interjected.
Jacob nodded, then indicated a couple of women using what looked like brooms.
‘The paddle sweeps the wool away, then they pick it up and put it into the bale. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Can I take photos?’
‘If you like.’
Eliza set up her camera, thinking only about the humming of the engines and the sounds of the shed. Occasionally, a sheep would bleat, then thump its hind legs on the floor, and a shearer would mutter an expletive. She could feel the vibration of the engine coming up through the floor, making her feet tingle.
She took close-ups and wide-angle lens shots, macro shots of the wool and eyes. She wished she could capture the smell, of lanolin and sweat. Shit and ammonia. It was
a beautiful odour.
As she lined up to take another photo, Jacob walked into the shot, bending down to scoop the wool away. His arm muscles were thrown into definition, and his grin was beautiful. Startled by what she saw, Eliza looked up from the camera screen and saw him gazing at her. Arranging her face into a neutral expression, she indicated she’d finished and he pointed to the door.
Out in the sunlight and fresh air, Eliza watched as a couple of men worked the sheep in the yards, using dogs.
‘What are they doing?’ she asked.
‘Drafting. Pulling the lambs off their mums, so the mums can get crutched. There’s a few straggler lambs that have missed being marked, so these guys will make sure the ones who haven’t been are marked while they’re in the yards this time.’
‘What’s “marked”?’
‘When the lambs have their tails cut off, and tags put in their ears to say who owns them.’
‘Why are you cutting their tails off? Does it hurt?’
The ewes ran up and down the side of the fence, trying to get through to their lambs, while the lambs jumped over each other, baaing loudly.
‘The tail’s another place that can get hot and humid and have shit hang off it. It’s a flytrap too. When we mark, we take off a bit of the skin around the tail, which tightens the area up. The whole reason we do all of this is flies. It hurts the lamb for a moment or two, although they all get some type of pain relief, and then they’re set for life. Bit like if you’ve got a tag of skin on somewhere that rubs, like your shorts line, you go to the doctor to have it taken off.’
‘Right.’ Eliza thought she understood.
The workmen shouted instructions at the dogs. One man was down the end of the race, working what looked like a small gate to divide the sheep from one another. The dogs were forcing the ewes down the race and circling to make sure none got away. To Eliza, it looked like poetry in motion.
‘This is so beautiful,’ she said, taking more photos.
‘Beautiful?’ Jacob looked at her as if she were from another planet. ‘Those buggers aren’t running. See how they’re baulking at the end of the race? It’s making it hard for Jamie, who’s drafting. They’re being pains in the arses.’
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