by Di Morrissey
‘Yeah. In a pretty mediocre field. Get some of that sports drink into you and I’ll see you in twenty minutes on the bus. I want to watch one more race.’
Anna suddenly felt wobbly and lightheaded. She grabbed a bottle of energy drink, pulled on a T-shirt and track pants over her running shorts, picked up her bag and got on the waiting minibus at the rear of the stadium.
‘How’d you go, love?’ asked the driver. ‘No good? Always next time, eh?’
‘Yeah, right.’ Anna leant against the window and closed her eyes in the winter sun.
She must have dozed. As the other athletes jumped onto the bus chattering animatedly she jerked upright in the seat.
‘Listen up,’ called out Craddock. ‘I want to run through the schedule for next week. We need to put in some serious effort.’
‘Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?’ called one of the boys, a lanky hurdler.
‘You wait. We’re all going to have to go up a notch in the countdown to the interstate meet. We need to put in an extra effort, so I’m changing our training schedule, starting next week.’
‘We have exams!’ wailed one of the girls.
The minibus headed through the sleepy Saturday afternoon streets towards South Adelaide while the group of athletes, most of whom were university students, discussed the rescheduling of their training sessions. It would clash with their studies and their social life, but they were prepared to compromise.
‘All right, that seems to suit everyone, then,’ said Craddock, looking at his clipboard. ‘Anna, you can work in with the others as you’re more flexible.’
‘I have to work,’ she answered. She always had to fit in with the students and the coach seemed to assume that her job came second to running. She knew that the athletics club was funded by the university, so the students’ needs took priority, but it annoyed her just the same.
The tall blonde in the seat in front of her turned around. ‘You ran a great race today,’ said Sonja. ‘Have you put in your application to the Track and Field Institute?’ When Anna shook her head, Sonja added, ‘The numbers are pretty tight. Only a few spots left, we heard.’
‘I can’t see the point of applying. Unless there’s a scholarship, I can’t afford to go there fulltime.’
‘But, Anna, you’re so good. You know Craddock boasts about you being a state champion, or even an Olympic contender.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Anna.
‘Anna! He’s always telling the rest of us that we should be more like you and train more. He goes on and on about us not having your dedication and says that we should put in the hours you do,’ said Sonja.
Anna shrugged. Yes, she did a lot of training runs on her own, but it was hard to explain to the others on the team why she did so much more than they did. ‘I’ll see how I go,’ she said.
Sonja lowered her voice. ‘Couldn’t Craddock give you more one-on-one time?’ she asked. ‘I mean, he’s always boasting about you.’
‘I suppose he could, but he has a lot of other runners to think about,’ said Anna. ‘He seems to like the fact I keep training on my own even when I don’t have to and my times are good.’
‘You do more than that, Anna. Your times get better and better. I hate the way that at some meets I do well and then at others I drop back. I wish I was more consistent.’
‘That’s true of everyone and it depends on our state of mind and fitness on the day of the race,’ said Anna as the bus pulled up in the university parking lot. ‘See you next week, I guess.’
‘Take care, Anna.’ Sonja watched Anna sling her bag over her shoulder and walk quickly across the parking lot. It occurred to Sonja that she and her teammates knew little about one of the club’s most promising runners. Where did Anna live? What did she do in her spare time? Did she even have her own transport? All they knew was that she worked as a waitress, which was why the coach probably thought she had flexible hours.
Anna wasn’t a student at South Eastern University. The athletics club, a member of the University Sports Association, opened its doors to athletes of different disciplines who wanted to compete and improve their standards and move up the competitive ranks, even if they were not studying or working at the university. Sonja knew that Craddock had said Anna could be an elite athlete and that her rising star would cast a little glitter on them all.
For Anna, the contradiction in running for the club and running to satisfy a need in herself was causing her more and more disquiet. She’d had several disagreements with her coach, who constantly criticised her race strategy. He called her a bolter and tried to get her to hold back behind the frontrunners before making the final dash to the line.
‘Keep something in reserve! Don’t you have any speed other than walking or flat chat? Be a racehorse, not a greyhound. Use your brain!’ he admonished her.
‘I either win or I don’t,’ she answered him.
‘You won’t win if you don’t learn to strategise. You’re not a sprinter, you’re running eight hundred metres. Pace yourself. You don’t have to be the frontrunner.’
Again and again she tried: ran and attempted to hold back. But she found it impossible. She always seemed to want to run as fast as she could from the moment the starter’s pistol sounded. Race tactics evaded her.
Craddock was impressed with her speed but exasperated. He tried to explain once again how he wanted her to pace herself throughout the race. ‘Too much, too soon. What happens when you’re almost at the finish and someone shoots past? You’ve nothing left in the tank to overtake them.’
Anna irritated him even more by shrugging. ‘That’s me. I don’t know, I can’t change the way I am. Something just seems to happen and I can’t stop myself.’
‘Yeah, right. In the zone, whatever. Don’t give me that new-age shit.’ When he saw her face close up, he softened. ‘Listen, Anna, you’re good. You have a lot of potential, but athletics is as much about your mental preparedness as your physical fitness. If you can’t keep focused and listen to what I have to say, we have to have a rethink. You have to really want this. You’ve been given a few opportunities here, so trust me. If you want to go to the institute, we have to know you’re going to give it your best shot before we can recommend you.’
‘Have I ever not given it my all?’ asked Anna evenly.
The coach hesitated before answering, unsure how to read Anna’s expression. ‘What do your family think? Do they support you in your dream?’
Anna turned away. ‘I do my own thing. I’m twenty and I only live at home because it’s near the uni track and I don’t have to pay rent.’
Craddock spoke more gently. ‘Would it help if I spoke to your parents? Let them know that I think you have potential?’
‘What for? I make my own decisions.’
‘I know that travel to sports meetings and other expenses can add up and funding is sparse and hard to get. What do you want to do, Anna? What makes you happy? How badly do you want to compete in serious competitions?’
‘I like running,’ she said simply.
‘But you need to focus, have a plan. Because if you don’t want to dedicate yourself and see how far you can go, you’re wasting our time. Mine and yours.’
Anna didn’t respond for a moment, then said quietly, ‘I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.’
‘It’s not wasting my time if you take my advice!’ he said. ‘You can’t do this alone, but you have to choose. Either you dedicate yourself to an athletic career, and that includes your mind not just your body, or you consider it something you just do for pleasure, more a hobby than a career. Then you can have time for fun and boyfriends instead. But if you really want to take athletics seriously, you have to be in the right head space.’
‘I know that. I just like to run. But I have to fit running in with my job at the coffee shop. Mum and Dad didn’t mind taking me around to Little Athletics meets when I was young but they don’t see how it could be a career, you know, how I would make mo
ney from it. Maybe I should be doing something for the future, getting a proper job.’ This small speech came out in a rush, expelled as if it had been long held inside her.
Craddock lifted his arms in a mildly helpless gesture. ‘Then it’s up to you to decide. We all come to a fork in the road at some stage of our lives. You’d better do some serious thinking in the next month or so.’
Anna had a lot to think about but no one with whom she could discuss her feelings. What to do with her life? Should she try to pursue a career on the track? Or should she forget that idea and look for something that would make her money? She had fuzzy thoughts but no clear plans. All she knew was that she loved to run. But she needed a job that was flexible enough to allow her time for training. She didn’t earn a lot from her job and what she did earn was quickly absorbed by living expenses and travelling costs. She was worried. If she couldn’t run the way Craddock wanted, was she just wasting her time?
Anna mulled over these thoughts as she waited on tables at the coffee shop where she worked. She picked up a newspaper along with the empty coffee mugs where two backpackers had been sitting and noticed that a couple of position vacant ads had been circled. As she walked to the kitchen, one in particular seemed to jump out at her.
Find Opals in your Spare Time!
Girl or guy wanted to work in Hotel Bar.
Drinks and Food service. Some cleaning.
Accommodation provided. Opal Lake NSW.
Call Mick.
She tore out the small ad with the phone number even though she had no idea where Opal Lake was. It sounded intriguing and suddenly the idea of going to a remote little town where she knew no one and no one knew her, to work in a pub and maybe scratch around for an opal or two, seemed very attractive. So many thoughts crowded in on her. A bit of a break sounded good, and it would give her time to think and decide about her future. She decided to call this Mick.
‘Where’s this place? Seems a bit remote just to go to think,’ said Craddock. ‘How long will you be away?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not making any plans. I’m looking forward to having no pressure and some freedom.’
‘No cranky Craddock, eh?’ He grinned. ‘Listen, Anna, if that’s going to sort you out, then do it, but don’t be away too long. What do your family think?’
‘They think I’m crazy. They just want me to settle down in a steady job.’
‘Is that what you’re going to do?’
‘I have to decide. And once I’ve made up my mind, that’s it. I stick to my decision.’
‘Good. If you do decide to come back, you’ll have to be dedicated and focused, and you’ll have to train like never before. Fair enough?’
‘I appreciate you letting me have this breathing space,’ said Anna meekly. ‘And I’ll let you know my decision as soon as I’ve made it.’
‘Good, because I think you have the makings of a champion. But just do me a favour and keep fit, eat properly and don’t waste yourself on booze or pot or rubbish food. Okay?’
‘Of course. Anyway, I won’t stop running.’
‘I bet this place’ll be bloody hot.’
‘Then I’ll have to get up early to run,’ said Anna. And for the first time in a long time she smiled at the coach.
Craddock shook his head. ‘I’m taking a punt on you, Anna. I’ll be disappointed if you toss me over.’ He patted her shoulder and turned away, but at the door he said, ‘Be prepared to work bloody hard when you get back. Don’t get used to the soft life.’
‘I won’t,’ replied Anna.
It had been a long trip from Adelaide to Broken Hill, but she’d relished the train ride. When she arrived in Broken Hill, she travelled to Opal Lake on Davo’s Best Tours bus. She loved the space and emptiness of the landscape and its colours. It was so much bigger, more expansive, than she’d expected. She was absorbed in the country as Davo’s little bus rattled along the dirt road, and scarcely listened to the spiel he was delivering to the small group of fellow travellers.
Davo glanced over to her. ‘Your first time outback?’
Anna nodded.
‘Can seem a bit overwhelming. Where else are you travelling?’
‘I’m not. I’ve got a job in Opal Lake.’
‘Fair dinkum?’ He gave her an interested stare. ‘Opal mining? Nah, you working in the motel?’
‘The hotel.’
‘Jeez. Mick said he had someone new coming. How come you want to work out here?’ His quick glance ran up and down her figure. ‘You won’t last, love. No offence, but, well, it’s a small place. And it’s your first time outta the city, right?’
‘I’m from Adelaide.’
‘I’m sure that’s a nice place. But, well, you’ll find Opal Lake sorta different. Good little community though. Be careful of some of them blokes out on the diggings. Not a lot of single girls out here.’
‘I’m not looking for romance. Just a job.’ Anna turned away and looked out the window.
‘I wouldn’t say the mining blokes were romantic. Them fellas are all in love with opal. She’s the queen that steals the hearts of men.’
‘That’s very poetic, Davo!’ called the tourist sitting behind him.
The conversation drifted to opals and Anna tuned out. She had no interest in jewellery or gems. She looked at the unfolding landscape and hoped she would get the chance to explore Opal Lake. Davo had said that the actual lake was some distance away from the little town and rarely had water in it, but it sounded intriguing.
She wasn’t expecting much of a township, but she was slightly taken aback by the flat wilderness intersected by two hills which were dotted with a few buildings and partially buried roofs. The place looked as if a tornado had swept over Opal Lake and scooped its contents up, depositing them randomly over the hillsides.
There was one main street. Davo parked his minibus outside the pub and everyone stepped from the van, glad to stretch their legs, and filed inside.
Davo swung Anna’s bag from the roof rack and deposited it on the ground beside her. ‘There you go. Hope you settle in all right. I’m over here pretty regular like, so if you want to, you know, get outta Dodge, give me a hoy.’
‘Thanks,’ said Anna, non-committally.
Mick had insisted on an eight-week trial period, but he’d sounded resigned, as though he knew she’d move on before then. But Anna wasn’t going to let Davo know that she might not stay. His familiarity with her had started to irritate her and she hoped that not everyone in this small community would want to know her business. The remoteness of this place had appealed to Anna. She had it in her head that the people who lived here, in the middle of nowhere, and worked down holes in the ground would be self-sufficient, even loners and eccentrics, and pay no attention to her at all. She picked up her bag and headed into the pub.
Two locals were on barstools with schooners of beer in front of them.
‘Is the manager here?’ asked Anna.
‘Out the back.’
‘Will I wait?’ She put down her bag.
‘Better go and get him, love. He’s doing his opals.’
Seeing her puzzled expression, the other man added, ‘He’s rubbing them back, to see what he’s got.’
Suddenly Davo was right behind her, calling out loudly, ‘Hey, Mick, here’s yer new recruit!’
Immediately interested faces turned to look at her and Anna felt herself blushing.
A red-haired man in his forties came to the bar, wiping his hands on a muddy tea towel that was tucked into his waistband. ‘Well, good on you, Anna. I’m Mick.’
Anna smiled. ‘You look surprised. Didn’t you think I’d get here?’
Mick pumped her hand. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s chickened out. Pleased to meet you. Come on and I’ll show you your room. Simple. Basic. Hope it suits. It’s not very girly.’
‘I’m not really the girly type.’ Anna glanced at the old framed photographs lining the walls: people, mines and equipment, ramshackle building
s and faded colour prints of opals that seemed to tell the story of the place.
‘Does everybody here dig for opals?’ she asked.
‘Pretty much. Those that stay. There’ve been some decent finds out here over the years. But it’s kept quiet so as not to start a rush. You know how it is.’
‘No. I don’t know anything about opals.’
Mick walked down the hallway to a door and pushed it open. ‘Is that right? I thought the opal thing might have been what attracted you. What’s your interest, then?’
‘This sounded an interesting place. I like being on my own. I read a lot,’ she added, seeing his faintly puzzled expression.
‘That’s good. Not much in the way of entertainment out here. Sorry, but the bathroom’s down the hall.’
Anna glanced at the spartan room, which at least looked clean. There were French doors with frosted glass and she pushed them open to find an old cane table and chair on a small wooden deck that looked out onto the street.
‘It’s a bit dusty, no one seems to use them anymore,’ apologised Mick. ‘Nice in the morning and the evening. Good view of the sunset,’ he added.
‘This is fine. Thank you.’
‘I’ll leave you to freshen up. Come in and I’ll show you the ropes when you’re ready. Thelma, who does the cooking, will be glad to meet you.’
In four days Anna had the pub job down pat. After the busy service of the bustling café in Prospect where she’d worked, the routine of the pub was casual. Customers expected her to linger and chat. It was all pretty laidback.
Outside her working hours, she kept to herself and enjoyed sitting on the little deck, where she could watch the activity, such as it was, in the main street. The early mornings were clear and the evening sunsets that spread across the entire horizon were bold and dramatic. She’d never really watched a sunset before, seeing the colours in the sky change from rose to blue and indigo to greenish black, and the evening star appear. In Adelaide she’d only glimpsed this phenomenon between trees in the park, over rooftops, or behind the stand at the athletics club. It was a backdrop to her activities and the traffic and hectic lifestyle of the city that she’d never had time to admire.