narratorAUSTRALIA Volume One
Page 16
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Powerful headlights on a road-train cut through the driving rain, lighting up a dozen or more giant rigs crouching like prehistoric monsters in front of the Roadhouse. The driver cursed when he saw the bays closest to the door were full, forcing him to park a few hundred metres away. He considered staying in the cab until the rain eased but the soft welcoming glow from the roadhouse windows proved too much. Awkwardly he pulled on his oilskins, jumped to the ground and ran for the door.
Inside the roadhouse, the rattle of the rain on the galvanised roof competed with the drink-fuelled voices of the clientele for attention. Most of the men leaning on the bar or sitting at the well worn tables were drivers from the rigs outside. Heads turned as the door flew open to admit a newcomer, water pouring from his oilskins, forming a puddle at his feet.
‘Christ, it’s a bugger of a night out there, bloody cold and wet, like the shit weather they get down south.’
‘Yeah mate, but at least the drought has broken.’
‘Come and ’ave a beer mate, you won’t be goin’ anywhere tonight. Road’s cut in a dozen places. Looks like we’re all stuck here for the night,’ the barman said, dumping a tray loaded with beer on a table.
A little dark bloke at the far end of the table took a well-worn tobacco pouch and papers from his pocket and began to roll a cigarette.
‘Talkin’ about the south reminded me of a weird thing that ’appened to me two or three months back … ’ he paused, concentrating on packing tobacco into the cigarette with a match.
‘Go on, stop messin’ around.’
‘Now where was I? Yeah, I was barrellin’ along a couple of hundred klicks north of here when I ran into a bit of a willy-willy. Right in the middle of the swirlin’ red dust, I thought I’d seen somethin’; someone. Checked me rear vision mirrors and there she was, standin’, lookin’ like she was waitin’ for somethin’. A skinny bit of a girl in a real light dress.’ He paused to light his cigarette.
‘Well?’
‘The rig took a bit of stoppin’, but I waited for ’er to catch up and hop in. I asked ’er where she was goin’, she says “South”. That’s all she says, not another word. She wasn’t carryin’ a pack; nothing at all. Hours later I heard a bit of a noise, thought maybe somethin’ in the load had come loose. I pulled the rig off the road and went to check; when I got back she’d gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Yes, gone. I thought maybe she’d gone for a pee so I revved the engine and waited a bit, called but there was no sign of her. What could I do? Reported it at the next roadhouse but never ’eard anything more.’
Another nodded thoughtfully.
‘I’ve ’eard others tellin’ the same yarn; young bird appears from nowhere, says nothin’ but that she’s goin’ south and then disappears into thin air.’
‘Next thing, you’ll be sayin’ she’s a ghost!’
‘Well, what would you call ’er?’
The barman stopped pulling a beer to interject.
‘A bloke was sayin’, a young woman went missin’ up round Kalabandy way, must be more than six months ago now. They reckon she went off her rocker after her husband died and just walked off the property. Never found a trace of ’er.’
The newcomer, leaning on the bar, who had been listening intently, picked up his beer and walked over to join the group at the table.
‘If you’re interested maybe I can give you an end to the story, but it doesn’t really explain anythin’. A few weeks ago, I was doin’ the south coast run. Early one morning, I seen this young woman standin’ by the side of the road. It was bloody cold but she was only wearin’ a light dress; she must have been freezin’. She didn’t look as if she was hitchin’, but like you said, waitin’ for somethin’. There was somethin’ about her ... anyway I stopped and in she hopped. No backpack or nothing. I asked where she was goin’ and she said “South”. Didn’t say another word until hours later, when we get to where the road turns east and runs along the cliffs near Cape Wrath, she asks me to stop. She’s out of the rig and off towards cliffs as quick as a flash. Just then, one of them southerlies comes up outta nowhere; rain, wind, the works and swallows ’er up. I lost sight of ’er. Then, there’s a bit of a break and I seen ’er, standin’ right on the edge of the cliffs at the Cape. Then, next moment, she’s gone.’
‘She jumped?’
‘No, she was standin’, with ’er arms stretched out above ’er ’ead, with that skimpy dress flyin’ out behind ’er. She lifted ’er face up, facin’ into the wind, like a kid waitin’ for a kiss; then she just wasn’t there any more, just gone. I never seen ’er fall.’