Queen of the Road (2 page)

Angela’s phone chirped as she dug in her bag for her car keys. She unlocked the door with one hand and juggled her mobile with the other. A couple of missed calls and a message from her father.

When will you be good. Need help at the usual fern. Janice will stay with Claud. Call of. Dad

Angela shook her head and a smile formed on her lips. Her dad insisted on using predictive text but never checked to see if what he’d typed made sense. She often got a message asking when would she be
good
. He really meant ‘home’.
Usual
was ‘truck’ but she wasn’t sure what
fern
was. She hadn’t seen that one before. She sighed as she reread his message.
Call of
meant ‘call me’. She was guessing he needed help again. She selected her father’s number and he answered straight away.

‘Angel?’

‘Hello Dad.’

‘I’m at the depot.’

That explains
fern, thought Angela. ‘What’s up?’

She listened as he reported yet another driver was off and he needed her to shift a rig to the home yard for him. Angela looked at her watch and clicked her tongue. It was already eight: well past Claudia’s bedtime. Driving the rig would mean another hour or more before she could pick up her four-year-old, and she wasn’t keen on leaving Claudia with Janice any longer than necessary.

‘Janice is taking Claud to your place.’

‘What?’ Angela couldn’t help the bark in her voice.

‘I just spoke to her. She offered to feed Claud then take her home for a bath and bed.’

Angela’s head was spinning for the second time that evening. Janice had never shown any maternal or grand-maternal interest in Claudia before. Now, in one day, she’d offered to babysit and actually take the little girl home. It was as if the earth’s axis had shifted and everything was off balance.

‘Are you still there, Angel? Did you hear me?!’ His last words came in a shout.

‘Yes, I’m here. Why doesn’t Janice just put Claud to bed at your place and I’ll come pick her up?’ Angela cast a thought to the state of her small flat. When she’d left this morning, there were clothes strewn across the lounge, dishes piled high in the sink, and Claudia’s toys scattered from one end of the apartment to the other. Lately they’d only been home long enough to eat and sleep.

‘Janice thought it would be easier if you knew Claud was tucked up in her own bed. Janice does care about you, Angel.’

Angela couldn’t connect her father’s words to the woman he had taken as his wife twelve years ago. Janice was a bitch, there was no other word for it. She never thought of anyone but herself. Except her husband, of course; Angela grudgingly conceded that her stepmother really did love her dad.

‘She knows the pressure we’re all under,’ he continued.

Angela sighed softly at the gentle reproach in his voice. ‘Okay, Dad, I’m on my way.’

The drive to the depot gave her plenty of time to think. She’d tried to listen to Carmela’s instructions back at the café, but it had been hard to concentrate with thoughts of Nigel playing on her mind. She rolled the memory of his beautiful face around in her head. The weight in her heart confirmed her suspicions: she’d been hoping he’d come back declaring his love and begging her forgiveness. But her head told her that wasn’t going to happen.

She pushed a CD into the player and the haunting sound of Nigel’s clarinet filled the car. He’d gone overseas to follow his dream of playing with different musical ensembles, gaining experience performing. His parting words had been not to wait for him. Angela gripped the steering wheel hard as she recalled his exact words and the terror they’d evoked in her.
I don’t see a future for us. You and Claudia should move on. Don’t wait for me
.

She should have seen it coming. Nigel had been out more and more in the weeks before he left, spending time at clubs and bars with his musical buddies. Then, the night before he left, he came home, bringing Angela flowers and Claudia a doll. They ate together as a family, and after their daughter was in bed the two of them had a wonderful tender evening. It had been their first lovemaking in weeks. But the next morning, with those few words, he walked out of her life. Out of
their
life. He’d sent Claudia a couple of postcards since, but there’d been no message for Angela in these brief dispatches.

A car horn tooted behind Angela and she looked up to see that the light was green. She sped forward and brushed angrily at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Kate had sat with her through so many teary sessions over this. Eventually Angela had decided she would shed no more, but her resolve was failing her. Why did he have to come back now? Once more she wished she’d never agreed to be the stand-in bridesmaid.

Her father jumped down from the cab of his truck and his stocky figure was illuminated momentarily in the glare of her lights as she pulled in to the depot. Even from a distance, his stance was weary.

‘Thanks for coming, Angel. Tiny Trev looks like he’ll be unable to drive for a couple of months, and now Ben Boy has come down with the flu.’

‘That’s okay. You know I help when I can.’

He gave her a quick hug. ‘You’re a good daughter. I’m sorry I’ve been asking a lot lately. Your brothers would help if they were closer …’ There were deep furrows in his brow and his eyes were a bleary red.

‘I know, Dad. It’s okay.’

Angela’s brothers were a bit older than her. They’d been at high school when their mother died and were finishing uni and taking jobs interstate by the time Janice had taken over their father’s life. They were smart in more ways than one.

‘Your rig’s over here.’

Angela couldn’t help the grin that lifted the corners of her mouth as she looked across at the gleaming white truck with wide red stripes and the name ‘Big Red’ painted above its window. She’d been around the trucking business all her life and had learned to drive the big machines as soon as she was old enough. Janice was okay with bookwork, but she hated the vehicles themselves, so this had always been the one thing that Angela could share with her father. The truck she was looking at was her father’s new pride and joy.

She walked around the rig, inspecting it in the floodlit yard as she went. Even though she knew her father would have done it already, it was habit. He had taught her well. When she got back to the driver’s door he was waiting for her.

‘She could be yours, you know, Angel.’

‘What do you mean?’ Angela felt a pang of dread. She looked closely at her father. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.’ He smiled, but the sparkle didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘It’s just that there’s more work than I’ve got drivers for.’

Angela let out the breath she’d been holding. Her father looked tired, much older than his fifty-five years. Just when he should be easing himself towards retirement, he was working harder than ever.

‘The company’s not in trouble?’

‘No.’ He snorted. ‘There’s plenty of work. If I had fit drivers and another truck I’d be happier. I heard about this country run that no one will take on. It’s a great opportunity. I had Tiny Trev set to do it but he could be laid up for months now and none of my other drivers are prepared to leave Melbourne. Not that I blame them. They’ve all got families here and I’ve got work for them otherwise. But this is a chance for us to expand the business interstate.’

‘Where’s the run?’

‘South Australia.’

Angela frowned. ‘What about my job?’

‘You could take some leave.’

‘I don’t want to. They’ve cut back on staff as it is.’

‘You haven’t seemed happy there for a while.’

‘It pays the bills.’

‘So does driving trucks.’

‘There’s too much paperwork. You said yourself it drives you nuts.’

‘That’s my problem, not yours. You only have to keep a logbook and send in the paperwork at the other end. It’s a walk in the park compared to the job you have now.’

‘What about Claudia?’

‘I’m sure they have pre-schools in South Australia. I thought it might give you some breathing space.’ He paused. ‘I heard Nigel’s back.’

‘Yeah, the whole world seems to have heard,’ Angela snapped. She reached up to the door handle.

‘Somewhere out there is a man who deserves you and Claud.’

Her father’s voice was gentle and she had to fight back the tears. She climbed up into the truck and shut the door, then adjusted the seat for her short body. Once she felt composed, she looked down. He was waving at her to lower her window.

‘When you get to the home yard, take my car to your place. We’ll swap back on the weekend.’

She nodded and turned the key in the ignition. Her spirits lifted as the truck rumbled to life beneath her.

‘Angel,’ he called.

She leaned out the window again.

‘Think about my offer. Sometimes a change is as good as a holiday. It wouldn’t be forever.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said and gave him a wave before she checked her mirrors. But she’d only said it to keep him happy. There was no way she could throw in her job with the money she owed but she wasn’t about to tell her father that. He’d already paid off a credit card for her once before. There was precious Claudia to think about too, of course. She’d only just started pre-school. And now there was Nigel.

Once again, the pain gnawed in Angela’s chest. She could do without Nigel right now, but he was Claudia’s father and the little girl had a right to spend time with him. They’d have to work something out. Running away to South Australia was not the answer.

Angela glanced around the spacious interior of the truck – it was fitted out with every comfort you could need. She checked the controls on the steering column. She’d had a couple of test drives
and some short runs in her father’s new toy and she loved it. The big truck could almost drive itself.

Once she was out on the highway she turned up the radio and settled into the seat. The reassuring thrum of the big engine vibrated beneath her and she relaxed a little. Her father was right, she did enjoy driving trucks.

A siren wailed behind her and the flashing lights of a police car raced up level with the truck. Angela gripped the wheel and resisted the urge to look down. She remembered the bubbly. It had only been one glass and was a few hours ago now, but she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t register in a breathalyser. It was stupid of her to forget: she was supposed to be alcohol-free.

The police car surged ahead and she eased off the pedal. She exhaled slowly. Her father wouldn’t be so keen for her to take that job if he realised how unreliable she was. She clicked her tongue and concentrated on navigating the rig home.

‘You’ll stay on and look after the place for me, won’t you?’

Coop shifted his gaze from the empty street to Alice. They’d driven the fifty kilometres into town in silence, each deep in their own thoughts. Now, parked at the bus stop, she looked older somehow. The worry lines of her frown were deep in her forehead and her skin looked paper-thin. Strands of greying hair had floated loose from her bun and were sticking to her face in the heat.

‘I said I would. Won’t be long and you’ll be back.’ His voice was gruffer than he’d intended but he didn’t like to see her this way. She looked smaller, no longer the invincible woman he’d come to admire.

‘I’ve left the seeding plan in case there’s an early start to the season.’

Coop flicked his eyes around the dry, dusty street. Hardly any rain had fallen in the district for years. Certainly none in the time he’d been here. ‘That’s what I like about you, Alice. You’re an optimist.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

‘You’re tough. If you can run a farm alone, you can beat this disease.’

‘I couldn’t have managed without you this last year.’

There was moisture forming in her eyes and Coop quickly turned his head back to the road. ‘That’s ‘cause you weren’t a hundred percent. You’ll be back to your old self soon enough.’

‘I’m seventy,’ she said softly, ‘and this might be a hill too high to climb.’

‘Positive attitude, that’s what you have to have.’

‘Don’t lecture me about my attitude. My husband died young, I had no kids and no job. It was either manage the farm or sell up. Do you think I’d have survived out here without a positive attitude?’

Coop looked into her eyes and was pleased to see some spark back in them. She’d never told him why she was alone on a farm out the back of nowhere, but plenty of locals had been happy to fill him in.

‘Whatever happens, the dust eventually settles. But I’m also a realist, Coop. What will you do if I don’t come back?’

‘I’ll find something else. I told you I wasn’t going to stay forever. I’m not one to put down roots.’

The bus pulled up at the curb across from them and he watched Alice droop back in her seat. He wished there was more he could do for her. Going to Adelaide for cancer treatment was tough enough, but to do it alone must have seemed overwhelming.

‘I’ll look after the place for you. Now come on,’ he opened his door, ‘the sooner you get there, the sooner you’ll be back.’

‘I gave you my cousin Mary’s number, didn’t I?’

‘In my notebook.’ He patted his top pocket.

The bus driver took her case. She hovered at the step then abruptly turned back. ‘Sleep in the house while I’m gone, Coop.’

‘I’m fine in the quarters. You won’t be away long.’

‘It could be months. Word gets around when a house is empty. Decay creeps in quicker out here.’ She placed a hand on his arm. ‘It will be easier for you being in the house … Please.’

Once again he was shocked by her fragility. He didn’t want to stay in the house, but if that’s what it was going to take to put her mind at rest, he’d do it. ‘Okay,’ he said.

Alice’s shrewd eyes met his. ‘I’ve never had any reason to doubt your honesty. I’ll take your word.’ She shook his hand firmly.

‘I’m praying for you, Alice,’ he said quickly. He’d never said that to anyone before, but right now he felt it was important.

She flicked her eyes up and gave Coop a quirky smile. ‘I haven’t had much luck with prayer, but if He listens to you, go for it. I’m going to need all the help I can get.’

The driver climbed back onto the bus and she followed him up the steps.

‘I’ll keep the light on for you,’ he called after her.

Even though her house was a good distance from the old shed she grandly called ‘the quarters’, Alice always left the outside light on if Coop was out at night. It didn’t seem to matter what time he got in, once he was home, the light would go off. In the early days he’d been amused by this watchfulness. Now it had become a kind of comforting ritual.

Alice waved a hand over her shoulder and the driver shut the door. Coop adjusted his battered Akubra more firmly on his head, strode back to his ute and drove away without a backward glance.

***

The stock and station agency was on the edge of town, beside the highway and just after the fancy new sign that announced,
‘Welcome to Munirilla – Hub of the Eyre Peninsula’. The original front of the building was brick but it had grown over the years with several tin extensions tacked on at the sides and back.

The new young lad helped Coop load some posts and rolls of wire onto the back of the ute. Coop had no idea what the lad’s name was. There had been another young chap working here when he’d first come to town. He’d never known his name either. He was just ‘the young lad’. The last time Coop had come to collect some bags of chook pellets, he was gone and the one helping him now was introduced as ‘the new young lad’.

After their initial hellos they loaded the ute together in silence, until the last post was stashed and Coop was ready to tie it down.

‘Thanks mate,’ he said.

The lad grinned and shot off to help another customer.

‘Alice’s gone, then?’

Coop turned to face Ken Harris, the owner of the agency. ‘That’s right.’

‘Hope it goes well for her.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’ll be busy.’

‘I guess I will.’ Coop tugged on the rope he’d tied over the wire. Small towns were the same everywhere: nothing was private. If you forgot what you were doing or where you were going, there’d always be someone around to remind you. The bus had only just left but Coop would bet his R.M. Williams boots that most of the town would already know she was gone and why.

‘Sorry those parts you ordered haven’t arrived. We’re still relying on Berl Stock Transport to do the run for us. Thought we had a company lined up to take it on permanently, but looks like it might have fallen through.’

‘That’s bad luck.’

‘Munirilla can’t survive without regular deliveries.’ Ken kicked a rock through the dust with his boot. ‘Are you sure you won’t take it on? Even for a while?’

‘Sorry Ken. I told Alice I’d look after the place while she’s away, then it’ll probably be time for me to move on.’

‘You’re right, mate. I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but I’m desperate. Every shop owner is. Frank at the IGA is in worse trouble than me. He’s not at all happy with Berls but we don’t have much choice. Always over a barrel, it seems.’

Coop climbed into his ute and felt a temporary pang of remorse. He’d got to know Ken quite well and admired his dedication to Munirilla. He worked hard in his business and hard for the town. He’d tried a couple of times to get Coop to take on the delivery between Munirilla and Adelaide, but he’d turned him down. Years ago he’d driven trucks in Queensland, moving loads for a mining company, but that had been enough. He didn’t mind doing the odd trip, taking wool to the city or stock to markets, but he didn’t want to make a job of it. He’d rather work with sheep than be a truckie again. Besides, he’d been in Munirilla nearly long enough.

‘Something will come along,’ Coop offered.

‘I hope you’re right. This town needs to survive.’

Coop raised his hand in farewell but a tray top four-wheel drive roared in off the highway and skidded to a halt beside him before he could drive off. Coop felt his jaw clench as the dirty window rolled down and the driver leaned out, his face pulled into a lopsided grin.

‘G’day Coop.’

‘Skitch.’ Coop nodded his head to the younger man, watching him closely.

‘Lucky I saw you.’

Coop waited to find out why. He didn’t have much time for Skitch Barnes, but he was Alice’s neighbour and his parents were friends of hers. Skitch reached under his hat and scratched his head. His eyes slid away from Coop’s steady gaze.

‘You’ll need that stuff,’ Skitch said, wagging his finger at the fencing gear in the back of Coop’s ute. ‘The old man sent me over to Alice’s to let you know there’s a fence down on Boundary Road. I waited around a while then remembered she was heading off today.’

‘You could have rung the house. Saved yourself the trip.’ Coop didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the idea of Skitch hanging around at Alice’s with no one at home.

‘Old man wanted to let Alice know straight away. We’ve hooked it up for now, but it needs attention pretty soon.’ He patted the mobile clipped to his shirt pocket. ‘There’s no signal out there anyway. I was going to leave a note but that dog of yours wasn’t keen for me to move far from my vehicle.’

Coop couldn’t help the small smile that twitched at his lips. Jilly, his blue heeler, didn’t like Skitch much either.

‘Anyway, I had to come into town so thought I’d keep my eye out.’

Coop continued to stare at Skitch.

‘Just doing as I was asked. The old man said to give us a call if you need help fixing the fence.’ This last sentence came out in a rush and Skitch’s face turned red. ‘We’ve been Alice’s friends for a long time,’ he muttered, putting his four-wheel drive into gear.

Coop was once again reminded that he was the newcomer. Skitch’s dad, Barry, had always helped Alice in the past, and Coop got the strong impression old man Barnes still didn’t trust him.

‘I’ll get on to it,’ he said. ‘Tell your dad thanks.’

He nodded to Skitch and turned his ute out along the highway towards Alice’s farm.
You have to be in a place a long time to win the trust of some locals
, he reflected, knowing he wasn’t going to be here long enough for the Barnes family to get to know him that well. Coop never wanted to stay in one place much. He took up work
where he could get it, and moved on when the job was done or when he felt the urge to try something else.

It was nearly dark by the time he got back to the property. Rusty, Alice’s old brown kelpie, hobbled from the side of the house and stopped by the gate. Coop’s blue heeler bounded from underneath a nearby tree and followed him to the sheds.

‘Hello Jilly.’ Coop scratched her head and threw an old tennis ball that she’d dropped at his feet. He unloaded the fencing gear, throwing the ball between each armful. Always comfortable with his own company, his dog was the only close friend he needed.

Coop had worked for Alice for over a year now, and he was beginning to get restless. But he couldn’t leave just yet. In the last month he’d noticed her strength and stamina waning, and when she finally told him about the cancer – and the need to get treatment in Adelaide – he’d promised to look after the place. Even now he shook his head at his own stupidity. He didn’t like having someone depend on him. Still, it shouldn’t be too long. Once Alice had regained her strength he’d be off to the next place.

Besides, he’d grown to like the woman they called a ‘tough old biddy’ in town. He was happy to help her out. She was a kindred spirit, a loner like him, and he knew it had been difficult for her to ask for his help. Alice didn’t like to rely on anyone any more than he did.

The chooks were already nestled in their boxes when he shut the rickety wire gate on them. He scratched his dog’s ears while he cast an eye over the enclosure. Alice had lost two of her laying hens to a fox a couple of weeks back. She’d been late home and the fox had been quick. Her old dog wouldn’t have heard a thing and Jilly had been with Coop, delivering a load of hay.

The hens were part of Alice’s domain; Coop hadn’t been near their enclosure for months. Now, even though the light was all but gone from the sky, he could see that the structure would barely
keep the chooks in, let alone a cunning fox out. It was a wonder she hadn’t lost the lot.

‘We might have to do some work on this henhouse after we’ve fixed the paddock fence, hey Jilly?’

Coop thought about the sheep and the broken fence, but it was too late to go out there now. They were a mob of ewes about to lamb: Alice’s pride and joy. She had driven around them only yesterday, so the fence damage must be new, probably from a kangaroo. With any luck, they’d stay put till the morning and he’d get out there first thing.

He turned and walked back towards the house. Alice’s old dog was still sitting in the open gateway. Jilly stopped several paces away and dropped down to wait. She had always deferred to the older dog’s ownership of the house yard. As he looked from her to Rusty he noticed fresh tyre tracks in the dust. He followed them to the garage. They stopped by the path that led through Alice’s sparse garden to the house. Skitch must have driven right in.

Coop crunched along the gravel path, thinking back over the brief conversation he’d had with Skitch. Something was niggling at him, something that didn’t sit right, but whatever it was, it eluded him. He stepped up onto the verandah and reached the back door. His hand hovered over the handle. He’d never been inside the house without Alice being there. Rusty sat patiently beside him and let out a long, low whine.

Coop patted the dog on the head. ‘I guess none of us will get fed if we wait out here, will we, Rusty?’

The door was never locked. Inside, he took off his hat and hung it next to Alice’s. Hers was a broad-brimmed straw variety with a collection of feathers tucked into the band. He smiled at the recent addition of a large brown feather jutting out at an odd angle. The hat was the shape of a cattleman’s and always looked out of proportion on top of Alice’s slight frame.

A quick inspection of the fridge located the container of food that Alice had left for him and some bones for the dogs. He scraped some stew onto a plate. There was enough to feed him for a few days.

While the food turned in the microwave, he went back out to feed the dogs and clean up in the washroom by the back door. He splashed water on his face and rubbed it vigorously with a towel. Alice always expected him to use the bathroom here at the house. The old toilet in the quarters still worked but the shower house had collapsed long before he’d arrived. Shearers no longer needed overnight accommodation on the property, so it had never been fixed.

Back in the kitchen he tested the stew and set it going for a few more minutes. He was comfortable in this room – it was where he ate most of his meals with Alice. He’d never been in the spare bedroom at the end of the kitchen, however. He flicked on the light and cast his eyes quickly over the sparse furnishings. Along one wall was a single bed with an old, green candlewick bedspread; he hadn’t seen one of those covers for years. Beside the bed was a small chest of drawers with a lamp and against the opposite wall was a small wardrobe. This was where Alice expected him to sleep.