The Roadhouse

by Kerry McGinnis

  Chapter Twenty-five

  On Saturday evening Bob brought the station wagon round to the front of the roadhouse. He looked very sharp in his race-wear, a pale-blue sateen shirt with an embroidered yoke and a string tie above narrow grey dress pants and polished Cuban-heeled riding boots.

  ‘Yer locked up?’ He ushered Mum into the front seat while I climbed into the back.

  ‘No, I’ve left the place wide open, you old fool,’ Mum retorted but without her customary sharpness. ‘Are you leaving the dog loose?’

  ‘Yep. He can keep an eye on the joint. You right, Charlie?’

  ‘Yes.’ I pulled my seatbelt on. Ute, stately and very attractive in her borrowed clothes, had left earlier with Eric in a Main Roads vehicle that he’d cleaned inside and out for the occasion. Mike was already there, having spent the day at the races along with Bob and my mother, while Ute and I held the fort.

  ‘Who won the Cup?’ I remembered to ask then.

  ‘Ben Damson. With a big liver-chestnut horse,’ Bob said. ‘Weren’t no competition at all. He just ran away from the field like none of ’em was trying.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘Kharko. They can afford to breed the best.’ The station was owned by the biggest cattle company in the Centre and if the board seemed to pick their managers for their interest in racing, at least it ensured that the local meetings continued, as they hadn’t in some other districts. ‘Mike will bring me home,’ I said, ‘so you needn’t wait for me. You come back as soon as you like, Mum.’

  ‘I’ll stay till supper,’ she said. Our contribution to that was sitting behind me, and I twisted about to check that the boxes were secure.

  ‘Well, you’re looking very nice tonight,’ I told her. ‘Don’t let her get danced off her feet, Bob.’

  He bristled at the thought as I’d known he would, saying darkly, ‘You just watch where that young feller puts his hands, girl, an’ leave me worry about Molly.’

  The hall at Harts Range was back behind the police station, a simple shed with a raised timber floor that someone from the Race Club committee had been over that morning with French polish. A music deck had replaced the volunteer musicians of the old days and the paid bands that followed. Somebody had stuck a few decorations up on the walls and strung streamers from the rafters, but the place was basically a big unlined shed. Bemused and a little saddened, I turned to Mike as we walked in, raising my voice over the insistent beat of the music.

  ‘What’s changed? I used to think this was so glamorous. It’s not even warm.’

  ‘Let’s get moving, then – that’ll help.’ He scooped the wrap from my shoulders and dumped it on the end of the closest bench, then led me onto the floor to join the only other couple dancing. ‘As to what’s changed,’ he murmured into my ear, ‘you have, Charlie. Your horizons have widened, that’s all. It’s no bad thing.’

  ‘I suppose, but the magic’s gone.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s within us. You’ll find it again.’

  The floor was gradually filling up around us. I saw Bob and my mother seated against the wall and caught a glimpse of ivory skirt in the midst of the dancers. Eric, animated and dapper in a white shirt and decent pants, looked surprisingly handsome and Ute simply glowed with happiness. Mike pulled me firmly back towards him, turning me under his arm, his own face alight with pleasure. The pressure of his hand was like a firm caress on my hip as we stepped forward together in the Pride of Erin.

  ‘You know you look lovely tonight, Charlie. Good enough to eat. Is it my imagination or is old Bob glaring at me?’

  ‘Probably. He told me to watch you – your hands in particular.’ He grinned at that and gripped me tighter. ‘So, was the racing good today? I’m sorry you didn’t get the Cup.’

  ‘Ah, well, there’s always next year.’ He winked. ‘And I only had five dollars on him, a bit more than the price of a stubby. I’m no gambler. Are you feeling warmer?’

  ‘Yes, I am, thanks. They’ve shut the doors, which helps.’ The music paused and we stood and clapped waiting for it to resume. ‘Where did you learn to dance, Mike?’

  ‘Same place you did, I imagine. Bush hops.’

  ‘On the contrary, sir, I had lessons. At boarding school, and then with a drama coach. All actors have to dance, and sing if they can. Oh, good, it’s a waltz.’ The music had started again. Over Mike’s shoulder as we took the first steps I saw Bob rise and bow to my mother with old-fashioned courtesy as he offered his hand. They should marry, I thought, not for the first time, and wondered if he would ever ask her, or if he was content to just love her from afar? He had done it for so long he’d probably never imagined changing things. I wondered if she wanted him to, but surely she’d have found a way to let him know, if that were the case.

  I lost myself to the music then. I loved to dance and Mike, for all his claim to having just picked up the knack, was not short of skill. There were fewer modern dances than one would have found in the city, so we foxtrotted and gypsy-tapped and barn-danced ourselves into breathlessness, Mike refusing to release me to another partner by the simple expedient of staying on the floor until the music started up again.

  I saw old Spider waltzing with Kathleen Mallory, and her various sons with their own and each other’s wives. And Bryan cutting in on Eric for the barn dance, and Bill Maddison’s youngest – a plain, gawky girl, whose hands strangled each other as she waited – finally taken onto the floor at his wife’s prompting by George Himan. People were kind. I remembered the agony of my own first time, wondering whether anyone would ask me to dance or if I’d sit partnerless all evening under the pitying gazes of my neighbours.

  Supper was held in the side room, the men good-humouredly manhandling the bench seats out to flank the long trestle tables where the food was set out. Mike and I found ourselves seated opposite Mum and Bob, whose gnarled hands were adjusting her lacy black shawl against the icy breeze from the louvred windows behind.

  ‘Will I shut them?’ Mike half rose but Spider’s sudden presence behind him prevented him from getting out of the cramped seating.

  ‘Bob, there yer are. Where’s the Cup at? Young Tom said he handed it over to you to give to me.’

  Bob’s mouth fell open in almost comic dismay. ‘Ah, Christ! I forgot all about it. I slung the box in the Rover and the bloody thing’s still there. Jesus! How could I … I s’pose you want it now?’ He was trying without much success to extricate himself from the bench.

  Spider, I remembered then, was president of the Race Club. He nodded. ‘Yeah, well soon as this mob’s finished with the tucker we’ll have the presentation. No worries, mate. If it’s in your vehicle, just give us the keys an’ I’ll grab it.’

  Bob was shaking his head. ‘We came in the station wagon. The Rover’s back at the roadhouse. Sorry, Molly, I’ll have to go back for it.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Mike said, finally managing to draw his second leg clear of the bench. ‘I’ll go. You look after the girls, Bob, and I’ll be back in no time.’

  ‘No.’ The space that Mike’s removal gave made it easier for me to step out from the bench. ‘Jasper wouldn’t let you out of the vehicle, Mike. I’ll come too.’

  Bob looked uncertain, half inclined to insist but Mum stayed him with a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you, Mike, that’s very kind of you. No, let him, Bob. His eyes are younger than yours for night driving. I’ll keep some supper for you.’

  ‘For me too, then, please,’ I said, turning to follow him, ‘I’ve only had a sandwich.’

  It was pitch dark outside with no moon, though the stars, which always seemed closer in winter, glittered like a band of diamonds arched above the range. I pulled my wrap tightly around me and felt Mike’s guiding hand on my elbow. ‘Watch it here, there’s a damn great hole —’ He fell into it as he spoke and swore and I couldn’t stifle a giggle.

  ‘So much for your advice. It’s nice of you to do this, Mike. Poor old Bob looked so gobsmacked at forgetting.’

  �
�Might improve his opinion of me,’ Mike said. ‘And while I could’ve managed, you know, I’m glad you decided to come.’

  ‘You certainly will be when we get there. I wasn’t kidding, Mike. Jasper’d have your leg off before he let you set foot out of the car.’

  ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘He’ll be right, he knows me now.’

  ‘As long as one of us is with you,’ I retorted. ‘You don’t believe me, you get out first.’

  ‘Ha!’ I caught the glimmer of his teeth in the cab light as he slammed the door. ‘Throwing me to the dogs already, eh? And we’ve only just started courting.’

  ‘Is that what we’re doing?’

  ‘Uh huh.’ He reached across to kiss me. ‘Did I mention that you’re looking particularly lovely tonight?’

  ‘You did, but there’s nothing wrong with repetition.’ I hesitated to ask but then went ahead anyway. ‘Has there been anyone for you before, Mike? Anyone serious, I mean.’

  ‘Not really. Oh, there’ve been girls I’ve taken out – in town mostly. Your lot are a bit scarce in the bush, as you know, and the drawback in meeting a girl in town is not getting a chance to see her regularly. Next time you go calling she’s dating someone else. Out here there’s really only the guvvies on the stations and they’re a bit young for me. Only kids themselves.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I nodded. ‘Rose Pennon’s governess is just seventeen. Her charges run rings around her. It does makes you wonder —’ I broke off to grab the handhold on the dashboard. ‘Watch it. Cattle!’

  ‘I see them.’ He doused the lights and slowed to a crawl to let the string of lumbering shapes move across in front of us, the dust of their going tainting the air. Mike turned the lights back on and fiddled with the heater switch. ‘Are you warm enough, Charlie?’

  ‘Yes, fine thanks.’ We were past the cattle but a faint scent of dust still lingered and I could see the odd motes caught in the headlight’s beam. ‘Somebody must have gone through before us.’

  ‘Well, it is a highway, my love.’ He spoke almost absently and I shivered with pleasure at hearing the endearment again. I love you. The words were a silent song in my heart, ones that I would not yet say but hugged to myself like a treasure to be enjoyed in times to come.

  Outside the night whipped past, a blur of dark scrub on the edge of the light through which we rushed, chasing but never catching it. We negotiated the detour around the causeway where the road crew were now working, and sailed smoothly over the concrete comprising the finished one. The turn-off was next, and then in short order the road camp, its lights left burning, followed by the darkened roadhouse that loomed in lit sections as the headlights swung across the facade. Mike switched both them and the engine off and the silence rushed in, broken only by the faint doom-doom of the road camp’s distant diesel. Nothing stirred in the starlight and he turned his head towards me.

  ‘So where’s this famous dog that’s going to eat me alive?’

  Puzzled, I pushed my door open and felt the instant bite of the chilly air. ‘I don’t know. That’s very strange, Mike. He would’ve heard us coming from miles back. He ought to be here with his bristles up and his growl ready.’ I stepped out and whistled. ‘Here Jasper! Here boy, to me!’

  Nothing happened: no growl, no patter of running feet to greet or challenge us. Even if he’d gone back to Bob’s quarters, my whistle, if not the vehicle’s arrival, should have brought him to investigate.

  ‘He’s not here,’ I said blankly, stating the obvious.

  ‘Might be off chasing a euro, or a beast that came in to the trough,’ Mike hazarded. ‘We can’t hang around looking, Charlie. They’re waiting on the Cup.’ He strode off to retrieve it. The torch flash traced his journey to the vehicle shed while I continued to whistle and call the dog, who still hadn’t appeared when Mike returned a few moments later with the cardboard box tucked under his am.

  ‘Got it.’ He opened my door, then slid behind the wheel, handing the box to me. ‘It’s okay, not dusty. I love that dress on you – you look like some young autumn goddess, all russet and gold.’

  ‘That certainly earns you a kiss.’ I pulled his head down and long moments passed pleasurably until he sighed and put me firmly away.

  ‘We’ve got to go, love. Old Spider’ll be sending a search party after us. I’ll camp at the Garnet tonight, so maybe we can carry on from here tomorrow, hmm?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I agreed, running my fingers through his dark hair. He turned his head to kiss my inner wrist where the small veins pulsed, then reached to start the engine. The Garnet fell away in our dust, and with my thoughts concentrated on the feel of Mike’s lips on my skin, the niggling worry of Jasper’s whereabouts was forgotten.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Bob was hovering at the door when we returned, the music once again swelling behind him; he fairly snatched the box from Mike’s hands.

  ‘You took your bloody time, boy. I coulda ridden there faster.’

  ‘What, on Phar Lap?’ Mike quipped. ‘And a bit of gratitude wouldn’t go amiss, old feller.’

  Bob’s tanned visage reddened. ‘Yeah, well, thanks,’ he said gruffly and hurried off. A few minutes later Spider appeared on the dais and the presentations began. Mike and I ate the selection of sandwiches and cakes Mum handed us while the proceedings continued. Ben Damson made a speech, a miniature cup was presented to the jockey, Spider rambled on at length about past race meetings and eventually the cup was christened with champagne. Then the music started up again and those with young children began gathering their kids and belongings, ready to call it a night.

  Bob and Mum were leaving too, and Eric called goodnight as he passed with Ute on his arm. I was surprised until I noticed the time; she’d have to be up preparing the men’s breakfast within a few hours. The thought brought a yawn with it and Mike looked at me. ‘You ready to leave?’

  ‘I think so. Only the diehards will be left soon and they’ll mainly be drinking.’ Two big fire-drums had been lit near the bar behind the hall, to which some of the non-family men had already gravitated. ‘It’s been lovely, Mike. I’ve really enjoyed myself.’

  ‘So have I,’ he said. ‘Come on, then, I’ll get you home. What do you bet old Bob’ll be sitting up waiting on you?’

  I laughed. ‘Maybe Mum’ll send him to bed.’

  Bob wasn’t waiting for me to come home, but he was certainly still awake. I saw his shadow cross the light in the shed as we pulled up and said, ‘Uh oh, looks like you won your bet.’

  However, it was Jasper, not my virtue that was exercising Bob’s mind. He came across to the vehicle as I got out, the headlights bouncing off the shiny surface of his shirt.

  ‘Was the old dog ’ere when you come back, Charlie?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t. I forgot to tell you, Bob. We didn’t see hide nor hair of him. I called him and whistled … We thought he might’ve gone chasing after a euro. They do come in to the trough to drink sometimes.’

  ‘Nah, he wouldn’t do that. Not when I left him on guard.’ He frowned and scratched distractedly at the nape of his neck. ‘Bloody queer, that is. First time he’s ever done that.’

  ‘There might have been a dingo bitch hanging around and he got her scent?’ Mike offered, reaching into the vehicle to switch the lights off.

  I didn’t like to suggest it but another possibility was poison. ‘The stations haven’t been doing any aerial baiting, have they?’

  ‘No,’ Mike said. ‘We just got our dates for the 1080 campaign. They start in the district next month. In any case, Kevin wouldn’t be baiting this side of Windy Bore so your dog’d be quite safe. He’ll be back come daylight, you’ll see,’ Mike said. ‘Got your things, Charlie? I’ll walk you to your door. Okay if I roll my swag out again on your verandah, Bob?’

  ‘Yeah.’ The old man whistled once, then turned away, saying over his shoulder, ‘It’s cold as buggery out. You might as well use the end room. There’s a bunk in there.’

  Mike leant close to murmur, ‘I th
ink he’s starting to like me,’ into my ear and I stifled a giggle as my hand reached for his in the darkness. Privately, I thought the invitation arose more out of distraction over the missing dog than from fondness for my head stockman, but any change of attitude was good. Bob was an important fixture in my life and I needed him to think well of Mike: for him not to do so called my own judgement into question.

  By breakfast time Jasper still hadn’t returned. Bob, though plainly upset by his disappearance, affected a gruff unconcern. Handing him his cup, I touched his arm, saying, ‘He’ll come back.’

  ‘He shouldn’t’ve bloody gone in the first place,’ he grumped. ‘I’ve been down to the bore but there’s that much comin’ and goin’ with blokes ’n trucks a man couldn’t see tracks unless they were gold-plated.’ He glared at Mike. ‘How long you stickin’ round for?’

  ‘I thought I’d poke off after lunch. That okay with you, Charlie?’

  ‘Good,’ Bob said, cutting ruthlessly across my affirmative. ‘I got a job that needs a bit of muscle. You can give us a hand, shouldn’t take no longer than an hour.’

  After breakfast, leaving the men to their unnamed task, I crossed to the roadhouse to help clear up and found Ute at the sink singing lustily to herself in what sounded like German. ‘Somebody’s happy,’ I said, picking up the tea towel. ‘Did you have a good time last night?’

  ‘It was very much fun – funny?’ I shook my head and she nodded. ‘Much fun. Good food also. From where does it come?’

  ‘Well, Mum made ours but everybody takes something along for the supper. It’s called bringing a plate.’ She frowned on the verge of a question and I said hastily, ‘What sort of dancer is Eric?’

  ‘Sort?’ She frowned. ‘But he is engineer, not dancer, Charlie.’

  ‘I meant, does he dance well? Is he a good partner?’