by David Burton
‘But they’ve got no car.’
‘So they walk there. Drinking. Get into a fight. Simms kills Tyson, freaks out, and goes to get a car to pick him up and hide the body. In between all of that, you find him floating in the water.’
Shaun kicked a loose bit of gravel. ‘That doesn’t make any sense, though. Why were they at the lake? And why did Tyson take his boots off? Why would they walk there?’
There was silence for a while, nothing but the hum of an occasional car passing them on the road. But as they got closer to school, they heard a crowd, noisy and furious.
‘What’s that?’ Shaun looked towards the small roadside park where the noise was coming from.
Cars were parked untidily along one side. There were a few dozen men, all in hi-vis, carrying placard signs and chanting loudly. They were standing in the park, directly in front of the road. The skate park was just behind them.
‘KEEP JOBS LOCAL, KEEP JOBS LOCAL.’ They were yelling directly at a single ute passing by, clearly a vehicle that belonged at a mining site and on its way to work. As the ute approached the roar grew louder. Shaun instantly saw Peter Grant’s face among the crowd, stark and red, bellowing at the driver. The ute kept going, and the protesters settled down.
Underneath the park’s gazebo was an esky containing soft drinks and water. Someone had brought an urn. There were camping chairs wherever there was shade. Their anger subsiding, the men returned to their seats, letting the placards lean in a clump against the abandoned bathtub by the skate ramps and retreating to the shade of a gumtree.
Bold type splashed across the signs, each with a different message.
We need camp cooks, not camp crooks.
1. Profit 2. Profit 3. Profit 4. Safety.
Save our local business.
And a dozen or so more with KEEP JOBS LOCAL.
Bordering the space were bright red flags with a familiar logo painted on them. It was the logo of the union.
‘What’s all this about?’ said Shaun, and Will shrugged.
Peter spotted them from across the park, his face still red from yelling, and he waved and beckoned for them to come over. They made their way through the small crowd.
‘Boys,’ he said, offering his hand to both of them. ‘How are you?’
Shaun was uncertain. Even when friendly, Peter was still a rough and imposing figure. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
He regretted it as soon as he’d asked. Of course he must be feeling awful: he was grieving for the son who Shaun had found dead in the lake.
But Peter just shifted his weight and looked down at the dry grass. ‘We’re all right. Still haven’t heard if they’ve found him or what the hell’s happened.’ He looked at Will. ‘I was disappointed not to see your father with us here today, Will.’
‘His shift finishes tonight.’
‘Even so, a bunch of these guys have walked off shift. Scotts wants to move their workforce to be almost entirely fly-in fly-outs. That’d ruin the town. They’re doing all sorts of dodgy stuff at the moment. We’ve walked off today, and we’ll be here until they promise to retain our jobs. Shifting to contract work is going to bugger everyone up in the long run. Means the union has less control, for one thing.’
The two boys made sympathetic noises.
Peter focused on Will. ‘We really want to see your dad here, mate.’
Will said nothing, but Shaun knew that his dad would never walk off the job – the threat to his income was too real, and he had a family to look after. Any strike attempt meant that workers were putting their jobs on the line.
Will began to move towards school, but Shaun couldn’t resist the opportunity to get more information on Simms.
‘Did you end up talking to that guy again, Mr Grant? Henry Simms?’
As soon as Shaun mentioned his name, Peter’s face hardened. ‘That bloke,’ he scowled, straightening up, his anger bubbling over. ‘Safety officer on-site used to be a union position. Blokes like him have the power to stop all work if something happens or if anyone’s in danger. But last year we lost that fight, and now Scotts chooses the person who’s in that position, and they don’t have any responsibility to let the union or anyone else know about accidents or anything that happens to their workers. That guy, the so-called “safety officer”, is there to make sure work and profit keep going, no matter what. If workers get hurt or tired or do overtime, it doesn’t matter. He spends half his day looking the other bloody way. We were lucky your dad didn’t have him in charge, Shaun.’
Shaun swallowed at the mention of his father. He was suddenly pleading with the ground to open up and take him whole.
‘Do you think he had something to do with Tyson?’ said Will.
Peter’s angry trance was replaced by a tough, sad smile. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me, mate. Those blokes’d cover up just about anything. I reckon Simms knows something that he isn’t telling anybody. You boys—’ Peter shook his head. ‘You blokes blow me away. I’m sorry you had to find Tyson, but I know you’re fighting for what’s right. There’s something going on here. We all know it.’ He fixed his eyes on Shaun. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. For not giving up.’
Shaun felt warm across his chest. ‘No worries, Mr Grant. I mean, I was just doing what I thought was right.’
Peter gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. ‘You blokes should get to school,’ he said, then he turned to Will. ‘You, young man, need to tell your father to come down here. I’ve talked to him a lot over the past week. If he gets into the union it’ll be better for him. All right? And listen, actually, why don’t you two come round tonight? It’s the least we can do to thank you for all that you’ve done for Tyson. Yeah?’
The boys had little option but to thank him for the invitation. As they left, the mob erupted again, shouting and jeering at a passing ute. Shaun and Will quickened their step. Shaun wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but his stomach churned with fresh anxiety.
Dinner at the Grants’. Tonight.
It would be the first time he had seen Megan in days. But Peter would also be there, raw and commanding.
They barely had time to talk before their first class with Tenner. Shaun kept his head down and tried to get through the lesson. The room was warm and stuffy, and his head was swimming. He wanted to solve the murder and be called a hero, but every time he talked to an adult about Tyson, he was left even more confused about who was right and who was wrong.
‘Shaun,’ Tenner’s voice shook the room. ‘Are you listening?’
He’d been staring out the window.
‘Yes, sir.’ He tried to refocus.
But the image of Simms, the safety officer, kept interrupting his thoughts. He still struggled to see Simms as a killer. But if Simms worked for Scotts, and not the unions, then what Peter said could have been right. Shaun found it easy to believe that the mining company would want to keep all accidents on the down low. Accidents were bad for business. Shaun knew that from his dad.
But if Tyson had an accident, then Simms and the other admin at the mine would’ve freaked. The son of the union leader in an accident? Peter would have gone mental if he found out.
The movie ran together in Shaun’s mind, clear and pulsing. Tyson gets into an accident at work. The company panics, knows that Peter will cause a massive fuss, so they attempt to cover it up. They try to dispose of Tyson’s body. Shaun finds it.
The part where the body disappeared from the lake was still uncertain, but Shaun felt a rush of excitement for piecing that much of the puzzle together. It made more sense than any other theory he’d come up with so far.
Dinner with the Grants was going to be interesting.
An hour after school, Will texted Shaun to let him know he wouldn’t be coming to dinner.
Mum says the Grants are shifty and we need to stay out of troubl
e. She doesn’t like the unions. She says I can’t go.
Shaun knew that Will’s dad had long held out against joining the union, so he wasn’t popular with Peter and his mates. Shaun tried to imagine how his mother would react to him hanging with the Grants. Probably best not to mention it. She was stuck at work anyway.
Peter answered the door barefoot and with an open beer in his hand. Shaun hadn’t had the sense to bring anything, and he regretted it, but Peter didn’t notice. He offered him a firm handshake.
‘Mate, thanks for coming. Head on through.’
Shaun muttered thanks and walked into the lounge room. A TV was blaring out the local news. Millie, Tyson’s girlfriend, was slumped in front of it. She looked as though she’d been there most of the day.
‘Hi,’ Shaun offered. She waved back, her eyes only momentarily leaving the screen.
Shaun hadn’t ever spoken much with Millie. But he knew that she and Tyson had been with each other for a long time, and she lived by herself in a house only a block away from the Grants. She worked at the pub.
Megan appeared from the backyard, nursing a full basket of washing on her hip. She looked considerably more adult out of her school uniform and Shaun’s heart caught in his throat.
‘Hi,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Hey.’
She put the basket down on one of the lounge chairs. Peter had also planted himself in front of the TV.
‘We’re waiting for Dad to pop up on the news,’ she explained.
‘Yeah, sorry, mate,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll be with you in a tick.’
Shaun could smell roast chicken coming from the kitchen. Megan was folding the washing. He noticed some women’s underwear in the pile and he tried not to stare. Some would belong to Megan’s mum, some maybe to Millie, but some would be Megan’s.
His heart was pounding. He had never crossed this threshold before. He didn’t know how to stand. They were all acting normally, but he felt like an alien. He had found one of them dead, and now here he was about to eat dinner with the rest of them.
‘I’ll be back in a tick,’ Megan said and took the washing with her down the hall.
‘Here it is!’ Peter yelled, pointing at the TV. ‘The coastal news is reporting it!’
They only got whatever news was produced in the large coastal town. Still, the young newsreader introduced the segment with a big red STRIKE! graphic hovering beside her head.
‘And trouble for Scotts Coal Australia today as over 60 of its workers went on strike from Rosewood Mine. Locals say the inevitable shift to an entirely fly-in fly-out workforce will hurt the local economy, threatening to turn the region into a series of ghost towns.’
Accompanying the sound of her voice were panning shots of the small crowd that Will and Shaun had seen earlier that day, chanting and holding up their placards. Then there was Peter’s face, looming large over the lounge room.
‘It’s a real threat to the families here,’ said the TV-Peter, swatting a fly away. ‘But these companies don’t care about that: they’re totally driven by profit. We work bloody hard on these places – why should our jobs go to people from the city or overseas?’
The report cut away to a shot of the mining site – big, grey and distant.
‘We approached Scotts Coal Australia for an interview, but they refused to comment,’ said the newsreader.
Then they went to a story about the storm season. The whole thing had lasted barely a minute.
Peter arched back in his chair. ‘Not bad, not bad. Of course the bastards didn’t comment, they never do. They used that same shot of the mine they always do. Journalists can’t go anywhere near the bloody place.’
Elaine came in, her brow streaked with sweat. ‘Ah, Shaun,’ she said, ‘I heard you come in.’ She turned to her husband. ‘You offered him a drink?’
‘Nah, sorry,’ he said, pointing to the TV. ‘The news—’
But she interrupted him, turning her kind smile back to Shaun. ‘Can’t get good help around here, can you, Shaun? Come on through. I’ll get you a drink.’
‘Thanks,’ he muttered, following her.
Elaine was normal now, a kind mother to one of Shaun’s friends. He couldn’t stop thinking about the noise she had made when he saw her last. The noise he’d heard Peter and Megan make too. They’d been wounded animals, metres away from him.
‘Coke?’ she asked. ‘Or water, or—’
‘Water’s fine,’ Shaun said. She poured him a glass out of a jug from the fridge. The kitchen was hot.
‘Thought I’d do a roast,’ she said. ‘Why not? Tyson’s favourite dinner. Loved my roast potatoes.’
Shaun stiffened at the mention of his name, but Elaine barely flinched.
‘It’ll be ready in a tick,’ she said, then she yelled back into the lounge room, ‘MEGAN!’
Shaun gulped his water down. When Megan reappeared, he noticed that she had tied her hair back, and she’d put a necklace on.
‘Jesus, Mum,’ she said. ‘It’s bloody hot in here.’
‘I’m making a roast,’ Elaine said. ‘Tyson always loved one. Loved my roast potatoes.’
‘Yep, all right, Mum.’
‘Why don’t you and Shaun go and feed the chooks? By the time you’re back, dinner will be on the table.’
Megan offered Shaun a smile and he followed her out to the backyard.
The block of land was huge. Bigger than most of the places around town, which were all divided up and built on by the mining companies. The Grants had one of the older properties, from when farming used to rule the region. When Shaun stepped off the back verandah he felt like he’d stepped off the back of the world. Aside from a rusty trampoline, and a shed that was falling apart, there was nothing but flat paddocks to the horizon. Dusk was coming on, and the sky yawned above them, pink and silky.
Down at the far corner of the yard was a chook pen containing half-a-dozen birds that looked as though they’d been there for years. It was big enough to walk around in, though you had to bend to get through the small gate. It must have been red once, but now the paint flaked away, revealing dry timber underneath.
The chickens croaked at them, reacting loudly when Megan picked up the tin bucket just outside the gate. Shaun followed her and watched as she took a scoop of feed and sprinkled it on the ground. They stared at the animals pecking greedily at the dirt.
Shaun didn’t know what to say, and evidently Megan didn’t either. The whole earth was quiet save for the busy muttering of the birds.
If he was brave he would kiss her right now. He had never kissed anyone. He was pretty sure she hadn’t either.
‘Will couldn’t come?’ she said, staring at the chooks.
‘Nah.’ He kicked at the dirt. ‘Nah, said he had work.’
‘Will? Work?’ She laughed. ‘His parents have never liked my parents. They don’t get how my dad’s just trying to do the best for everyone. Even though he’s a jerk sometimes.’
Shaun let the silence hang between them. ‘So how’s your dad been?’ he said.
She cleared her throat quietly, took another scoop of grain and scattered it across the ground. ‘Pretty awful. Scary, really. He gets angry when he’s sad. I’ve never understood why men do that. It’s so dumb. Tyson was like that too.’
They were silent for another long while.
‘Have I missed anything at school?’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘Nah, not really. Same old stuff. Will and I have got to go and talk to Tenner tomorrow about debating.’
She looked up. ‘Are you two going to do it?’
‘Dunno. We were going to see how you felt. Tenner says the first one’s in Brisbane.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘When?’
‘Soon I think. I dunno. Scotts are paying for flights appare
ntly.’
‘We should do it,’ she said, brightening.
‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely. I can’t stay around here. I’ll go crazy. Tell Tenner I’ll do it. Mum doesn’t want me to go to school tomorrow. But maybe I can convince her to let me go Wednesday.’
‘Okay. Sure.’
She offered him the small shovel for the grain. ‘Wanna go?’
‘Haven’t they had enough?’
‘They get a treat. You’re here.’
Shaun smiled, and so did she.
He took the scoop from her hand and filled it with feed, but somehow he got the next bit wrong. He had intended to let the grain scatter across the ground evenly, but instead it flew out of his hand too early, and it landed in a single clump.
She laughed. He went red in the face. ‘I’m so stupid,’ he said.
‘Doesn’t matter to them.’
The chickens were pecking happily at the pile now. Shaun followed Megan back out, leaving the bucket where they had found it. The air had cooled down, with the last rays of sun glinting across the landscape. Ahead of them, the house loomed, hot and heavy.
Then something happened. Without a word, Megan took Shaun’s hand in hers. Their palms fitted together, easy and still.
They walked back to the house, Shaun almost flying the whole way.
When Shaun went to sit at the table for dinner, Megan pressed her hand into his back and directed him to another seat. At first he thought that she was being affectionate, but he soon realised that no-one was sitting in the chair he had chosen. It was Tyson’s, and they all sat around it, keeping the space open for his ghost. Shaun hoped no-one else had seen, and he clumsily dropped into the other spare chair.
Elaine was distracted all through dinner. Shaun noticed her pointing out the potatoes for the third time, and wasn’t sure if he should accept them when they were passed to him. They were delicious anyway, and she seemed glad that everyone was enjoying them. Millie ate only a few mouthfuls. She was silent. Peter opened another beer and talked at length about the protest, while Shaun let the words wash over him. It was only then that he noticed the black can in Peter’s hand: Guinness.
