Dirt Bomb

by Beale, Fleur

  ‘Okay.’ I had a freaking great hollow where my gut was meant to be. ‘I mean, thanks.’

  He managed a careful laugh. ‘Hey man, it’s not so bad. Cows are okay. You’ll like them.’

  ‘I guess.’ But I’d never get to like the stink and the shit.

  ‘See you in the morning,’ Buzz said. ‘I’ll pick you up at five.’

  ‘Five? As in a.m.? You’re kidding! Right?’

  He was laughing again. ‘Unfortunately not.’

  I snatched at a couple of cast-iron excuses. ‘Not tomorrow. Gramps said he’ll buy me some boots. And anyway, you can’t pick me up. You haven’t got your full.’

  But he wasn’t having any of it. ‘I won’t tell the olds. And I’ll bring you some gear. We’ve got enough hanging about.’

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief. ‘Buzz, the alcohol’s clouding your brain. How long d’you reckon it’ll take for this Nick dude to happen to mention to Frank about you teaching your mate to milk?’ I didn’t fill in the blanks — even his alcohol-impaired reasoning ought to be able to work it out.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘True.’ He thought some more. ‘How about tomorrow night then? Would your mum drive you?’

  ‘If she can’t, Gramps will.’ Like a shot. He’d probably rub his hands together all the time he did it too.

  ‘Great. Be at mine at 3.30. You can follow me.’

  I hung up. It was done. I was destined for the cowshed, for shits, kicks and stink. Welcome to the world of employment, Jake.

  I took myself out to the lounge. Gramps and Mum had their eyes fixed on some dumb programme — there were coconut palms and tanned people bitching at each other. ‘Buzz is going to teach me to milk tomorrow,’ I said.

  That was more interesting than the telly, apparently. Mum snapped it off. She smiled at me. ‘That’s great, darling.’

  Gramps said, ‘I’ll get you the gear, but it’ll have to be Monday. You want decent boots, not some cheap rip-offs.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and told him Buzz would lend me boots for tomorrow. ‘I need to get there, though. If Buzz takes me, Frank will kill the both of us.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Gramps, rubbing his hands. ‘I’ll take you. What time?’

  I couldn’t resist it. ‘Five,’ I said. ‘In the morning. Gotta be at Buzz’s by then.’

  Gramps looked horrified and took a couple of breaths, and Mum tried not to laugh.

  ‘All right,’ Gramps said, without rubbing his hands together, ‘I used to get up that early. Nothing to it. Once you make up your mind.’

  I patted his shoulder. ‘Just having you on. It’s the evening milking, 3.30.’

  Gramps, though, was all for seizing the day. ‘Might as well start as you mean to go on, lad. I’ll get you to Buzz’s by five. You tell him.’

  Hell. I should’ve known not to mess with Gramps.

  ‘No, tomorrow afternoon is good. Buzz is going to make sure it’s okay with the owners.’

  That settled him down.

  TOMORROW. IT DIDN’T look pretty and it didn’t smell pretty. I only hoped the boys would be up to some paddock driving before then. If they weren’t, I’d go anyway. They owed me.

  In the morning I turned up at Robbie’s corner at the usual time. He wasn’t there. I waited for about five minutes. No show. Okay, if that’s how it was I’d take myself off and drive my heart out on private land where a guy didn’t need a scrappy bit of plastic to say yes, you’re allowed to get behind the wheel.

  I was on my way when I heard Robbie yell, ‘Jake! Wait up!’

  I stopped and turned round. ‘Took you long enough.’

  He looked gloomy. ‘I was lucky to get away when I did.’

  ‘Coming down heavy, are they?’

  He shook his head. ‘According to them I’m on a slippery slope straight to drugs and jail.’

  ‘Serves you right for being such a goody-good all your life till now. Come on, let’s hit the paddock.’

  Buzz was waiting for us in his usual spot. He gave us a wave and took off, leaving us trying to catch up. Damn! He’d get first drive.

  We weren’t in the mood for careful and smooth. We hurled that car around the paddock. I slammed into three handbrakeys in one run. Buzz waltzed around the paddock, jerking the car to the right, then having a go at flicking it to the left. He got about halfway round each time. To start with, Robbie just drove with his foot flat to the floor, standing on the brakes to get himself around the corners.

  ‘If he flips it, we’re in deep shit,’ Buzz said, not sounding worried.

  Neither was I. ‘It’s where we are now, so who cares?’

  It took old Robbie around six turns before he cooled it enough to try a handbrakey. By then, I was onto 360s. Buzz was perfecting wheel spins. The first time he did it, he revved the engine, winding it right up.

  ‘What the hell’s he doing?’ I asked.

  Robbie shook his head, opened his mouth to answer — and we found out. Buzz released the clutch and took off, wheels spinning, spitting out dirt and grass. We fell back a step or two. I was rubbing the crap off my face but Robbie was gagging on a lump of something that had got propelled into his gullet. I thumped him a couple of times. He wasn’t grateful.

  Buzz went right round the paddock, stopping by using a handbrakey, then taking off again with the engine howling and crap shooting out from under the spinning wheels.

  By the time we’d all had a go, we were low on gas again.

  Buzz pulled cash out of a pocket. ‘Thought that might happen. Can you guys fill the can in town?’ Then he looked at me. ‘See you at mine, 3.30.’

  The fun of the day evaporated. ‘Yeah. Okay.’ I’d clean forgotten about the milking. ‘What’s the time now?’

  Half past two. One hour to execution time. I breathed in fresh, sweet air while I still could.

  We pushed the car under the tree and rode off in our usual formation. I had the petrol can — didn’t trust Robbie to keep his mind on the road if he had to ride one-handed. ‘We’ll fill it in the morning,’ I told him when we got back to town. ‘We’re going to need to shove it in a backpack to get it back.’

  He raised a hand and headed off to his house. I watched him go. He hadn’t mentioned Jayna, and it looked like he wasn’t going to the beach to hang out with her. I wondered if she’d sent him a text saying something like: u r history u drunk oaf. I went home. Poor old Robbie, what a stuff-up way to end a romance.

  Gramps and Mum were both home and, by the look of it, both were waiting to make sure I got myself to my first ever attempt at bringing in the money.

  Mum said, ‘There’s pizza in the fridge. You’d better eat something before you go.’

  The kitchen was wrecked. I tracked down the tray of biscuits that had caused the mess. For once, I wouldn’t have to scrub the place clean. I ate and watched the clock, which is apparently meant to slow time down — but no. Time just kept on jumping onwards mighty fast. Quarter past.

  ‘Okay,’ I told Gramps. ‘Let’s hit the road.’

  He looked me up and down. ‘Well, you won’t notice shit on those clothes.’

  Funny ha ha. Still, he had a point. I scrabbled through the pile of stuff in the bottom of my wardrobe and changed into shorts and a tee-shirt that should have made the rubbish dump a couple of years ago.

  ‘Okay. I’m ready,’ I said.

  He let out an evil laugh. ‘It’s not that bad, Jake. You’ll get used to it.’

  And Mum chipped in with, ‘I’m so proud of you, darling.’

  Gramps kept a grin pasted across his face all the way to Buzz’s. Buzz came out of the house, carrying an extra pair of boots. Gramps leaned out the window. ‘Jump in with us, Buzz. No point in taking two vehicles.’

  So in Buzz jumped. Gramps fired questions at him about who he milked for, how often and did he like it? I counted the times he hammered the brakes instead of easing into a corner. I gave up at nineteen because Buzz was busy telling Gramps how pleased Nick and Jessie were that
I’d be helping tonight.

  ‘Why?’ I asked. This sounded like more work.

  Buzz said, ‘The shed’s too big for one person. Usually one of them would have to milk as well, but seeing you’re here they’re off to the beach.’

  The picture I’d had in my head of just standing around watching exploded.

  Chapter Eighteen

  LIFE STINKS

  NICK AND JESSIE’S place was up a long driveway. Gramps jerked the car to a stop on the tanker roundabout by the shed. I got out, swapped my jandals for gumboots, and waded forward into a life of poo and pong.

  I followed Buzz into the shed. The place was empty — no cows, no shit, no stink. ‘So where are the cows?’

  He gave a grin. ‘We’ve got to bring them up from the paddock.’

  I walked across the yard to take a look out over the farm. The only cows I could see were miles away. ‘Those cows?’

  ‘Unless you want to milk the neighbour’s lot as well. Come and learn, bro. You might have to set up a shed all by your lonesome one of these days.’

  Not if I could help it, but I went over and watched what he was doing. Even threw in an intelligent question or two, such as: ‘Why do you need to check the vat?’ Like, who cared if it was empty or still waiting for the tanker to rock on up? What was I meant to do if it had milk in it — tip the stuff out?

  Apparently not. ‘If it’s empty you have to put a wash through the vat,’ said Buzz-the-instructor. According to him, forgetting to do it would mean the end of my career as a cow cocky.

  I asked another intelligent question. ‘Why don’t you know if the tanker’s already emptied the vat?’ If I was driving a tanker, I’d turn up at the same time every day.

  But apparently tankers have mysterious habits. They could come at midnight. Or midday. The driver rinsed the vat when he’d emptied it, but it was up to me to push the button that would wash it out with hot water.

  ‘Doesn’t pay to forget,’ Buzz said.

  ‘Have you ever forgotten?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not yet. Don’t intend to either.’

  He started walking. ‘Come on. Time to bring the cows in.’

  Make my day, why don’t you? I trudged after him. The inside of the boots felt torn, and my toes slithered on slime.

  I was a bit surprised when Buzz didn’t leap over the gate and head off down the race to the paddock. What was he playing at? He told me to wait, and disappeared into a shed. I stayed out in the sun, wondering when he’d quit messing me round, when the sound of an engine set all my antennae on alert. What the …?

  Buzz zapped out of the shed driving a quad bike. ‘Jump on!’

  Yes! Things were looking up. I settled myself on the seat behind him, but he stopped the bike at the kennel where the collie was just about turning himself inside out with wanting to get loose.

  ‘Let Pirate off, will you?’ Buzz asked.

  I walked over to the kennel. ‘Easy, boy. How about a run, eh?’ I unclipped his chain, and he was off. By the time I’d turned to go back to the quad, there was Pirate sitting up behind Buzz, both of them grinning their heads off.

  I nudged the dog. ‘Move back, old fulla. You’re taking up too much space.’ I managed to make enough room to climb back on, but then Buzz asked me to open the gate and I had to persuade Pirate to let me on board all over again.

  Buzz sat in the driving seat, laughing and revving the motor. I’d hardly got settled before he took off, rocketing along the race, Pirate resting his head on my shoulder. His breath stank, but I forgave him the second he started rounding up the cows. As soon as I’d got the gate to the cow paddock open, Pirate was in there, working the whole herd till they were ambling off towards the shed.

  I’d hoped Buzz would let me drive back, but he stayed where he was, issuing orders from the driving seat. ‘Shut that gate, Jake. Nick wants them over there.’ He pointed at the paddock across the race. I shut one gate and opened the other. A bloke could get sick of gates.

  Buzz drove us back a lot more quietly. ‘Doesn’t pay to upset the old girls,’ he said. He sounded as though he liked them.

  When we hit the shed, it was all go. He started off by chucking me a plastic apron to wear. I thought he was taking the piss, but he put one on too, then he started the machines and showed me how to put the cups on the first cow in the line. Then I had to do the next million while he watched to make sure I wasn’t going to stuff up.

  ‘Okay, you’re away,’ he said. ‘You do this end and I’ll do the other.’

  So on I went, feeling cack-handed and useless. He soon caught up with me, even though I’d had a head start. He did my last cow. Jeez! Nailing the handbrakey was easier than this, not that this was hard to learn. It was just full on. I got to the end of the line, ran back to where I started, only on the opposite side of the pit, whipped the cups off the first old girl, then on to the next, blah blah blah. Buzz had the music playing and I was running so hard I didn’t notice the time. I got a shock when I ran back to the start and the bail was empty.

  ‘Nearly done,’ Buzz said. ‘Not so bad, was it?’

  ‘I survived,’ I said. But it wasn’t time to celebrate freedom yet. We still had to clean up and wash down the yard. Buzz gave me the yard to do. I had visions of a broom and bucket, but these days it’s done with a pressure hose. I cleaned that yard till not a millimetre of crap was left on it.

  We took off our aprons — I was surprised to see there was crap on mine. I’d been too busy to notice before. We washed them down along with our boots. But we still hadn’t finished.

  ‘We need to shut the cows in,’ Buzz said.

  We hopped back on the quad, with Buzz in the driver’s seat. There were no cows on the race — they’d gone back faster than they came in. It’d be the thought of all that fresh grass to eat — such a boring diet.

  I closed the gate, shutting the old girls in for the night.

  ‘Want to drive?’ Buzz asked.

  I didn’t bother replying, just hopped on board. Pirate took off through the paddocks, stretching his legs.

  Milking could have its advantages.

  Gramps was waiting when we got back. I tied Pirate up and fed him while Gramps gave Buzz the third degree. ‘Think you’ll make a farmer of him, Buzz? How did he do? What about tomorrow?’

  Buzz said, ‘He’s a natural-born farmer, Gramps. No problem to Jake. Picked it up quick as.’

  Yeah yeah. Pile it on.

  We went into the shed to wash our boots again, and Buzz took a couple of envelopes down from a shelf. ‘Your pay.’

  He watched as I ripped the envelope open. Thirty-five dollars in cash. I couldn’t help myself. ‘Yahoo!’

  Buzz laughed, but said, ‘You’ve earned it. You did okay. For a beginner.’ Not quite the Excellent grade he’d told Gramps, but a pass all the same.

  On the way home I forgot about Gramps’s driving habits, I was too busy floating in happy-land. I’d earned money. Real hard cash. Even the thought that it would have to go straight into paying off the fine didn’t do much to dent how I felt.

  In the morning we filled the can with gas. While Buzz was pouring it into the car, I looked at him with new respect. ‘You get up at five this morning?’

  ‘Sure did. But why wouldn’t I? I’m now seventy bucks richer.’

  I gaped at him. ‘You got that? For helping. Like I did?’

  ‘Nah. This was a solo job. Sixteen-aside shed, so I was busy enough.’

  I couldn’t concentrate on my first couple of runs for thinking about that. Robbie wasn’t chatty either.

  Buzz came back to base and hauled himself out of the car. ‘Let’s set up the slalom again. Only this time we do it in reverse.’

  Robbie looked gloomy, but I jogged over to the cones. Reversing. No sweat. I had the knack of it, thanks to Gramps and Mum. But Robbie had possibly never got acquainted with R on the gear stick.

  We set up the course. It was Robbie’s luck to have first go at it. He crept through the fir
st two cones, jerking the wheel to get round, but then he must have got fed up, because he floored it and shot away backwards at forty-five degrees to the course. He grinned when he saw us busting our guts laughing.

  I got in, fired the engine, slipped it into reverse and moved backwards at a reasonable pace in the direction of the first cone. I was about halfway through, with three cones skittled, when I realised I was keeping my eyes on the one I was coming up to. So I tried watching ahead to where I wanted to go. But was it best to watch via the rear-vision mirror or by turning my head? By the time I’d tried both, I was at the finish with one cone standing.

  I watched Buzz. He drove with one hand on the wheel so that he could twist right around to see where he was going, but he’d forgotten about looking ahead too and knocked out six cones.

  We kept practising, with the odd blat around the paddock thrown in just to liven things up. Turned out looking over the shoulder was best.

  Robbie wasn’t his usual chatty self during the downtime when we watched Buzz getting smarter and smoother.

  At last I said, ‘What’s up? The parents still after your guts?’

  He kicked the grass and shook his head. ‘It’s not that. It’s Jayna. I haven’t heard from her since … Well, since that night.’

  I couldn’t believe it. ‘Bro, I thought she’d dumped you. Thought that’s why you were giving the beach a miss.’

  He kept on giving the grass a hard time. ‘She’ll just be waiting for me to turn up and then she’ll dump me.’

  I gave him a hefty shove. ‘Come on, man. Where’s your mojo? Go and see her. What have you got to lose?’

  Buzz came back, and it was my turn, but I needed speed. What an idiot! Just sitting around waiting for his girl to make the first move.

  I DIDN’T GET much better at the reverse slalom that day, and I had to leave early. Gramps was on a boot-buying mission.