As Lucy began to write out the tickets, the old man called to some of his mates at the bar, ‘Here, Pop, Midgee, I’ve found the catch of the day!’ Turning back to Lucy, he asked, ‘Where you from, darling?’
‘Charlotte’s Creek . . . I mean, Sydney.’ Lucy paused in her writing and looked up. ‘Actually, I’m from Sydney, but I’m working at Charlotte’s Creek.’
‘You sure now?’ He cocked his head. ‘My good looks making you nervous, darling? Happens all the time.’ Lucy laughed again and he grinned. ‘Now I can place you, Stumpy told me about you.’ He replaced his hat. ‘Harry Black’s my name, in case my reputation hasn’t made me known to you.’ With another smile he ambled off.
The ticket-selling ended up occupying most of the day, but Lucy didn’t mind a bit. Although Ted didn’t reappear, she had a steady stream of people to chat to, and was surprised by how many faces were familiar to her. Her post near the bar was a wonderful vantage point from which to observe all the colourful characters coming and going. She took only the occasional sip from her beer, because as soon as her glass was less than half full, another drink would appear in front of her from one of several rugged gentlemen toasting her from a distance.
People continued to arrive throughout the day. Lucy spotted Bri and Tash, and was surprised at the friendliness of their greeting. As the day wore on, she saw the McCanns, the Keenes, old Mollie and her Johns, and Cynthia Tyrrell with her son Cliff, along with many of her other CWA acquaintances, all of whom greeted her warmly. Dennis and the kids arrived in the afternoon, Mel having stayed at Charlotte’s Creek with a teething Henry. The twins gave shrill shrieks at the sight of Lucy. Everyone was unanimously liberal with their funds, and by noon the calico bag had begun to bulge at the seams. Pearly rushed by at three o’clock; horrified to see Lucy still sitting there, she seized the bag of money and insisted that she call it a day.
Released from her duties, Lucy walked over towards the horse barriers and looked hopefully around for Ted, but there was no sign of him anywhere. The heat, flies and noise soon drove her away again and she decided to take up an offer Piers had made earlier and have a shower at the pub before the night-time rush.
Afterwards, feeling refreshed, Lucy turned away from the crowds and went down to the Copperfield River. Finding a less steep section of bank just beyond the outskirts of the town, she sat with her book on a rock embedded in a drift of white sand, to use the last of the light. Ted came and found her there.
‘Old Harry spotted you climbing over the bank. Told me where to find you,’ Ted began a little anxiously. ‘You had a good day then?’
Lucy nodded.
‘Sorry I had to leave you by yourself,’ Ted said gruffly. ‘They’re bloody short-handed, as always.’
The light was fading, and Ted took Lucy’s hand and helped her to scramble up the riverbank. He continued to hold it as they strolled back to the graveyard, discussing the events of the day. But once they reached the ute, Ted seemed suddenly fretful and distracted. He dropped Lucy’s hand, then took hold of it again, looking down into her face searchingly. Meeting his eyes, Lucy waited for a minute or so for him to speak, but when he said nothing, she pulled away. Feeling strangely weary and perplexed, she said goodnight and retreated to her swag.
Chapter 36
Easter Sunday dawned chilly and clear. Before Lucy opened her eyes, she could hear the happy squeals of roaming children, anticipating a day of fun. She and Ted were still in their swags when the four West children discovered their whereabouts and pounded towards them through the dewy grass.
‘See, Billie?’ Cooper was saying. ‘Mum was wrong when she said Lucy wouldn’t be needing her swag. She didn’t bunk in with Ted at all!’
A minute later the four children were lined up beside Lucy’s resting form, demanding camp-oven popcorn for breakfast. A muffled growl came from the direction of Ted’s swag, but they took no notice.
‘I didn’t bring any popcorn,’ Lucy murmured, still half asleep.
‘But we did!’ yelled Wade. ‘We knew you’d most likely be needing it.’
Lucy groaned.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll rustle up a fire,’ Cooper said. ‘We’ve already got the sticks.’
Lucy opened one eye and saw that the children were indeed laden with sticks, except for Molly, who was holding a packet of popcorn and a large wad of toilet paper. Lucy pushed herself up on one elbow, and watched in amusement as Cooper, using the toilet paper and some tiny twigs, coaxed the larger, damper sticks into flame. Ted got up silently and boiled the billy and Lucy was glad of the children’s happy presence as she sipped her tea and nibbled some of the burnt popcorn.
Easter Sunday was Family Day at Einasleigh Races, and it passed in a blur of hilarity. The younger kids’ events and games were up first, giving all the little ones a turn while they were still fresh. There were heads and tails, target practice, limbo, balloon races, egg and spoon, three-legged races, and face painting on the sidelines. A bucking barrel had been strung up to one side of the rodeo ring for the poddy-calf-riding hopefuls, and even some toddlers were permitted to practise on it. Lucy helped wherever she could, glad to be busy and distracted, but she caught Ted watching her on several occasions, and he seemed as disconcerted as she was, each time their eyes met.
The rooster chases were up next. The first bird shot into the centre of the race circuit like a feathered dart, with at least eighty children streaking along behind him. One child suffered a tumble, and several others went down behind her like dominoes. The rooster lost quite a few tail feathers before he was ultimately captured by a lanky boy aged in his early teens, who held the outraged bird jubilantly above his head. The second rooster managed to make it through the barrier and into the wilderness on the other side, the children spilling over the fences in pursuit and disappearing off into the scrub. None of the parents seemed the slightest bit concerned, and several minutes later the returning mob was sighted, led by Cooper’s friend Josh Keene, clutching the rooster nonchalantly under one arm. Lucy looked at the ecstasy on the faces of the children and then recalled in bewilderment her pitifully tame, ten-minute horseshoe hunt in Sydney, and the paperwork and other rigmarole that had been necessary to get it off the ground.
To Lucy’s amazement Ted was in the thick of it, his usual reserve set aside in his enthusiastic setting up of the games. He was adept at giving some of the younger contestants subtle assistance in the tournaments, helping them hold their own against the bigger kids. Judging by the comments from some of her fellow spectators, Lucy concluded that his involvement in the games was a yearly tradition.
Lucy and Ted joined the Wests and some of the other families for a late barbecue lunch. While they were eating, Lucy heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter, and spotted Adam’s navy blue and silver aircraft approaching in the distance. It distracted her for a moment from the conversation she’d been listening to among the men. Lackey and Dennis were working on Ted, doing their best to persuade him to stay at Einasleigh another night and help in the rodeo yards the following day.
‘We need you there, Goldy,’ Lackey was saying. ‘Blokes who know what they’re doing are light on the ground this year, and Westy here will be half cut by morning smoko.’
Ted looked helplessly at Lucy. ‘You would’ve had enough of this caper by now, wouldn’t you?’ he asked.
‘It’s up to you,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m happy to stay if you want to. I’ve never seen a rodeo.’
‘Have to stay now, Goldy,’ Dennis chuckled. ‘Happy wife, happy life.’
The sun was low in the sky when Ted and Lucy walked back through the town. More vehicles were arriving, many of them utes, heavily hotted up in western style.
‘Can you smell me yet?’ Ted asked Lucy. ‘If we’re staying another night I’d better scab a shower from the pub. I reckon it’s getting urgent.’
Lucy had another shower too and met Ted coming out of the bathroom with a whiff of soap, looking thoroughly scrubbed and handsome, his wet
hair slicked back neatly. Afterwards, as they came down the rickety stairs from the upstairs floor of the pub, they could hear much merriment in the bar. Walking along the hall, Lucy touched Ted’s arm. ‘Shall we just duck in and visit the miniatures?’ she asked.
In answer, Ted turned the handle of the dining room door. After flicking on the light, he led the way in. They stood side by side and gazed.
‘Aren’t they adorable?’ Lucy breathed.
‘A lot of bloody fiddly mucking round to build, I’d reckon,’ Ted observed, looking for a moment at his own huge rough hands, as though wondering how the mechanics of such a task were even possible. ‘But they’re impressive, all right.’
Piers came to join them for a moment, and Lucy marvelled at the miniatures anew. Loud laughter floated across the hall from the bar.
‘Better get back to it,’ Piers said. ‘C’mon, I’ll get you a couple of beers.’ The publican strode back across the dim hall, then jostled his way into the bar. Lucy looked at Ted, but he only shrugged good-naturedly before leading the way through the noisy throng towards the crowded bar.
On their way past the pool table, Lucy spotted the policeman who’d come out to Charlotte’s Creek the year before, and he lifted one finger to acknowledge her. Then she found herself next to Adam, who was perched on a bar stool. She was immediately nervous, but he smiled in genuine delight to see her, all his former annoyance apparently forgotten, and politely introduced her to his two mates, Itchy and Bibs. Itchy was as gangly, tall and brown as Bibs was short, pink and tubby, and they grinned back at her and nodded to Ted in a way that suggested they’d already heard quite a bit about them both.
Piers reached over the bar with the beers. As Ted dug in his wallet, Adam began to duck and dodge, batting the air with his hands.
‘What the hell’s wrong with you, Hoodlum?’ asked Piers, taking Ted’s money.
‘I’m just dodging all the moths that flew out of Goldy’s wallet,’ Adam said, with a smirk. Itchy and Bibs roared with laughter, and even Ted gave a low chuckle. He picked up the drinks and passed one to Lucy, then led her away from the bar.
‘Oi, Flipper, don’t trip up on a stool, will you?’ Adam called loudly after them. ‘The end of one of those big dress boots might hook up on one!’
Ignoring Adam and holding tight to their drinks, Lucy and Ted weaved their way through the throng to a relatively quiet corner.
Lucy was thoroughly sick of beer by now, but she took a sip and began to observe the crowd. They ranged in age from the very old to the suspiciously young; regardless of their social standing, nearly everyone was wearing jeans. Mostly they wore blue denim, some tatty and well worn, while others were expensively labelled and spotlessly pressed. An array of leather belts lent a touch of individuality to the uniform, adorned with enormous brass buckles or western-style bling. Lucy realised with a smile that she’d been mistaken in thinking she’d come far enough away from the city to escape the jeans connoisseurs.
She looked up at Ted and found him observing her surreptitiously. He smiled back at her but didn’t ask what she’d been thinking. He was such restful company; she could relax without the fear of being judged.
A few minutes later, an expectant murmur started up and people began to flow out of the building.
‘Fireworks,’ Ted explained.
Except for Adam and his friends, and a small group at the pool table, Lucy and Ted now had the pub to themselves. The air cooled and Ted exhaled with relief.
‘Not a fan of crowds,’ he said in answer to Lucy’s enquiring look. ‘Rather be by myself any day.’
‘Me too,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I’ve never been much of a socialite.’ She glanced across at Adam, who was still seated at the bar, entertaining his friends at top volume.
‘I’d have thought you might like having lots of people around,’ Ted remarked. ‘What with you being a townie and all.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Not everyone in the city likes crowds. A city can actually be one of the loneliest places on earth—surrounded by people, but all of them strangers.’
Just then Adam called out, ‘Hey, Lucy! When you’ve had enough of Flipper’s awesome conversation, you can come over and listen to a few of my yarns.’
‘Thanks, Adam,’ Lucy replied. ‘But I can hear you well enough from here.’
‘And what do you think of my yarning?’ Adam leaned forward on his stool, as if eagerly awaiting her judgement.
‘Oh, it’s riveting!’
Adam laughed loudly, stood up and took a bow. Then he sat back down, his face serious again. ‘I’ve got plenty more stories I can tell you quietly. They’re riveting too.’
Lucy felt Ted stiffen beside her.
‘I’ll even send Itchy and Bibs packing if you’d rather a little privacy,’ Adam added.
‘Oi, who’re you sending packing?’ objected Itchy.
‘And we might just have to kick your arse for you, Hoodlum,’ Bibs grumbled indignantly. ‘I reckon you need it.’
They all laughed, but then Lucy thought she noticed a trace of humiliation tainting Adam’s cocky grin. He ordered another rum and downed it in one gulp.
The distinctive thumping of fireworks began outside. Lucy and Ted watched them through the window, talking quietly, but again Adam interrupted. ‘Flipper must have some hidden talents, I reckon.’ He looked at Itchy beside him. ‘Lady Lucy’s so keen on him. Might have a secret weapon in his pants, eh?’
‘Yeah!’ Bibs spluttered on the edge of his glass.
‘If his boot size is anything to go by!’ Itchy added, before exploding with laughter at his own joke.
Lucy felt herself redden in mortification. As she glanced angrily across at Adam, she saw that he was looking intently at Ted, clearly bothered by the fact that he’d failed to ruffle the poker-faced stockman. There was a short silence with only the popping of gunpowder outside. Ted drained his glass and shifted a little as though keen to make a move, but Adam clearly wasn’t finished yet. This time he addressed Lucy, his speech now distinctly slurred.
‘Or do you make him keep his pants on too, Lady Lucy?’
Lucy looked away uncomfortably. She was grateful when Itchy and Bibs came to the rescue with more mindless jests.
Ted leaned closer to Lucy and spoke quietly. ‘Might be a good time to make tracks.’ He picked up his hat.
Lucy nodded and stood up, leaving her beer virtually untouched. They stopped at the bar to take leave of Piers, but when they turned towards the door, Adam was standing in their path. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and took hold of Lucy’s arm before looking back at Ted, his eyes full of resentment. ‘Not in your road, am I, mate?’ he asked with false brightness.
Ted met his eye coldly but said nothing.
‘What’s the matter, Teddy?’ Adam taunted, pulling Lucy a little closer. ‘Getting too hot for you in here?’ Lucy withdrew her arm and stepped away. Adam looked suddenly hurt, and Itchy and Bibs, slouched on their stools, looked on with surprised interest.
‘Let’s go, Ted.’ Lucy tugged at the ringer’s shirtsleeve.
But Adam’s sting had returned. He stepped closer to Ted. ‘Don’t you know how to stick up for your woman, mate?’
‘Now now, boys!’ Piers warned, looking anxious. As she glanced around, Lucy noticed Constable Cox getting to his feet from the group near the pool table.
‘Just taking the mickey, Piers,’ Adam said without taking his eyes off Ted. ‘All in good fun. You know Flipper. He doesn’t fight, does he? Don’t think he can.’
‘Lucky for you, I reckon, Hoodlum,’ Piers muttered, collecting a handful of Adam’s empty glasses. ‘Only reason why you’re still standing there mouthing off.’
At this point, Lucy, who’d seen enough, strode around the pair of glaring men and headed for the door, hoping Ted would follow. But at the sound of a sudden scuffle behind her she turned back in horror.
Adam was on the ground, his hand over his mouth, blood streaming between his fingers. Ted was standing over him,
his right fist clenched and his eyes glinting with an uncharacteristic aggression that shocked Lucy. As she watched, he straightened up and put on his hat, which he held in his left hand.
The Senior Constable walked towards the bar. ‘What’s the story here, Piers?’ he asked.
‘Hoodlum just needed his gob shutting, that’s all,’ Piers said. ‘Been wanting it for a good half hour or more.’
Adam clambered to his feet. Piers passed him a tea towel with some ice wrapped in it and the chopper pilot pressed it to his cheek.
‘You all right, then?’ the policeman asked, looking at Adam narrowly. To Lucy it looked as though this wasn’t the first time the policeman had encountered Hoodlum.
‘I’ll live,’ Adam mumbled.
‘Yeah well,’ the policeman began, looking at Ted now. ‘Don’t go shutting anyone else’s gob tonight, righto? Or I’ll have you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Ted spoke respectfully.
The policeman seemed to decide to test him further. ‘It’s Senior Constable to you.’
‘Yes, Senior Constable.’ Ted met the officer’s eye with his usual direct look.
Seeming to read the honesty in it, the policeman gave him a brisk nod before returning to the pool table. Ted walked towards Lucy, who was trembling all over; then, turning at the door, he looked back at Adam. Adam grinned ghoulishly from behind the towel, his anger apparently forgotten. ‘Cheers, mate,’ he said, his words slightly muffled by the towel.
Ted tipped his hat at Adam before walking out of the pub with a shaken and bewildered Lucy close beside him.
Lucy was too tired to really enjoy the rodeo on the Monday. She’d slept badly after the events at the pub, lying awake in the shadowy graveyard and wondering whether she was to blame for the bad feeling between the two men. She was also tired of the crowds; as friendly as everyone was, she didn’t really feel akin to them, and she was looking forward to returning to the haven of her little cottage.
Charlotte's Creek Page 32
