It was the sound that made her scream. The screech of metal on metal. Then came the image again, a chaotic mash of memory, coloured red and black, and the fresh gleam of white bone winking through pink puffs of flesh.
‘You okay in there?’
Still gripping the steering wheel, she turned her head towards the sound. A man was bending over, hands on his knees, looking at her through the car window. His face was tanned with that dry richness that comes from daily exposure to the sun.
Clementine wound down her window, but her voice was stuck, soundless underneath the crush of memories. She nodded.
He rested rough, calloused hands on the window sill.
‘Cars’ll be fine. Not to worry, eh.’
She switched the engine off, cleared her throat. ‘So sorry. I just didn’t see you. Are you sure your car’s okay?’ she said, looking at him vacantly. She’d hit the rear of his van as he’d stopped to give way.
‘One corner’s a bit smaller than it was a minute ago, but it’ll blend in with the rest now.’ His grin was tempered, like he didn’t want to go to the effort of a full smile, and his three-day growth was dotted with the slightest beginnings of silver.
They were at the intersection where the main road headed back to town from the Plains. It had been a mistake to go to Clancy’s place. If she’d just kept her nose out of other people’s business this would never have happened.
Clementine reached for her handbag. ‘My name’s Jones,’ she said, holding out her licence.
He stood up and stepped back from the window, ignoring her outstretched hand. ‘Yeah, I know who you are.’
A car slowed on the crunchy gravel, pulling up alongside them. An old man leaned across and wound his passenger-side window down. ‘You folks all right?’
The man turned to him. ‘Yeah, all good, mate. Thanks.’
The old man gave a nod, raised a forefinger from the wheel in acknowledgement and pulled away.
The man walked to the front of Clementine’s car in long, easy strides, for all the world looking like nothing at all had happened. She got out and stood up on jelly legs, noticing the writing on the side of his vehicle: Dempsey’s Handyman Van.
He was inspecting the dent in the front grille near her shattered right headlight. ‘Doesn’t look too bad, but I reckon you should let me tow you home.’
Clementine joined him at the front of the car. The strong breeze blowing across the road filled her nostrils with the scent of horses in the paddock over the road.
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s fine.’
‘The car, maybe,’ he said, standing up straight and fixing her with a knowing look. ‘What about you, but?’
She assured him she was fine. He nodded and said, ‘Mmm,’ as if he knew more about her than anyone else on the planet. She looked away at the horses, folding her arms across her chest and squinting in the midday light. She wished she could be like them. All they had to do was eat, nothing more. God, they looked so peaceful in the lush grass.
‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ the man said.
‘Hang on, we need to exchange licence details and insurers,’ she called after him as he walked off.
‘Nah, no need,’ he said, climbing into his van and starting the engine. With the slightest nod of his head in her direction, he rolled off up the road, leaving her standing there in the dust.