EIGHT

Not long after that we found a mulga in the schoolroom—that’s a kind of poisonous snake, some people call it a king brown. It was only a baby so Bobbie got a spade and hacked its head off. Afterward, we all had a good look at it. It was only small, but it could kill you. After it was dead I picked it up and asked Bobbie if I could keep it. Bobbie asked what for, but I just shrugged, I didn’t want to give the game away. I guess Bobbie didn’t care what happened to the snake after it was dead, so she told us all to sit back in our places and get on with our work.

I reckon the whole of the Territory heard the Pommie’s scream that night, when she pulled back her sheets and found the headless mulga in her bed. We all ran out of the house to see what had happened. The Pommie was pressed up against the wall inside her room, scared to death, shouting, “There’s a snake in my bed!” Bobbie was there. She took one look and knew straightaway what had happened. Dad, Elliot, and Lloyd were all ready to kill whatever it was they thought was attacking the girls. Dad had his pajamas on and was carrying a rifle. Lloyd was only wearing his boxer shorts, but at least he had a baseball bat. Elliot must have been asleep when the Pommie screamed because he was holding a boot—I guess it was the first thing he’d found in the dark. When they realized what had happened Lloyd and Elliot shook their heads and wandered back to their demountable. I guess they didn’t know whether to be annoyed about being woken up, or glad they hadn’t come face-to-face with a mad axe murderer.

Dad looked at the Pommie and then at me and said, “Is this your handiwork?”

I nodded and laughed real loud and said, “Gotcha, Liz!”

The Pommie was still pretty freaked out I guess. She was holding her chest and shook her head. Dad picked up Emily and carried her back to the house. Mum reckoned we’d had enough excitement for one night and we all had to go back to bed. She said, “You OK, Liz?” as we all left. The Pommie nodded, but I could tell she was scared. I wondered how long she’d stick it at Timber Creek. The next day at brekkie we all laughed about it. I couldn’t believe it when the Pommie smiled. She said she reckoned that while she was at Timber Creek, she’d have to learn to sleep with one eye open.

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A couple of days after that, the fellas were working near the station, castrating some bulls so I was real pleased. It meant I could have a ball fight. I went on my motorbike with a bucket to get some of the balls. They were pretty squishy, kind of horrible, like something out of a horror movie. I picked up almost a whole bucketful. Elliot helped me. He’d joined in with me and Jonny once when we had a ball fight at the yards. It was the best.

I drove back to the station with the bucket hanging from the handlebars. My hands were real sticky. When I got back to the house, Emily was in the garden, I could see her running around on the other side of the washing line where there were a couple of sheets hanging out to dry. It was perfect—the sheets meant she might not see me coming, so I could throw a couple of the balls at her without her even knowing I was there.

One hit her on the chest, leaving a real ugly, bloody mark, like she’d been shot, or something. She looked down and after the initial shock she laughed and pretended to collapse onto the ground in pain. We both laughed at that. She chased after me and tried to grab some of the balls. We chased each other round the garden, throwing the balls. We hid behind the washing on the line and jumped out at each other, I used one of the plastic chairs as a shield when I ran out of ammunition. I held it over my head as I searched the ground looking for balls we’d already used, so I had some to throw back at Emily.

Playing with Emily wasn’t as good as it was with Sissy or Jonny. She didn’t throw very well and she couldn’t run very fast either, so it was easy to get her. I’d just made a perfect shot, which hit her right on the back, covering her in blood and slime, when the Pommie came round the corner from the side of the house. We hadn’t heard her coming so when she shouted “What happened?” it took us a minute to understand what she was talking about. I guess seeing Emily and me covered in blood was bad enough, but then I noticed we’d accidentally got a bit on some of the washing too. “Look at what you’ve done!” she shouted. Emily and me were laughing at first, but then I guess we both knew we were in trouble.

The Pommie threw the laundry basket she was carrying on the ground. As she got closer to the white sheets and had a good look at the dirty marks she said, “Is this blood?” She noticed one of the balls on the ground then and bent down to look at it. That’s when she said, “What is this?” Emily told her it was a ball. I reckoned the Pommie was probably thinking we meant a cricket ball, or something, so I said it was a bull’s ball, just so she understood. She looked real shocked then and said, “A what?” Then her face changed again and she smiled and said, “Oh no. No way—nice try, but you’re not going to get me this time. Very funny. Not falling for it, though.” She reckoned it was another joke.

Emily looked at me and then back at the Pommie like she’d gone mad. I opened my sticky hand and showed the Pommie the ball I was holding. I pointed at a few of the others on the ground around us and said I’d been to get them because the fellas were castrating bulls. I guess the Pommie still wasn’t sure but she came closer to where I was to get a better look at what was in my hand. I guess then she knew we were telling the truth. Her eyes filled up with water and she shook her head. She said something like “disgusting” . . . but I guess she didn’t know what to say next because she just turned round and walked away. Emily ran after her and I heard her say, “Are you crying, Liz?”

The Pommie started to run then. I looked at the bed sheets and the bloody marks on them and I felt kind of funny. I didn’t know what to do. I guess we’d made a load more work for her, but there was no need to cry about it. It was just ball blood.

The fun had kind of gone out of the ball fight then. I went into the kitchen—there was no one around, so I reckoned I’d make myself a beef sandwich. I carried the plate into my room so no one would see me eating it. Mum never liked us eating between meals. When I opened the door to my room I saw what the Pommie’d done to Jonny’s stuff and that’s when I really kicked off.

She’d been cleaning in our room.