TEN

When I heard a thudding sound, I wasn’t sure if it was my feet, my heart, or him. I breathed slowly to make myself as quiet as I could and then listened for a sign he was with me. I knew that if I lost Buzz I’d have nothing.

When I opened my eyes, it felt like someone did it for me because I couldn’t believe what I saw. There, by my side, was Buzz, acting like everything was normal, so I swallowed my excitement and pretended it was a day like any other.

As we went back to the station yard, Dad stepped out of the open barn where he was working. He tipped his hat back to have a good look as Buzz and me walked past, shoulder to shoulder. The look on his face told me he was impressed. Noticing something different was happening, the fellas stopped what they were doing too. Elliot gave me a nod. I felt like I had something they all wanted.

When I got to the calves’ pen, it was real quiet. The Pommie was round the other side feeding them, so I opened the gate for Buzz and wondered if he’d go in on his own. He hesitated. I opened the gate wider, so we could go through together. He liked that. I rubbed his neck and behind his ears until he purred.

The Pommie saw us and I could tell she didn’t know what to do. We looked at each other for a bit, before she said, “I love Buzz’s knees.” I don’t think anyone had ever admired his knees before. Mum always went on about his eyelashes and Dad laughed at how his fur was like Aunty Veronica’s hair after the disastrous perm. When I looked down at his knees, they made me smile.

After that the Pommie said, “I’m sorry about Jonny . . . He sounds like he was a great brother.” I guess Bobbie or someone had told her everything, so I said it was OK. I felt stupid, like when your flies are down. I looked at the ground for a bit and kicked at the dirt, as I tried to think what to say. Then the Pommie said she was going to go and feed the pigs. When she’d gone I gave Buzz his milk.

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The Pommie didn’t look at me at the dinner table that night and so I tried not to look at her either. But I wondered what she was thinking. When Dad was talking about Jaben Point, the Pommie asked where it was. Dad told her it was about ten miles south of the station—a rock that stuck up out of the desert. It was the highest point on our station and you could climb up it and get a view of the whole of the desert. That made me realize she didn’t really know where anything was. She’d only seen the house and the yard, the poddies, Buzz, the chooks, and the pigs. The Pommie hadn’t dobbed us in about the ball fight and the bed sheets, and I guess it wasn’t her fault nobody had told her about Jonny. I reckoned I owed her one. I said I’d take her to Jaben Point the next day, if she wanted. She looked kind of surprised, like she didn’t expect me to be nice to her. Dad said that was a real good idea. The Pommie shrugged and said she’d like to see it. I smiled at her and she smiled back.

So the next day, after I’d spent some time with Buzz and the Pommie had finished all her chores, I went to get the Old Rover.

The Old Rover was the station Land Rover. He was ancient, but real reliable, which was kind of how he got his name—he’d been roving around the station forever. He only had two seats and the one on the passenger side looked like the springy ghost of the seat that once sat there. The Pommie didn’t complain about it, though. Emily would have. The only problem with the Old Rover was his steering wheel. The black stuff that covered the metal, Dad called it Bakelite, was all cracked, so when you gripped it, it pinched your skin. There was quite a knack to steering because of that.

The Pommie couldn’t believe I could drive. I told her all of us could. Even Emily could ride a motorbike. The Pommie wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not, but eventually, after I swore on Buzz’s life that I was telling the truth, she said she believed me. She was amazed. She said it had taken her more than forty hours of lessons to learn to drive, and even then she failed her driving test twice. I could believe that.

As we headed out to Jaben Point, the Pommie kept taking pictures—just of the desert. When we saw a couple of big reds, she turned round so far in the passenger seat as she tried to take as many pictures as she could that I thought she was going to fall out. I dunno what else was so interesting, but she kept clicking away. She seemed to be taking pictures of the dirt track in front of us and the scrub at either side—the witchetty bushes, I guess. I asked her about it and she said it was because if she didn’t take pictures of everything no one at home in England would believe where she was. I dunno why.

We turned off the dirt road and the Pommie saw Jaben Point rising out of the desert in front of us. She made me stop while she took some photos of me in the Old Rover with the point sticking into the sky behind me. She reckoned no one in England would believe a thirteen-year-old could drive, either.

When we got to where the fellas were working, Dad said I should let the Pommie drive back to the station. He reckoned it’d be good for her to get used to driving the Old Rover, so when the muster started she’d be able to take their lunch to the desert for them. I shrugged and jumped out so she could slide across from the passenger seat. She turned the key in the ignition and then stalled it twice in front of all the fellas. I looked up and saw Lloyd smile and shake his head. I’ve never heard a gearbox make the noises the Old Rover’s did that day.

When the Pommie finally found first gear, I reckon she was so glad to have found it, she didn’t want to change it again. The engine screamed and the wheels skidded on the dusty ground. Where it was sandy, it was real easy to skid. Eventually she worked out what the gear stick was for and slowly we started to move forward without the engine sounding like it was going to explode. I felt sorry for the Old Rover.

We got to the top of the rise, near the point, where there are fewer trees and the spinifex is real patchy. That’s where the dirt track meets the dirt road. You can turn north to Timber Creek, or go south to Warlawurru. The view from there is pretty good. You can see for miles across the desert—the orange ground all patchy with pale-green and brown bushes and trees, and the odd lighter patch where there are rocks.

I was busy looking at the line where the sky meets the desert and wondering how far away it was, when I realized the Pommie was driving the wrong way. I asked her where she was going. She shouted back, “The station!” And when she saw the look on my face, like she’d totally lost it, she added, “I don’t know; everything looks the same to me.” I couldn’t believe that. We’d only just come from the station, but she couldn’t find her way back there. How dumb’s that?

I told Dad about it later on and he said, “Makes you wonder how they found Australia in the first place.”

She was concentrating real hard on driving, so we didn’t say much. When we got back to the station, the Pommie braked hard, but forgot to use the clutch, so the Old Rover stalled. The sharp movement made my neck hurt. I said to her I reckoned she could do with a few more driving lessons. She nodded and smiled. I dunno why, but as we walked across the yard to the house, I said I was sorry Emily and me had made a mess of the clean bed sheets with the bull balls. I said we didn’t mean to. It was just a game. The Pommie shrugged. Then she said, “I guess you have to make your own fun out here—it’s not like you can go to the park or the cinema or anything. I bet you and Jonny played some great games together.”

I couldn’t catch my breath. No one talked about Jonny like that, like he was ordinary. I had to use my inhaler. Then for some reason I opened my mouth to speak and I heard myself telling her about the time Dad found Jonny’s cricket ball. It was about a month after the accident. Dad went up on the roof to fix the gutter. He wanted to make sure we were ready if the rains came. While he was up there he found the ball. It was stuck between the gutter and the house. Mum and I were at the bottom holding the ladder. Dad stood very still up there, clutching the ball against his chest. They told me to go and help Emily feed the chooks, but that’s not a job for two people. I guess Mum and Dad just wanted to be alone with the ladder and Jonny’s cricket ball.

The Pommie listened and then said, “Bobbie told me Jonny fell off the roof, right?” I didn’t look at her. I just nodded. She held the fly screen open for me and we went into the dining room. The Pommie looked at me for a moment, like she was going to say something else, but changed her mind.