10 a.m.
Grace had been hoping that Brett might come by the cabin again, that they might spend the day together. Lucas had headed out early; she’d just woken when she heard the ute start, and she’d been secretly pleased. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t like Brett much and if she wants to get to know him better it’ll be easier without her big brother breathing down their necks.
Despite the sulphuric stink of the water out here, she’d washed her hair, sat in the sun to let it dry, brushed it until it was shiny and even put a bit of lip gloss on. She’d sat on the step of the cabin, stretching her legs out, tanning them in the sun, listening to the birds, smelling the floodwaters – a bit gross now, the scent of mud and rotting vegetation and possibly some dead animal or bird floating on the air. But he hadn’t shown up. Typical, she thinks, laughing to herself; it’s guaranteed that if you wash your hair or shave your legs you won’t get lucky. I should have stayed grubby.
Bored of her own company now and ready for breakfast, she heads towards the pub and sees Vero sitting on the veranda at one of the outdoor tables, smoking a cigarette and drinking a Diet Coke. She has big dark circles under her eyes and looks exhausted.
‘Hi, Vero,’ she says, walking up to her. She’s not sure what you’re supposed to say to someone whose husband has been killed. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, Lucas was vague on the details, but it seems it was violent and sudden. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, adding, ‘you know, about your husband …’
Vero looks up at her, gives a half-smile, half-grimace.
‘Am I in the way?’ asks Grace. ‘Tell me to go away if you want to be alone.’
‘Nah, you’re right, darls. I could use the company. Stops me thinking about it all for a minute.’
Grace pulls out the opposite chair and they sit together, not saying much, looking out at the quiet street, no cars going past, no people in sight, the silence broken only by a bird squawking and whistling in the tree beside the pub. A fly buzzes around, lands on the can of drink. Vero draws deeply on the cigarette and exhales, leans back in the chair, closes her eyes. Grace can see Lucas’s ute and another car parked outside the little opal shop down the road but there’s no sight of him or Blair. As she watches, Ginger appears in the ute’s tray back, where she must have been lying down. She looks out towards the shop, then turns a few circles and disappears again, back to sleep, no doubt.
Out of nowhere Grace’s stomach gives a loud growl. Vero opens her eyes and looks over at her and she laughs, embarrassed. ‘Oh my god, that was my stomach. I guess I need to eat something. Do you wanna come to the gas station with me for a coffee?’
‘Yeah, why not,’ says Vero, leaning over and crushing the butt of her cigarette in a red plastic ashtray.
They walk down the steps and onto the dusty verge that runs alongside the empty main street, flies following in their wake, the sun beating hot on their heads.
‘Vero! Hey! Where’re you off to?’ Grace turns to see Susie standing at the door of the pub. She’s wearing a simple vest top and jeans, boxy and sitting low on her hips, a man’s cut, thinks Grace. The androgynous look suits her, with her short spiky hair and solid frame. Vero ignores her, keeps walking, lost in her grief probably, in her own thoughts.
Grace feels like she has to say something. ‘We’re going for a coffee. Do you wanna come too?’ she calls, but Susie doesn’t answer, simply turns and shuts the door of the pub behind her with a slam.
Grace takes a couple of big steps to catch up with Vero. ‘I think Susie’s upset,’ she says.
‘Probably,’ says Vero. ‘It’s because of you. She gets jealous sometimes. She doesn’t like me having other friends. I’ve been staying with her – I don’t want to go home after everything that’s happened – but now it’s like she thinks she owns me.’
They’re almost at the gas station when Lucas drives up, toots his horn and waves as he pulls up beside them.
‘All good, sis?’ he says, and she nods. ‘How are you doing, Vero?’
‘Awful,’ she says. ‘I still can’t believe it. I keep thinking that I’ll go home and Mark’ll be there, boring me silly about bloody opals.’ Her face pales and she looks like she’s going to cry, her lip trembling. ‘I haven’t been back to the house yet. I can’t face it.’
‘I reckon it might be better if you stay at the pub for a while anyway,’ says Lucas. ‘Just till we know what’s happened.’
She looks up at him, her eyes wide. ‘You don’t think I’m in danger, do you?’
‘Nah, nah,’ he says. ‘But someone trashed Mark’s workshop last night so to be on the safe side it’s better to be cautious. And it can be tough being on your own after something like this. If Susie doesn’t mind …’
‘Susie won’t mind,’ says Vero. ‘But I’ve got no clothes. Is it safe to go home and pick up some things?’
‘Why don’t I take you?’ suggests Lucas. ‘I’ve got an hour spare, and I can make sure you’re alright.’
Grace is about to ask if she can come too but he says, ‘Will you be OK on your own for a half-hour, sis?’
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘I’ll go and have a coffee.’
‘Righto, I’ll meet you at the servo in a bit.’
The gas station is cool, the air conditioning welcome. Even on this winter morning the sun is strong; she felt it burning her arms and the top of her head as they walked up from the pub. The sun isn’t as harsh as this in Boston, even in summer. If there was anywhere to shop, she’d buy some sunscreen and a cute hat too. It would drive Ashley crazy here – she loves to shop, to spend the day at the mall, eating out, catching a movie. There’s not a single store here and nowhere to eat except this gas station and the pub, nothing fun to do. It’s kind of cool to visit for a day but how do people live out here? She’d go crazy from boredom herself after a week.
She orders a coffee and the breakfast wrap, takes a seat looking out across the car park, keeping an eye out for Lucas coming back or maybe Brett. Two trucks, the kind Lucas calls utes, pull up in the car park. Paul, the owner of the gas station, gets out of one, the burly mechanic Scott from the other. They’re both stern-faced and purposeful as they stride towards the entrance, but what surprises her most is that both of them are carrying guns. Long-barrelled rifles, held firmly in their hands.