Dettie had put Sam up front with her again, and was telling him about the trip she and Uncle Ted had taken across Western Australia for their honeymoon.
‘And it was just like this,’ she was saying. ‘We’d drive and drive, and stop if we saw something. And at night we’d fall asleep in the first hotel that we came to. We didn’t map it all out, you see. We just went. Like us now.’ She lifted her fingers from the steering wheel, holding on underneath with her thumbs. The road raced towards her open palms. ‘Like explorers,’ she said. ‘That’s how Ted described us. He said your aunty was an explorer. He always said funny things like that.’
Sam wasn’t paying attention, but he kept nodding. He was concentrating on the conversation Jon and Katie were having behind him. Jon was telling her all about England, about their money and their black taxicabs. About his two pet dogs—Yorkies—who had proper little stuck-up British barks, he said. About all the different kinds of slang they used at home.
‘Bollocks,’ he said. ‘That’s another one. See, if you know that someone’s telling you fibs, and you want to let them know, you say, “That’s bollocks,” or “You’re full of bollocks.”’
Katie giggled. ‘Bollocks,’ she said, slowly, plopping out the word on her tongue.
‘And if that person is really thick—you know, stupid—you can call them a berk.’
Dettie’s head jerked. Her lips were pursed as she strained to listen. ‘What on earth are you teaching her back there?’ she called.
Jon looked up and grinned. ‘Nothing, love. Nothing. Just telling her more about the mother country.’
Tugging some slack in her seatbelt, Katie sat forward. ‘I know what bollocks are,’ she said.
Dettie clicked her tongue. ‘Well, I need to concentrate now,’ she said. ‘So if everyone back there could just settle down.’
Her eyes were bulging in their sockets, and when she blinked, her face tightened around them. Sam would catch her starting to yawn, but then cover it up by biting her lip.
For another hour they drove without talking, the trees and the bushes lining the roads getting drier and more withered the further they went. They were actually in Western Australia now, heading towards its capital city, as Dettie kept reminding them. It was hard to imagine what the definition of a city even was anymore. Each town they passed through seemed smaller than the last, hugging the road for a few hundred metres before dissolving away in the distance. Cars seemed to be kicking more dust into the air behind them, and for a while they followed a tourist bus that belched black fumes Sam could taste through the air vents. Above him, the paddle-pop stick boomerang shuddered almost imperceptibly, turning in slow circles. When he got especially bored, he scanned the dashboard, looking over the knobs and dials, settling finally on the radio. He sat forward and flicked it on, raising the volume.
‘—fears that without further information forthcoming on the location of those who have disappeared—’
Dettie muffled a yell and slapped the radio quiet with her palm. ‘We might leave that off for the rest of today, sweetie.’ She chewed her lips. ‘My headache and all.’
Sighing, Sam flopped back in his seat and watched the last ribbons of cloud dissolve beneath the sun. Out in a distant field, thin sheep meandered through the latticework of shade cast by a lone, half-dead tree. They passed another exit, leading off to a town called Madura, where several cars appeared to be pulled up together for a picnic. A sign telling them to Slow Down whipped by, followed by another, larger sandwich board that read: Random Breath Testing Ahead. Suddenly, Sam could feel the car slowing down. Dettie’s breath was starting to quicken. When he looked over, he saw that she was shaking, slumping in her seat, staring at another large sign as it approached them along the road.
It read: PREPARE TO STOP.
A car soon overtook them, and when the truck behind began blaring its horn, weaving across the road, Jon leant over. ‘Everything good up there, love?’ he asked. ‘People seem to think we’re dawdling.’
Dettie was gaping at the road ahead. She murmured, ‘There’s just a—’ Her eyes flashed along the edges of the road. She wasn’t blinking. ‘There’s a stop. Up there. For drink driving. Breath tests.’
Jon ran his hand over his beard. He chuckled. ‘What’s the matter? You nip off to the bar when we weren’t looking? Had a couple of pints?’
The car was moving so slow, veering across the gravel, that the truck sped around them too, beeping furiously. Their motor sputtered, and Dettie’s head jerked as she scanned the highway ahead. Another truck thundered past and Sam could feel the wind of it shake the car.
Jon was still smiling, but his voice had a slight quiver. ‘Love, I think we might want to go a touch faster now, eh?’
In the distance, Sam slowly made out the shape of a parked vehicle and two figures waving down traffic. Dettie saw them too and the car rattled off the bitumen and into the dirt.
Katie squealed. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Nothing, honey,’ Jon hushed. ‘We’re just—what, love?’ He tapped Dettie on the shoulder. ‘Engine trouble? Petrol?’
‘Police,’ Dettie whispered.
The hush and scrape of earth being kicked up by their wheels went on beneath them. Jon looked puzzled. He started to laugh but the sound faded away.
‘Mummy says to do what the policeman tells you.’ Katie’s voice was tight.
‘Shut up,’ Dettie snapped. ‘I don’t want to hear about your mother right now.’
‘Love,’ Jon said. ‘She just—’
‘Shh. Quiet.’
The remains of Jon’s smile hung on a little awkwardly. He glanced from Sam, to Katie, to the flashing lights up ahead, and his eyes widened. When he realised Sam was peering back at him he forced an unconvincing smirk.
The car skidded to a stop. A cloud of dust rose beside Sam’s window and Dettie twisted around. She set the car in reverse and drove backward a hundred metres or so. An oncoming car swerved around them, honking. Katie screamed.
Jon was holding her hands. ‘It’s okay, love. It’s all right.’
They reached a kink in the highway, out of sight, and Dettie skidded, wrestling the car into first gear, and U-turned swiftly onto the opposite lane. Panting, her eyes flashing to each mirror, she sped back the way they had come. The engine howled. The police faded from view. The paddle-pop stick boomerang swung awkwardly, slapping the glass.