It was Sunday morning and Jeremy had woken up clear-headed. It was all wrong. He should have been feeling like death warmed up after a night of partying. And so he would have been if it wasn’t for that new bugger of a senior constable.
The long-serving town policeman, Constable Aaron Hill, had recently moved away. A fair-minded and friendly middle-aged officer, Aaron had known when to bend the rules to common sense. His replacement was one Senior Constable Justin Glover, a tall stern man in his late twenties and a stickler for the rules. He had no interest in gaining friends in the town, and Jeremy reckoned he was using his remote placement merely as a stepping stone to greater glory.
Within his first fortnight, Glover had had Jed O’Donnell earmarked. He easily identified Jeremy’s weekend drinking routine and habit of heading back to Redstone early in the morning, once he’d sobered up. It wasn’t long before Jeremy had lost his driver’s licence for being slightly over the limit, three times in a row. He knew Senior Constable Glover would be on the lookout to catch him driving again, so things were looking grim.
Olive was clearly pleased; Jeremy supposed she was happy to have him confined to Redstone and safe from the evils of town. She lectured him about the ‘wholesome’ forms of entertainment that had been popular when she was a girl. Many homesteads still had the remains of makeshift tennis courts, usually consisting of a fenced rectangle with a playing surface of crushed termite mound. These days, the Redstone tennis court was used as a nursery for the poddy calves, the old netting fence keeping them safe from dingoes. Olive also told him how the young men of her day had ridden their horses for hours, sometimes days, to attend dances at the local halls. Then there were Sunday cricket matches, where batters and fielders ranged in age from the very young to the very old. Some of the high-society ladies had even tried to hold English-style garden parties, complete with bone china cups and saucers and polished silver cutlery.
‘Jeez, I wish I was around when you were a girl, Mrs Day,’ Jeremy had responded cheekily.
For a few weeks Jeremy hadn’t minded the change to his routine. He certainly didn’t miss the start-of-the-week disease. But everyone seemed to be occupied on weekends except for himself. Alice was always busy poring over the books in the office, or handling her animals. Sometimes he helped her work the weaners, but she and her dogs seemed to have some sort of telepathy, to the point where he and Ace often felt they were intruding.
Sam had adopted the habit of resting more on weekends, dozing at the table or stretched out in the old squatter’s chair on the veranda; Jeremy didn’t like to wake him. And, of course, Olive was always busy with some consuming task, doing the books, cleaning, sewing or cooking.
To while away the time, Jeremy began to do some solitary weekend fencing. He also tinkered with the machines in the shed, and even tried doing the morning milking for Olive on Saturdays and Sundays. But the house cow always seemed miffed at the sight of him and never let her milk down properly. Sometimes he went hunting for pigs and other vermin, but these occasions lacked the thrill of his wild pig-chasing weekends with beer-drinking friends. He also began to miss the attention of his girls, his adoring fans who were always so easily impressed.
This Sunday, as he lay there thinking of the day ahead and listening to Alice hosing the windscreen of the ‘town car’ in preparation for the weekly pilgrimage to church, he came to a decision. He jumped out of bed and pulled on some jeans and a shirt. He’d catch a ride to town. There was bound to be someone still about.
Alice drove and Sam sat in the back with Jeremy. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Olive worked on her crochet, and sniffed with disapproval when Jeremy asked to be dropped off at the pub.
‘Come in and get me when you’re ready, Alice,’ he called happily over his shoulder as he headed for the dilapidated building on the main street.
He swung the heavy door open wide. The Swiss cowbell on the lintel announcing his arrival, he walked in like a conquering hero returning from a crusade, and was greeted as such by a mob of hung-over youths who were partaking in the hair of the dog. It was their usual Sunday morning service, and Jed hadn’t been keeping the Sabbath. A few of them cheered and he received several congratulatory slaps on the back.
In no time he was seated on his usual barstool with four shouted drinks lined up in front of him. He gulped down two immediately, trying not to notice how dingy the smoky room looked to him now. The place was a dive.
Jeremy sat for over half an hour listening to his mates talk and doing his best to join in. Somehow their usual mindless chatter didn’t interest him today. He downed another drink. Nothing worse than being sober in a mob of drunk people.
‘Where’s Hammerhead?’ he asked, looking around for old Martin Hammerli, the Swiss publican. The sight of the calm old man and his quizzical smile was always reassuring. Then he remembered. ‘What am I thinking? He never works Sundays.’
The most attractive of the girls, Brandi Hogan, soon began trying to get his attention by kissing the back of his neck and running her fingers through his hair. When this failed, she used the rung of the barstool like a stirrup to mount him. Straddling his lap and facing him, she engulfed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then she kissed his forehead, presenting him with her overflowing cleavage.
Then Brandi leaned back unsteadily and put one hand on Jeremy’s cheek. The other pressed a cold can onto the nape of his neck. She giggled as he half caught her, preventing the backwards topple. Lurching back towards him, she breathed hot rum and smoke into his face and he looked at the caked and smeared make-up that obscured her naturally pretty features. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were bloodshot. She screeched and wobbled again, then, suddenly serious, looked into his eyes seductively.
‘I’ve missed you, Jeddy.’
Unable to honestly return the sentiment, he said evasively, ‘Yeah, it’s a dry old camp out at Redstone.’
All the company laughed excessively at his weak jest.
Brandi tossed her long blonde hair and threw back her head, taking a large slurp of her drink. Then, the alcohol still in her mouth, she kissed Jeremy, prising his lips apart with her tongue so that some of it spurted into his mouth and dribbled down his chin. They all cheered.
‘King Jed’s back!’ announced Wombat, triumphantly, raising a beer with his chubby sunburnt hand.
Jeremy half stood, helping Brandi back onto her feet, then bowed to his fans.
‘What, you and Brandi leaving already?’ Glen asked in mock outrage.
‘Don’t be too tough on him, mate. I reckon he’s been through a bit of a drought out there.’ It was Spook, one of Jeremy’s boarding school mates. ‘Only two geriatrics and that half-black piece.’
There was more laughter, but for once Jeremy was lost for words. The ridiculous irony of it took his breath away – these fools were mocking someone like Alice.
‘Who says our Jed hasn’t been getting some?’ Nev piped up from where he was sitting at the far end of the bar. ‘That Alice’s pretty hot for a Murri chick.’ Melissa and Brandi tittered.
‘Don’t get me wrong, mate,’ grinned Spook. ‘I wouldn’t turn her down.’
Jeremy remained silent so Spook tried again. ‘But Jed could have every girl in town if he wanted, I reckon.’
‘Already has, hasn’t he?’ It was Max, another rodeo clown; Jeremy knew Max resented the way he always stole the show.
‘All the good sorts, at least.’ Wombat elbowed Brandi in the ribs. Brandi laughed along with all the others, giving Wombat a special flirty smile.
Then Max spoke again. ‘You’re not saying much, Jed. Look at his face. I reckon he’s had her! Needed a bit of spice in your life, eh, Jed?’ Jeremy could see Max was thoroughly enjoying himself now.
They all roared with laughter again, and Jeremy did his best to smile along with them, but he found he was suddenly nauseous. He sat back down again, trying to look unperturbed. This was all Alice’s fault, he told himself. He couldn’t even enjoy himself out with his mates anymore. And he was disgusted with himself for not having the guts to defend her – he, Jeremy O’Donnell, the bloke who feared nobody, who said whatever he liked. Jed the fearless was being gutless.
His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the cowbell over the pub door and there was Alice’s silhouette, the daylight flooding in around her little frame. She peered into the gloom, blinking at the sudden contrast.
‘Speak of the devil! Hey, Jed, it’s your boss!’ Max really was in fine form today.
‘How was church?’ Melissa addressed Alice, giggling.
‘Have your ears been burning, Alice?’ Brandi asked.
‘Can’t tell by looking, she’s pretty dark all over!’ Max roared at his own joke.
‘Can’t see anything properly anyway in this dim pisshole.’ Jeremy’s voice was testy.
Alice looked unruffled. She stepped lightly inside and the heavy door banged shut behind her, the cowbell clanging wildly.
‘Come and join us for a drink,’ Melissa said invitingly. Jeremy saw Brandi run her eyes over the newcomer.
Alice spoke with quiet self-assurance. ‘I just came to tell Jeremy that we’re heading home now.’
‘That’s my summons!’ Jeremy drained his glass and stood up.
Brandi clung to his arm like a limpet. ‘Don’t go, Jeddy! Mel and me will drive you back this arv.’
‘Thanks for the offer, Brand, but it’s two hours each way.’
‘We feel like a drive, don’t we, Mel? Anyway, there’s gotta be somewhere out there where we can crash for the night.’
‘Yeah, in Jed’s bed!’ Spook exclaimed.
They all laughed, except for Brandi, who looked close to tears, and Alice, who was looking out the window.
‘Afraid not, Brand. Against house rules.’ Jeremy pried her fingers off his arm.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Brandi screeched.
Wombat was sympathetic. ‘How much longer do you reckon you’ll stick it out?’
‘Dunno, mate. Might see you fellas at the rodeo. If not before.’
There was a chorus of raucous goodbyes and another busty embrace from Brandi. As he walked towards Alice, Jeremy was aware that all eyes were on them. He opened the door for her, then stood aside to let her pass through, before following behind her. It was the least he could do.