The truck came to a stop next to the olive grove. When the driver’s door swung open, Alex did a double-take. The boy who scrambled out was smaller than most of the kids in her class, all limbs and freckles, swimming inside clothes a few sizes too big. The only thing that fit properly was a scuffed brown drover’s hat, which he had pulled down low on his head. Alex would have bet her favourite hoodie that he was nowhere near old enough to have his driver’s licence.
He caught sight of Alex and her mum and promptly removed his hat. An avalanche of sandy brown hair flopped across eyes of roughly the same colour. Without the hat, he looked even younger. Alex stared at him, wary, adding this truck-driving kid to the growing list of things-too-weird-to-try-and-explain that she’d seen today.
‘You were supposed to be here an hour ago,’ Grandpa Jacob said. His words were curt, but all the sting in his voice from before was gone. He sounded almost … friendly?
‘Sorry, Mr Ortiz,’ the boy said. ‘Deliveries are a bit delayed this morning.’ He looked back to Alex and Mum, confusion etched over his face. ‘Didn’t you say Wilfred was coming?’
‘He will be,’ Grandpa Jacob said stubbornly. ‘Just as soon as I can get a hold of his father.’
Mum didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. ‘They’re in Europe for a holiday. I’m Elina, Mr Ortiz’s daughter. And this is Alex, his granddaughter. We’re here instead.’
‘I’m Leeuwin Bremmer,’ he said. ‘But everyone calls me Leeuie.’
‘Bremmer?’ Mum frowned. ‘You’re on the farm a few miles over? Apples?’
‘Yes Ma’am. Largest apple orchard in the southern hemisphere.’
‘And you, er, drove here?’ Her eyes darted to the red truck. ‘By yourself?’
He gave her a strange look, as though she had asked him if water was wet, or the sun was hot. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘You’re not … a bit young?’
He tried to stand a little taller. ‘I’ll be twelve in April.’
‘I thought you had to be seventeen to get your licence,’ Mum said, in that tone of voice that sounded like a question but wasn’t.
‘You do,’ Leeuie said, ‘but no one cares as long as you don’t go on the highway.’
Mum arched an eyebrow in total disagreement, but didn’t say anything. Grandpa Jacob wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation and had instead unlatched the back of the truck and was trying to heave one of the boxes towards him. He wobbled precariously on his fractured foot. Leeuie and Mum rushed over to him at the same time.
‘Stop your fussing,’ he said, brushing Mum away.
Leeuie took the box gently from his hands. ‘Let me help with that, Mr Ortiz.’
Grandpa Jacob considered this and nodded. ‘Okay, thank you, Leeuie.’
And then he turned and stomped back inside without so much as a glance at Alex and Mum.
Alex stared. Did her grandfather just say thank you? He couldn’t be bothered to say a single nice thing to his own daughter or granddaughter, or even remember Alex’s name for that matter, but some random kid turns up and he becomes all smiles and sunshine. She reformulated her observation from earlier. It wasn’t people in general Grandpa Jacob was horrible to. It was just her and Mum.
Mum peered into the back of the truck where more wooden crates were stacked. ‘Are all of those for Dad?’
Leeuie nodded. ‘For his alpacas. Apples are their favourite.’
At the mention of the alpacas, Alex’s ears pricked up. She scrutinised Leeuie to see if there were any telltale signs he knew these were not ordinary alpacas. But he gave nothing away.
‘I should get to the shops,’ Mum said. ‘Maybe you could help Leeuie unload those apples and he can fill you in on what there is to do around here?’
Leeuie’s face lit up at this idea. But Alex already knew what there was to do around here. Avoid talking alpacas, freaky winds and cranky grandfathers. She looked imploringly at Mum. ‘Can’t I come with you?’
Mum hesitated. ‘I won’t be gone long,’ she said, and Alex could tell from her tone that she really wanted some alone time. ‘You’ll be okay.’
Alex nodded miserably and tried to convince herself that Mum was right.