When Mrs Fagan told Mr Wisdom that it was almost impossible for me to finish my work, he agreed to employ more help. In the two months since Coolgardie had been declared a town it had grown to four times its original size. Six condensers worked away at purifying the underground water. Although it was still not safe to drink and had to be boiled and cooled, at least we could use it for washing and cleaning. Bayley’s Mine at Fly Flat employed almost a hundred men. Some of them had even brought their wives and children. Transport companies delivered stores, timber and building materials. Real houses, built from weatherboard and corrugated iron, were springing up, and Tobias’s Store had expanded. A large shed had been built at the back to hold extra stock.
Even on my morning walk I could feel the heat of summer approaching, but my spirits lifted when Mrs Fagan greeted me with the news that Warden and Mrs Finnerty were coming to live in Coolgardie.
‘They’ll be stayin’ here with us, so they will, until their own place is built,’ she said. She was smiling so much that her round cheeks almost hid her deep-set black eyes.
‘Oh, Mrs Fagan, that’s wonderful news!’ I said, clapping my hands.
‘So it is,’ she agreed. ‘Mrs Finnerty is a woman of quality. Sure the town will be the better for havin’ her here. And the warden, of course.’ She looked almost as delighted as I was. There would be even more work, but I didn’t care. I would manage, no matter how long it took. Anyway, I was still hoping Mr Wisdom would find someone to come and work here.
Later that day a willy-willy came down Bayley Street. It started out on the plain. I could see it coming from twenty miles away, swirling the loose particles of sand and dried-out stalks of spinifex into a thin, red-brown column of dust that reached high up into the sky. It swayed and twisted like a demented dancer and I crossed my fingers behind my back. Willy-willies were unpredictable things. Although it seemed to be heading towards us, there were moments when it wavered along its chosen path and I fervently hoped it would veer away and miss the town. I had just finished cleaning all the rooms. A willy-willy would cover them in red dust and grit in less than a minute. I had been late starting that morning. Jack was leaving and I had gone to the stables at first light to say goodbye to him. I knew Mrs Fagan needed me in the kitchen so I hurried through the last of the sweeping, still hoping that the storm might miss us, but my heart sank when I glanced out into the street. The willy-willy was almost upon us.
I ran to the front windows and slammed them shut. Arthur Williams was already rolling down the canvas flaps in the billiard room and tying them tight. Mr Wisdom threw covers over tables in the dining room and tipped chairs upside down, shouting at me to come and help. The willy-willy, which had been silent at a distance, began to hiss and squeal. It came shrieking in under the rafters, lifted a loose corner of the tin roof and slapped it down with a bang. The whole makeshift building shuddered and seemed to lean away from the wind, but there was no keeping it out. It brought the red dust swirling in through every crack.
All four of us huddled together behind the bar, which was the sturdiest part of the building. Mrs Fagan crouched down and pulled the bottom of her apron up over her head. Mr Wisdom and Arthur Williams sat on the floor with their knees drawn up and their hands over their ears. The glasses rattled above us in their wooden racks. I didn’t know what to do. There had been dust storms before, but nothing like this. Even in the shelter of the bar, the wind blew my hair about my face and dust into my eyes.
There was a huge clap of thunder overhead. Above the roar of the wind I heard horses screaming and stamping in the stables. Where was Jack? Was he still out there in the storm? I leapt up to go and look for him, but Mrs Fagan caught my arm and pulled me down again.
‘Don’t be daft, lass,’ she yelled in my ear. ‘Ya can’t be goin’ anywhere in this!’
The rain came right behind the willy-willy. When the first fat drops fell, we all stood up and rushed to the door. Rain was splashing onto the dirt, each drop leaving its own tiny moon crater. The dry earth welcomed the moisture and gave off a distinctive smell of wet soil – it made me want to run outside and stand in the rain, to breathe in the freshness of it and feel the cooling drops on my gritty skin.
The rain was now pouring down in sheets. The splashing sound had changed to a steady drumming. Mrs Fagan and I went out into the street. It seemed that the whole town was out there, all in their work clothes, getting soaking wet. The men pulled off their hats and let the rain wash through their hair. The women took off their boots, lifted their skirts and bathed their bare feet. Two children ran splashing through puddles. A toddler who had clearly never seen rain before clung uncertainly to his mother. Mrs Fagan and I looked at each other and laughed at our bedraggled state. Water streamed through our hair and left red stains on our white blouses, which quickly turned to pink as the deluge soaked into our clothes. I lifted my arms to sweep the hair from my eyes. Water trickled down my neck and into my armpits.
The storm was over as quickly as it had begun. Red-brown water coursed down the street, making gullies in the wheel tracks and puddles in the doorways.
The sun came out. People hung their wet clothes over railings, and pegged them onto clothes lines. Neighbours called to each other as they opened their windows.
‘Nice drop,’ they said.
‘Any damage?’
‘Nothing major over here. How about you?’
Jack came up from the stables. He was soaked to the skin but grinning broadly.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? Now we can wash everything! And your wells and soaks will be full.’
‘Hmm, we’ll see,’ Jack said, and his face straightened out. ‘Storms like this can be very local. It was a big one, but out here they can come through in a strip that’s only a mile wide. Lots of places miss out.’
‘Oh,’ I said, deflated.
‘Hey, don’t be glum,’ Jack’s smile returned. ‘The track will be too wet for me to go back to the Cross now. I’ll be here for another night at least.’