Indi whirled to face him. ‘Hamish, you already worked on my ute at mates’ rates. You can’t keep bailing me out. You know we’re not … ananything, right?’
‘Right. Because if we were a thing, I’d be insisting we split the bill so you didn’t think I was buying my way into your pants. You know I worked on your ute because I’ve time on my hands now that I’ve got a mechanic in the workshop, plus I’m twiddling my thumbs waiting for rain so we can get the seeding finished. And the dinner’s because I don’t want Rik putting his hand in his pocket while he’s still trying to get his business off the ground. Truth is, I’d play for free—well, for the adoration of the crowd,’ he corrected with a grin, ‘but Rik won’t have it, and I can’t eat enough to keep thebill square. So you’re doing us both a favour. Just don’t let Daniel know.’ He nodded toward the bartender from the Overland Hotel. ‘He thrashed my arse in grade five and I’m not keen for a repeat.’ It was one thing to stir up his mate by pretending he was also keen on Indi, but another to let it look like he really was in the contest.
‘You’d better keep it from Tara, too, then,’ Indi said.
‘What, you heard that she thrashed me, as well?’ he joked, ushering Indi to the door, so she couldn’t argue the bill anymore.
‘I heard she’s taken to hanging out at the Ramblers’ clubroom in Murray Bridge after the footy, because she’s about given up on you and on Justin Hein.’
‘Nick Fischer is back from ag college,’ he said as he caught the door Lachlan held open. ‘He’s closer to her age. How come he gets a free pass?’
Indi grunted. ‘Like his old man gives him five minutes away from the dairy. Best thing Sharna ever did was run away to the city, instead of being a slave for her old man. Nick has been back for a while now, yet how often have you seen him in town?’
It was ironic how hard Indi judged Nick and Sharna’s father, when she also worked all hours on her dad’s property. Then again, she knew that she stood to inherit, lock, stock and barrel, while Nick would likely have to split the dairying property with his sister.
‘Maybe Nick is hanging around the Murray Bridge clubrooms after the netball,’ he said. ‘That’s why we don’t see him in Settlers.’
It was chilly out, after the fragrant warmth of the restaurant. As they stood on the footpath, each of them looked to the west, where any hope of rain would lie. Stars glittered like welding sparks against the glossy black sky.
‘Gonna be frost,’ Hamish said, voicing what they all knew. Early frost and no rain. That spelled the end for the fragile shoots of the dry seeding that had managed to push through the parched earth.
‘Hope you’re hungry,’ Hamish called as he heard the crunch of the gravel path along the side of the house he rented in Settlers Bridge. He could have lived in Lachlan’s old caravan out on the farm, but he kind of liked the sense of division that living in town and travelling the few kilometres out to work on the farm gave him. Unlike Lachlan, he didn’t feel that the farm was his entire life, and being in town made it easier to keep an eye on the mechanic he’d employed and put in the odd day at the workshop himself, as needed.
‘Would have said not so much,’ Ethan replied as he scuffed across the flaking paint of the back verandah. A year earlier, he’d turned up in town with Charlee Brennan, but he’d seemed to adopt Settlers Bridge and now headed up from the city a couple of times a month. He ran a tattooed hand over the short dreadlocks that had replaced the shaved scalp of the previous year. ‘But now I smell that lot, my stomach says different.’
‘Nothing beats a snag on the barbie, doesn’t matter what time of day. Couple of eggs, mate?’
‘For sure. I brought the iced coffee.’ He held up two Farmers Union bottles. It was iced coffee anytime of the day, as Ethan didn’t drink. Said he had to avoid anything that tempted him from sobriety.
Over the summer they’d made a habit of balancing on a couple of rickety old kitchen chairs on the back verandah while they shot the breeze, but this morning the dry frosthad them breathing fog. ‘Might eat inside, what do you reckon?’ Hamish suggested as he cracked four eggs onto the rusty barbecue plate. He paused, then added a couple more. Charity gave him more than they could ever eat.
‘Sure,’ Ethan said, dropping his carry-all to the ground. ‘What’s new in Settlers?’
‘As always, nothing much. Wait, that’s a lie. We had a hardarse lawyer join the group for dinner last night. She’s Pierce’s daughter, but she must take after her mother. She completely ducked the friendly gene.’
Ethan took the paper plate Hamish held out to him.
‘You right, mate?’ Hamish asked, as a sausage rolled precariously near the edge of the plate.
‘Just cold out here, you know.’ Ethan gave an exaggerated shiver to match the tremble in his hand.
Hamish turned off the burner. ‘Colder than a witch’s and not a drop of rain.’ He grunted, acknowledging the flash of satisfaction. ‘I’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to be dependent on the weather.’
‘Guess every job has its disadvantages. Got to say, I’m second-guessing my career choice. The faculty head is an absolute ballbreaker. Seems to have taken a personal dislike to me.’
‘We should probably introduce him to Pierce’s daughter.’ Hamish held the screen door open with his heel so Ethan could precede him into the house. Then he put his plate on the kitchen table and pulled out a vinyl-covered chair. ‘So this woman turns up at the restaurant last night with an attitude big enough to fill the room and a chip on her shoulder large enough to feed the town.’
‘I don’t reckon that’s the kind of chip that phrase refers to, but it sounds like she made an impression on you,’ Ethan said, reaching for the bottle of tomato sauce that lived onthe table. Tracey gave Hamish good chutney, but it always seemed more efficient to squeeze sauce from a plastic bottle than get the screw-top jar from the fridge.
‘Greta Thunberg made an impression; doesn’t mean it’s good,’ he muttered. Truth was, he’d spent a bit of time the previous night wondering where he’d gone wrong. That was two strikes in a row: Natasha last year, and now Jemma. ‘Reckon I must be losing my touch. She shot me down before I’d even turned on the charm.’
‘Too many years of having it easy,’ Ethan said.
‘Might be something in that.’ It wasn’t something Hamish should regret; he’d enjoyed being popular throughout school and for a decade beyond. Even now, it was easy enough to find female company—though he had to head to the city. Murray Bridge was nearer, but he’d belatedly realised his reputation wasn’t doing him any favours there, so he’d moved his attention further afield. The problem was, the women he met through the dating apps weren’t quite what he was looking for.
Except he wasn’t ‘looking’, he reminded himself. That was just Lachlan and Charity—and Jack and Lucie, Wheaty and Gabrielle—getting in his head. Seeing his mates settling down instead of hanging out together left him feeling like an outsider. None of the guys were big on talking about feelings or that kind of crap—beyond a half-joking reference—yet it was obvious that they had each found someone they could share more than sex with. And, increasingly, Hamish was beginning to think that maybe that kind of partnership was important. God knows, his father had always been an awkward old git, but Mum had balanced him. The past two years without her had been shit for all of them. Even now, although technically retired to the seaside fishing village of Robe, a few hours away, the old man was a regular visitor,always finding fault with the way his sons were managing the family property. At least he wasn’t as aggro toward Lachlan as he had been. Probably because Charity had helped grease those wheels a bit. Hamish didn’t know what she’d said to the old man, but around her he was like a bottle-raised bull; somehow she’d managed to calm him down, just like Mum used to.
‘Pass the sauce, mate,’ he said, cutting off his introspection.
