He takes a left onto a dirt track and the road starts to climb steeply into the hills. My ears begin to pop and I have to keep swallowing. Michael winds down his window and I do the same. A fragrant scent, coupled with the aroma of early morning sunshine burning off the dew on the fern-covered banks immediately assaults my senses.
‘What’s that smell?’ I ask.
‘Eucalyptus,’ Michael replies, pointing out of the window. ‘From all the gum trees.’
I breathe in deeply and feel an unexpected burst of happiness. It takes me by surprise.
‘Do you usually work on Sundays?’ I ask Michael.
‘Sometimes,’ he replies. ‘We all have to work weekends occasionally.’
‘What do you do exactly?’
‘I’m a senior keeper. I look after the devils and the dingoes, among other things.’
‘Cool. Will anyone mind me tagging along today?’
‘Course not, sweetheart! Josh used to come all the time before his mum died.’
I wonder what it was about Josh’s mum dying that made him stop going to the conservation park. I wonder how his mum died at all. I want to ask, but it doesn’t feel right.
We take a left at the top, back onto the main road, and after a while turn right through some rusted wrought-iron gates into the conservation park. I can just make out a hazy view of the city beyond what I now recognise as eucalyptus trees. Eventually the road opens up into a large car park. Michael turns into the staff parking area and switches off the ignition. We both climb out of the truck and I nervously follow him through the gates. I’m starting to regret my impulsive decision to accompany him today when I could be back at the house with my bedroom door closed and not have to speak to anyone.
‘Morning, Jim,’ Michael calls, as a man dressed in identical clothes to him – beige shorts and a matching long-sleeved shirt – approaches us.
‘Morning, Mike. Who’s this?’
‘Lily!’ Michael booms, then in a quieter aside, ‘Cindy’s daughter.’
‘Oh, okay!’ the man called Jim exclaims. ‘You arrived yesterday, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘How was your flight?’
‘Long,’ I reply as an annoying blowfly buzzes around my face.
‘I thought Lily might like to get out of the house,’ Michael explains.
‘Great stuff. And what’s your mum up to?’
I shrug. ‘She’s at, er, the house.’ I can’t quite bring myself to say ‘home’.
‘Well, we’ve all been dying to meet her. And you, of course. Better get on. Got to go see Trudy about my timesheet. Have a good one!’ he calls over his shoulder as he heads in the direction of the office off to our right.
‘Come on.’ Michael beckons.
‘Where are we going?’ I look around and can just make out stone-walled enclosures through the tree trunks.
‘First things first,’ he says, winking. ‘Let’s go and have a cuppa.’
This man drinks alotof tea.
The staffroom has a basic kitchen, a couple of greeny-grey threadbare sofas and a table surrounded by six brown school-style chairs. There are a few people milling about and Michael introduces everyone individually. They’re all very welcoming and consequently my nerves start to fade.
‘Now, it’s up to you,’ Michael says to me after ten minutes of general chitchat and tea drinking. ‘I’ve got to muck out the wombats in a minute and you’re welcome to watch me shift the sh—poo, but I thought you might prefer to go for a wander instead. We open the doors to the general public at nine-thirty, but we don’t start feeding time until eleven, and that’s with the devils, so you’ve got a bit of time to kill. Maybe go see the roos. Hey, Janine, have you got a map handy?’
A plain woman with mousy hair tied back into a low ponytail rummages around in a rucksack and hands over a map. Michael unfolds it and pinpoints where the staffroom is.
