Chapter 5
Nathan gripped the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Xander sat with his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched. They both stared at the road ahead.
They hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, and it suddenly hit Nathan that his son was on the verge of tears. He was holding them back as hard as only teenage boys can – pale and tight-faced with the effort of shoring up the dam – but the grief was lapping at the edges. Xander had always looked up to Cameron, Nathan knew, and as he sat there, fully alive himself, he felt a brief stab of envy for his brother under a tarp.
Before they’d left Cameron’s Land Cruiser, Ludlow had produced a roll of crime scene tape from his bag and looked for a way to surround the vehicle. There were no trees, or even any sticks he could use as stakes in the ground. In the end, he’d cut strips of tape and tied them to the door handles.
‘I don’t think you need to be too worried, mate,’ Nathan had said, but Ludlow had still locked the driver’s door and handed the keys to Nathan.
‘You okay holding on to these? Your own sergeant wants to see all this tomorrow.’
Nathan had put the keys in his pocket, where he could still feel them now as he drove. They pressed heavy and uncomfortable against his hip. He and Xander had driven the sergeant back to the gravesite in silence, where Steve had thankfully finished his immediate duties. The rear door of the ambulance was shut now and Nathan was glad Cameron was no longer in sight.
Steve had eyeballed them. ‘Are you blokes all right to drive home?’
Nathan realised they all looked terrible, but they’d nodded anyway.
‘Maybe we should camp?’ he’d suggested half-heartedly as the ambulance drove away. ‘Save driving out here again tomorrow.’
‘No way. I had enough last night, thanks.’ Bub was already halfway into the driver’s seat. ‘You both coming back to ours?’
Nathan nodded. ‘Yeah, we will. Mum’s expecting us tomorrow anyway. For Christmas on Thursday?’ he added, when Bub looked surprised.
‘Oh, yeah. Righto.’ Bub started his engine. ‘See you at home, then.’
‘Which way do you want to go?’
‘Road,’ Bub said. ‘Back route’ll take longer if we get bogged. Dunno about you, but I can’t be arsed digging my way out today.’ He slammed his door.
Nathan could see Bub’s car a short way ahead on the road now. The dust billowing from under his wheels stopped for a few hundred metres as the unpaved road suddenly switched to seamless bitumen, well maintained and clearly marked with white paint. An emergency landing strip for the Flying Doctor. The smoothness lasted barely a minute before they were jolted back onto gravel.
Xander leaned forward in the passenger seat. In the distance was a rare flicker of movement. A car was approaching, still too far away to see properly.
‘All the Christmas presents are still at your place,’ Xander said, sitting back heavily.
‘Shit. Sorry, I thought we’d be going home before heading to Grandma’s.’ Nathan had planned to get back to his own house today, where they could scrub a week’s worth of dust from themselves and their clothes ahead of the family Christmas reunion.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Xander said. ‘No-one will care after this.’
No, Nathan thought. But he was annoyed with himself. He’d wanted to make this Christmas a good one for Xander, even if that was already turning into a pretty big ask.
The approaching car was still small but growing more visible ahead. Nathan recognised it as belonging to a long-term jackaroo from Atherton. The guy must be heading into town, there was nowhere else to go. The car grew closer, slowly. It felt like it took an age. There was time to consider the slight bend in the guy’s bullbar and the scraped paintwork on the hood.
The jackaroo reduced his speed a touch as he drew level with Bub, raising his hand in a wave. The greeting froze mid-air when he clocked Nathan driving behind. Nathan couldn’t make out the man’s eyes behind the windscreen but he could see the swivel of his wrist. Firmly and deliberately, the wave turned into the finger.
It was nothing less than Nathan had expected from the first sight of the dust in the distance. He stole a glance sideways. Xander was staring out of the passenger seat window, pretending, as always, not to have noticed.
Nathan sometimes thought he could see his childhood homestead appear a thousand times, and a thousand times find it surprising.
The house stood on a slight rise at the end of a driveway that stretched for more than twenty kilometres. The homestead glowed like an oasis as the red desert gave way to a lush lawn and well-tended garden, kept green by bore water. The house itself, with its sweeping verandah, looked plucked from a country street in a time when homes were still generous and sprawling. The large industrial sheds dotted around spoiled the illusion a little, as did the staff accommodation cabins. They looked deserted to Nathan’s eye, but a caravan he hadn’t seen before was parked in the yard beside a dusty four-wheel drive.
As he drove up to the house, he kept his eyes peeled for signs of decay or disrepair. He could see none. The house, like the property and the well-fed cattle they’d passed on the journey, appeared to be doing well. Better than Nathan’s own place at any rate, he couldn’t help thinking as he parked next to Bub. Strings of tinsel and Christmas lights had been wound along the verandah. They had been put up with care, but already looked tatty as they flapped in the hot wind.
Harry was waiting, leaning on the wooden railings. He straightened as the three of them got out of the cars. Harry had skin like a leather bag and an expression that barely changed, making it hard to guess what he was thinking. Balamara born and bred, he had started working on stations at an age when he should have still been in school. He had come to Burley Downs before Nathan was born, and he was still there, after Nathan had left.
‘Good to see you both,’ Harry said, shaking Nathan’s hand and giving Xander a gentle slap on the shoulder. Bub was engulfed in a slobbery reunion with his dog. Nathan saw Cameron’s cattle dog, Duffy, hanging back and watching the empty road. He reached out a hand and she came to him reluctantly.
Strains of music floated from somewhere in the house as a recorded voice sang about snow and sleighbells. Coming from his nieces’ rooms, Nathan guessed. It had been a year since he had seen Cameron’s daughters and he wondered how they would cope with the news about their dad. The festive music sounded strangely grotesque, but the girls were only eight and five, he thought. Whatever helped.
