Barefoot and Lost (52 page)

    
Tex
is walking towards his truck; well I assume it is
Tex
because he is wearing a cowboy hat. A car
with a spotlight on its roof
is slowly cruising
around the truck park,
lighting up each truck up a
s it passes, it stops beside Sid’s,
White.
The interior light comes
on
when the
passenger opens
the door
,
I
freeze
when I realize he is a policeman. H
e
bangs
on
the door of the White and climbs up.
Sid shouts ‘What the hell’

     ‘Open up Police’
Sid
pokes his head out of the window.

     ‘What’s up mate’
I can’t hear what they are saying but
Sid is pointing towards the Mack. They must be looking for me, how did they know to look here?
Sneaking around the back of a
tree
,
I watch frightened to breathe as the policeman jumps down
,
reaches inside the car and swivels the spotlight
around the park
.
The light goes out and he walks towards the Mack, I must get away.
In my haste I feel the shoulder of my j
acket snag on a wire,
rip
ping it
as I climb through the fence. Running blindly across the field I very nearly lose my balance as I skid in something soft and slippery. It is only when I stumble over a black and white cow
laying down do I realize what I
may have trodden in.

     Crouching beside the fence
,
I
watch the police car turn left as it leaves the park heading
the
way I want to go towards
Melbourne
. I am tempted to go back to the yard and see if I can get a lift now the police have gone, but think better of it, Sid or
Tex
would have to hand me over
.
I can’t make up my mind what to do, but the decision is made for me when I feel a stinging on my hand, looking down I see the sleeve of my jacket is covered
with
ants, I have never seen ants so big they must be an inch long.
I f
rantic
al
ly
brush
them
off
as
I run
,
hopefully in the direction of
Melbourne
.
 

    
The lights of a vehic
le coming up behind me stops my running and I hide
behind a
big white tree,
the
bark
is
peeling off
and
lying on the ground
looking like rolled up pieces of brown paper. The tree
smells like the ointment Gran
used
to
rub
on my chest.
I
watch
Tex
and his Mack go by
thank God I’m going the right way
.
I’m about to start walking when the Mack s
creeches to a halt, has he seen me and is stopping to pick me up. I hesitate it could be a trap, but then I realize he ha
s been stopped by the police
. I can hear them talking but can’t hear what they are saying. A couple of minutes pass then both vehicles move off,
Tex
on his way and the police back towards
Adelaide
.

    
I’m counting my steps, why do I do that, it used to really annoy Michael; six hundred and one, two, three;
I’ve been walking for a long time I have lost count how many steps, and does it really matter. The sun is just peeping, over the hill in front of me; I know for sure, I’m heading in the right direction for
Melbourne
. Every time a vehicle approaches I hide in the shadows, where will I hide now it is daylight, or should I try to get a lift.

     A sign beside the road reads, You are about to leave the state of South Australia, to combat fruit fly, all fruit must be declared at the Victoria Ministry of Agriculture; it goes on about fines for those that carry unregulated fruit over the border; what does that mean?

     I can see a building that looks like an office, beside a high wire fence, how can I walk past there without being noticed? The fence cannot go on forever so I have decided to
follow it
to see if I can cross somewhere else. After about half a mile the high wire fence becomes an ordinary wire fence, scrambling through I wonder, do the fruit flies do the same thing, or do they read the notice on the main road and turn back?

     It is getting hot now; even with m
y jacket off I’m sweating. The
smell in the air
that reminds me of the stuff Gran
rubbed on my chest when I had a bad cough
is so strong. Three hundred and twenty seven steps ago, I
crossed over a small brook
the sign said it was Reynolds Creek, I was
very tempted to drink from it, but it didn’t look too good so I just splashed some over my head and then soa
ked Billy’s shirt in it, wearing
t
he shirt
like a hat, it has cooled me. Through the trees I can see a main road, I’m not sure if it is the road to
Melbourne
but it does seem to be going in the right direction.

     In a clearing there is a pickup truck or is it a Ute, loaded with coils of wire, fence
posts,
and shovels. Underneath the Ute, in the shade is a large black and white dog, the Ute looks like it has come from the Keystone Cops, I have never seen a car so old before except in the films. The dog growls
, the scruffy old man
crouching over a fire, stands up and swings around, spilling
some of the steaming contents
of the can he is
holding onto the ground.

    
‘
G’day
mate, ow yer going?
’

     ‘Hello, sorry I made you jump.’

     ‘Geeze, a bloody Pom, yer a flaming long way from ‘ome aint yer; fancy a brew?’

     ‘A cup of tea would be very nice, thank you.’

     ‘Sorry to say we aint got no fine bone china cups, but if you’re prepared to drink out of a tin mug then be my g
uest, drag up a log and park yer arse
, what’s your handle?’

     I look around but can’t see any logs and what does he mean by my handle; standing,   looking confused.

     ‘Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth wide open, you’ll catch friggin flies, sit your arse down here’ he says, as he pats the ground. ‘What’ll I call yer it’s only right we should know each others names, if we is gunna dine together?’

     ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you.’

     ‘
Jesus
Mate
, not understand me, you’re the bastard with the friggin accent not me.’

     ‘My name is Phi---
Mel
Barton
.’

     ‘Pleased t’ meet cha
Mel
, I’m Skeeter McKenzie,’ pointing at the dog, ‘He’s Defor.’

     The man standing in front of me with his gnarled hand held out, is shorter than me, with a cr
aggy sun burnt face,
his stringy grey hair
is
poking out from under a greasy battered hat
and
, almost reaches to his broad sho
ulders,
a
dirty
khaki shirt
, undone to his belly button hangs
over a torn pair of shorts. O
n his feet he has a pair of very
worn boots; I can see the toes of his right foot poking through the toe cap. Shaking his hand makes me wince, leaving me with what feels like three broken fingers.

     The tea is hot black and sweet with a smoky taste, I think it is the best tea I have ever tasted.
       

    
‘So Mel, where yer heading and where ‘ave yer come from?’

     ‘I’m going to
Melbourne
to meet up with my adopted mum and dad.’

     ‘Are yer now, how old are yer, where did yer start out from?’

     ‘I’ll be fifteen after Christmas, and I started from
Perth
a week ago.’

    
‘Geeze how’d
yer manage that then?
Christ
,
Perth
, that’s two thousand miles away.’

     Thinking I will tell Skeeter the truth, well nearly the truth, anyway, I tell him that I was supposed to go with a group on the train but got separated at Kalgoorlie, then I told him what really happened, leaving out the bits about the Salvation Army and the Police. I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t ask questions so I have left it at that.

     Sitting in the fire is a cooking
pot;
Skeeter every so often, lifts the
lid,
and peers inside.

     ‘What are you cooking, it smells nice?’

     ‘It’s underground mutton stew.’

     ‘What’s that?’

     ‘Rabbit, a few spuds, couple of carrots, some flour to thicken it, a couple of gum leaves to flavour it and Bob’s yer uncle, underground mutton stew’

     ‘Did you catch the rabbit?’

     ‘Nar it jumped into the pot on its friggin own,’ the look on my face makes him laugh   ‘Only kidding course I bloody caught it, set three traps last night and got one bunny, that’s enough, anymore it’s a waste as I can’t keep em, they go off very quick this time of the year.’

     
Skeeter has told
me he is a fencer, going all over the State putting up fences, telling me that, on his own, he could put up more and better fences than anyone else in the State. He told me he has a technique that no one else has fathomed out and this made him the best.

    The sun is dropping behind the
trees;
we have been talking for ages.
When Skeeter is not talking fences he can be very interesting, telling me stories about Aboriginal folklore, I have no idea if it is true but it is fantastic to listen to.

     The stew is delicious, Defor has come to sit beside me, and I’m not sure whether it is me or the stew that has attracted him. ‘Skeeter, Defor is a strange name for a dog, is it an Aboriginal name or something?’ He starts to laugh I can’t see what I have said that is funny.

      ‘
Nar
Mel
its
Dee
for Dog simple aint it?’

      ‘No it’s me that is simple, I should have realized that.’

     ‘Mel, do you have a deadline on meeting your folks, only I was thinking I could do with an ‘and on me next job up at Edenhope, you could work for me, I’d pay yer the going rate for a weeks work, about six quid it is, it would give you something to help you on your way, could even pay for a train from Hamilton to Melbourne, what do yer say?’

     ‘That would be fantastic, but I don’t know anything about fencing.’

     ‘No worries mate I’d learn yer, so it’s a deal then?’

     ‘A deal, thank you Skeeter.’

     ‘Them’s fancy boots you got there young Mel, yer know they aint gunna last yer ten minutes with all that cow shit on them, boots like them should be looked after, get em off and I’ll show how to clean em.’ I wonder what Skeeter knows about cleaning boots his are a disgrace. After washing the cow dung off he has set me to rubbing mutton fat into the leather in a circular motion, they are starting to gleam. ‘When you’re finished that, leave em overnight to let the fat work into the leather, do that ev
ery week and they’ll last yer fe
r years, now how about a brew and let us have a boss to worker discussion?’

     ‘We got a bit of a problem with sleeping arrangements; I don’t often have guests and certainly none that hasn’t got their own swag. You’ll just ‘ave to sleep on the ground, use yer bag as a pilla. There’s a tarp in the back of the Ute, you can throw that over yer, and tomorrow yer can buy a blanket. To be going on wiv to stop yer getting cold put some of this in yer tea’