smiled at him.
‘I think the bend is accidental but when you see the snorkel you’ll understand. It’s like a snorkel you use when swimming, only a car one that takes the exhaust up over the top of the vehicle so if you’re going through deep water it can’t get into the exhaust pipe and cause the engine to overheat.’
Nick shook his head.
‘After showing that level of ignorance, I hardly dare ask about Bruce.’
This time Annabelle laughed.
‘Bruce, I imagine, is our dog.’ ‘Our dog?’
‘Ours for the next two months!’
‘I’ve got a dog called Bruce?’
‘No, no,’ Annabelle said, laughing so much she could hardly speak. ‘We’ve got a dog called Bruce!’
‘Well, you’d better keep him under control,’ Nick grumbled. ‘Because there is no way in this world I’m going to stand around calling out Broo-ooce, or, worse still, Brucie, to any darned dog.’
He crossed the room to where their fellow passengers were retrieving luggage from a trolley and picked out a new-looking suitcase, then turned towards Annabelle.
‘Which is yours?’ he asked, but she was already reaching past him, swinging a battered backpack onto her back then lifting a bulky roll with a strap around it off the trolley.
‘Swag,’ she said, no doubt reading the question on his face before he’d even asked it. ‘There’ll be swags in the troopie as part of our equipment but I like to use my own.’
‘I thought swags were what swagmen carried during the depression, a kind of bed roll.’
‘Exactly,’ Annabelle replied. ‘They’re back in vogue, you know. I doubt there’s a young man anywhere west of the main cities who doesn’t have a swag he can throw in the back of his ute.’
‘Not only a foreign place but a foreign language,’ Nick muttered to himself as he followed Annabelle out of the airport building. She appeared to be heading for a large, bulky-looking vehicle, custard yellow under a film of red dust. He studied it, seeking the snorkel, which he finally identified as a black pipe coming up alongside the driver’s side windscreen, this particular snorkel bent crazily forward at the top.
Annabelle had stopped and was fiddling through the keys, although as he joined her she nodded towards the bent pipe.
‘Backed it under a low branch I’d say, wouldn’t you?’
Nick nodded in turn. He was too bemused by the strangeness—by the hot, dry air, the red dust already coating his shoes, this battered vehicle and an undoubtedly capable nurse—to make a comment on the driving skills of his predecessors.
Then a question he should have asked earlier occurred to him and he studied the capable nurse.
‘How come you know all this country stuff?’ he demanded, and though he expected a teasing smile and some light remark in reply she said nothing, just concentrated on the bunch of keys as if the large one that had ‘Toyota’ written on it hadn’t already been singled out by her nimble fingers.
She unlocked the doors at the rear of the vehicle and threw her pack and swag into a narrow space between chests of medical equipment, large plastic containers of water and a small, chest-like refrigerator. Nick hoisted his suitcase and set it on top of another chest, then remembered they had to collect the one from the terminal.
‘I’ll get it,’ he offered, but Annabelle followed him anyway, knowing it would be easier to carry if they shared the load.
And as she followed she considered the question she hadn’t answered. How to explain that this was the country of her heart? Or that she’d volunteered not only for the bonus money but so she could come out here to face the past, and hopefully put it behind her, enabling her to move on, strong and confident, towards whatever the future might hold.
He’d have thought she’d lost her marbles, and the poor man was confused enough as it was.
She caught up with him and together they carried the chest out of the now-deserted terminal building. Back at the troopie, it was Nick who found where the chest went, behind the driver’s seat and accessible only by tipping the seat forward.
The success must have gone to his head for next minute he was demanding the keys and settling himself into the driver’s seat, man-confident there wasn’t a vehicle made he couldn’t drive.
Until he noticed the two gear sticks…
Annabelle smiled to herself as she climbed into the passenger seat and watched the frown deepen on his face as he tried to work it out.
‘Okay,’ he finally admitted, ‘tell me!’
‘One’s for the four-wheel drive,’ she said, pointing to the smaller of the two. ‘You put the main one into neutral before engaging four-wheel drive and you have to lock the hubs on the front wheels.’
His frown was now directed right at her.
‘And other city doctors who come out to this godforsaken place find this out how?’
‘I guess they read the manual, or perhaps the information is passed on from the departing pair—there’d have been plenty of time for Phil to explain if it hadn’t been for the fight.’
‘Can you drive it?’ Nick asked, and Annabelle nodded then watched him get out, walk around the bonnet and open the door on her side.
‘It’s all yours. I’ll read the manual while we’re travelling.’
She smiled at him as she slid back out to the ground.
‘Well, at least you’re not too stubborn to admit you don’t know something. I could name half a dozen doctors in A and E back home who’d cut their tongues out before admitting a woman might know more about a vehicle than they did.’
Nick returned her smile with interest, flashing a gleaming grin alight with teasing self-mockery.
‘My ego’s taken such a battering already, one more blow is hardly noticeable.’
They swapped seats but it wasn’t until Annabelle started the engine that she heard a short, sharp bark and remembered Bruce.
‘Ha! You don’t know how to drive it either,’ Nick said, but she was already out of the vehicle, looking around her, finally locating the dog tied in the meagre shade of a gidgee tree at the edge of the car park.
‘Bruce?’ she called, and got an answering bark, but as she approached the dog she wondered just how adaptable he was to the medical staff who came and went from Murrawalla. He seemed to be largely blue cattle dog, a dog known to be loyal to one master, but Bruce’s slavering, tail-wagging, stomach-crawling behaviour as she approached suggested he was happy to be in any human company.
She let him sniff her hand and, as he continued to greet her with grovelling wriggles and little whimpers of delight, she unhooked his lead from the tree, picked up the empty
