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Chapters (24)
  1. About the Author
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21

I decide to wash my clothes — a significant moment of achievement for me. I know, as I put them in the machine and add the last of the detergent, that I will forget I’ve done this, and the clothes will stay in the machine for days before I manage to get them to the clothesline. I take the rake to a thick drift of leaves that rests near the laundry. I keep at it for a while, and then give up after raking only one pile. I think about what I should do with the money. Pay bills and woo Sarah, like I told myself? I don’t think so. It would take a lot more than money to get Sarah back. Perhaps I should go on a world trip. Just a backpack and a phone, and see the world. That’s what lost people do, isn’t it? When you return, you realise how lucky you really are. Bugger that. I know I would just sit in a cheap bar nearest the airport where my plane landed, and drink myself to death. You don’t know how lucky you are. I do, actually. I’m really unlucky. As unlucky as I could ever be.

5

5

It is Sunday, and I am driving around checking stock water: troughs and tanks. The dogs, Ted and Special, are with me, running alongside, their unique ability to show pleasure in the moment on full display. They are kelpies, black and tan, sleek and full of purpose, and if there was any love left in me it would be for them. They chase and smell and play, keeping an eye on me in case there is work to be done. There isn’t. Nothing in this world confuses them except perhaps me.

The place has done well with the rain. The grass is green, and even the summer grasses are holding their colour. At this time of year, compared to the height of summer, the stock drink a lot less water, so there isn’t as much pressure on the water systems. It is not as likely they’ll die of thirst if they happen to empty a water tank through a broken hose or a stuck trough-float. That makes it sound like I give a shit. I don’t. Some of the ewes have fly strike, and should be treated. They’re not going to be, but as the weather cools they should be all right. The fallowed wheat paddocks are no longer fallow, because now they are bright and thick with different types of weeds of all heights and shapes. It means they are now grazing paddocks. It would take a power of burned diesel, and a lot of sprayed chemical, to get them back to the sort of order needed for crop growing.