Texas (26 page)

Texas sat down and reached over and squeezed her leg behind the knees.

She leapt up, laughing, crying: ‘You know I hate that.'

He handed her a beer and she settled into the couch beside him. Wal walked over to the television.

‘Remember when he says, “Out here a man settles his own problems,” it's in
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
, I got it the other day.'

‘So how many bloody John Wayne films is that?' asked Texas.

‘Too many, the old girl reckons,' said Wal with a grin as he sat down again.

The video started playing without any sound.

‘Wal used to have his own contracting turnout,' Texas was speaking to Laura. ‘Had a horse plant and a truck and all that stunt.'

‘You did a bit a bull catching with me that time over in that tableland country. Remember? We got a good number of bulls out of there.'

‘You're not doing it any more?' she said.

‘Busted me back. Working for main roads now. When I can.'

Horses and riders flashed across the screen in black and white. Texas and Wal reminisced about work and the people they knew. She heard some of it and other times she watched the film. Every now and then she found it hard to breathe and it seemed that time had stopped and there was no way of knowing what life was like outside this place that was all closed up from the heat. A bright rectangle of light appeared in the doorway and all three of them turned towards it. A boy burst in, about five years old, and he was followed by an older girl and another boy. Billie came in behind them carrying their school bags. She switched on a light and they all blinked.

‘Bloody hot out there,' she said. ‘Stop it you kids.'

They were fighting in the kitchen and the younger one was crying.

‘Texas, you getting my old man drunk? He got things to do, haven't you Wal. That bloody drink, it'll be the end.'

‘We're going into town,' said Texas.

When he stood up Laura followed, using the back of the chair for support.

‘You not taking Wal with you,' said Billie.

Texas had his arm around Laura at the doorway and she turned back towards them and said: ‘Bye.'

They stepped into a furnace and walked along the street and cloud edged the sun and she remembered.

‘You forgot your hat.' Realising they'd left all their gear behind.

‘I got money,' he said.

He drew his arm around her tighter and pulled her face into his, kissing her mouth. Thunder sounded in the distance like a wave breaking and she moved away from him and looked up.

A dark ledge of cloud sat above light, white shapes and overhead there were wisps of herringbone that were tinted green and pink. Flies whined in her ears and her pulse pumped densely.

They came out onto a road with shops and across the road there was a strip of grass and on the other side of the grass

Texas was the pub which she recognised as the place where the bus had stopped all those months ago. It might have been years.

There were people beneath a fig tree and heads leant towards other heads, and arms gestured. She was glad to sit down but there was no escape, the air oppressed and she wondered what it was like to drown. Someone passed a bottle wrapped in brown paper. Her eyes watered and she was surprised there was any moisture left in her body. A woman said something angrily in a language she didn't understand. The others ignored her. She watched a cloud form into a lumpy snowman, all softness and curves, and at its base, hardness and darkness, and occasionally lightning flashed across it. The rumbles grew louder, and even though she knew thunder could be explained by science, its sound was chaotic and unexpected. Leaves shivered in the shock of it and birds flew out of the tree. She leant towards Texas and he seemed surprised to see her. He pulled her in close and he couldn't have realised he was hurting her.

‘I can't do this,' she said. ‘It's too hot.' Pulling away.

He put his hand to her face and his eyes seemed sad, or perhaps he was drunk.

‘What about the pub, can we go there?' she asked desperately. ‘Or back to Billie and Wal's?'

She pushed open the door of the front bar as rain fell in large steaming drops, noisily hitting the scorched earth and the dry leaf litter. Texas tripped on the step behind her. A few people glanced up and she could breathe again, the refrigerated air. The barmaid took their order without looking at them. It made her think she might have been invisible. The woman placed the two amber-coloured drinks on the bar and condensation slid down the sides of the glass. When Texas pulled out a handful of money, she realised she didn't have any. They settled on a pair of metal stools facing each other. A couple of older men were sitting further along the bar and there were small groups of people around tables. The windows behind were covered in wire mesh and the floor was concrete.

‘Texas,' she said. ‘Where are we staying?'

A woman went over to the jukebox and put on a song. Laura recognised the words. Texas drained his beer.

‘We could get a room in the motel,' she added.

‘Have a game of pool eh?'

She brought the beer to her mouth and saw through the glass. They leant over the green table to hit the ball and it was like a raft, keeping them afloat, focusing their thoughts, their conversation, and it provided them with a reason to continue.

People moved in around them. There was a woman talking to Texas. He handed her money and she met Laura's eyes and climbed on the stool beside her, introducing herself as Maisie, his sister. Maisie's husband joined them; he was much older than her and Laura was reminded of Irish. More people gathered. Smoke rose and so did people's voices, sometimes in argument, and language was like liquid, coalescing into continuous sound. Maisie and Texas had the same lean face but she was shorter.

‘You're my sister now,' she said and her voice reached Laura through the noise and the haze.

Texas Maisie admired the silver bracelet Laura wore and gave her the ring from her finger. Laura took off her bracelet, happy with the exchange. Her only memory of leaving the pub was stepping into air that steamed with heat and seeing a large yellow moon like a ship's porthole sitting on top of the hills.

She woke sweating, the light was bright and she lifted her head slowly from a mound of blankets, smelling dog shit and eucalyptus smoke. Treetops flickered blindingly. She pulled herself up and Texas stirred a little. There were beads of sweat below the line of his hair. She pushed away the warm cans of beer they hadn't got to drink. A few metres away there was a canvas shelter held up by timber posts and it was between a caravan and an old Bedford truck. A man bare to the waist was standing at the front wheel arch of the truck where a small transistor radio was perched; he was attempting to tune it into a station. Static and distorted music, then song and more static. He was standing sideways and a woman spoke and she could make out the shape of someone sitting in a chair beneath the shelter. He replied in the same sharp language. He seemed to give up on the radio because he left it and walked in under the shade.

‘Texas,' she said, her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her and frowned and moved his lips over his teeth. They were camped under a tree beside a brown station wagon and a rusty upturned Morris. There were others sleeping on the ground around them like misshapen lumps of fabric. And through the trees and amongst lifeless grass and empty bottles and cans and paper rubbish were other camps, more vehicles and shelters, and people passed through bush as flashes of colour. The distant sound of lilting voices weaved in and out and was scored by the yapping of dogs. Her mouth was dry and her head ached. She needed to go to the toilet. Texas pulled himself up and he sat with his knees bent and his arms holding them for support.

‘Is there any water?' she asked.

She was wearing the same shorts and singlet from yesterday and she wanted desperately to retrieve her things from Billie's place.

‘Look through those trees, there's the block. There's a tap there,' he said.

‘Are we going to Billie and Wal's later?' she asked.

‘Yeah might be.'

‘But what about our stuff?'

‘Be all right. See that old woman, that's my mother, Betty, and Sam, he's my stepfather.'

He stood up and brushed the dust from his jeans. His shirt was open and it hung loosely and his dark curly hair was flattened at the back of his head. She followed him and stood under the canvas as he told the old people her name. They nodded. The woman, his mother, said something she didn't understand. Texas laughed.

‘She said you the same as that gin you buy in a bottle. You know, white gin.'

Laura smiled, not sure what he meant. She followed the trail of flattened grass behind the car, and the sand was still baking even after the night and the small amount of rain. There were

Texas no clouds and the bush seemed as tired of the relentless heat as she was. Dogs came to sniff her and children called out. She wondered at their energy. There were people, perhaps five or six, around the small shed-like structure that was erected on concrete. It was about four metres long and two metres wide and inside was a toilet and a big steel basin. A woman, washing a child, smiled.

‘That toilet don't work,' she told her.

But Laura could tell from the smell. ‘Is there another one?' she asked.

The woman looked away. Laura drank from the outside tap and filled the billy and nodded hello to the people who were watching. When she returned to the camp the station wagon had gone and Texas had started a small fire for the water. He was sitting in the dirt with three other men; one of them was Jimmy. She didn't want to stay there. She couldn't in that heat. It was only going to get worse. The sun hadn't even risen above the hills.

‘Let's go into town,' she said.

‘Yeah, maybe later,' said Texas.

‘How far is it?'

He didn't answer.

‘How far is it, Jimmy?' She felt like screaming.

‘Little way longa that track, and then that road and then sun-up way,' he said and pointed.

Texas squinted at her and he tried to pull her closer but she resisted, stepping back, away from him. He followed her to the broken vehicle. She faced him.

‘What is this place?'

He stared into the distance. ‘My family's camp.'

‘This is where they live?'

He didn't reply for a moment.

‘They're going to build a house for this mob,' he gestured with his head towards the old man and woman. ‘Government fella, he come out here. Been saying that for a long long time.'

His expression changed in a way she hadn't seen before and she didn't understand what it meant.

‘What are you doing?' he asked as she turned around.

‘I need to . . . I don't know. I need to be somewhere else.'

She pushed her hair back from her face, hot and uncomfortable. There was no sign of the grog in his eyes but she noticed the can in his hand.

‘Why do we have to drink all the time?'

‘Not every time. Just holiday time eh.'

He brought the can of beer up to his mouth and then he smiled and she moved to be near him and with his other hand he brought her closer and she was reassured by the strength of his body.

‘I stay here with these fellas and I come to town later.'

‘Okay,' she said. ‘I don't have any money.'

He pulled a handful of notes from his pocket.

It took about twenty minutes to walk into the main street.

There weren't many people around at that hour of the day, or perhaps it was like that all the time. She still wasn't used to the vast expanse of distances that seemed inhabited by so few.

The bricks from the buildings gave off heat but their solidness was reassuring. She walked around the block, up and down the

Texas two streets where most of the shops were located, and looked in at the clothing hanging in the windows. Perhaps it was only the tiredness that made her feel dislocated; as though in some way her access to this place, these businesses, was restricted. A few shops had airconditioning, like the chemist, and she stayed in there for as long as she could without buying anything. She started to worry about what would happen next. Would he come into town to find her? She bought food from the deli and sat in the shade of the shop awning to eat. A woman she remembered from the pub walked by.

‘That Texas look after you eh,' she shouted. ‘Good fella Texas.'

A couple of men dressed in khaki shirts and shorts climbed out of a Toyota and slowly ambled past. She pretended not to notice their blatant gazes, their familiar remarks. She stared down the street, willing him to walk around the corner. By the time she finished her drink and looked up again, he was there with Maisie's husband, Eric. His feet were bare, his shirt unbuttoned, and under one arm he carried a carton of beer.

‘Go out to Eric's eh. He got some home brew.'

They drove out to Eric's block in the back of his Toyota. Maisie and another woman called Jill sat in the front with Eric. His place was on the outskirts of town, near where water had been diverted for irrigation, and on either side of the road, against the dark red dirt, were bright rectangles of green, as green as the grass in the south of England. He had a shed and a caravan and lots of pieces of broken machinery. Eric was a welder and he recycled discarded parts into obscure inventions that apparently made it easier to look after mills and bores.

They sat in the gap between the shed and the caravan. Eric called it his breezeway and they sampled his home brew and drank beer from the carton they had brought with them. Laura listened to the stories of people and places she didn't know and watched the light on the ground change shape with the angle of the sun.

Just before nightfall, Laura found herself with Texas in the park near the pub. It was the twilight time when, after drinking all day, her mind was still able to assemble an image or two to make sense of her surroundings. She had an idea and she held Texas's arm, leading him towards the motel. When they reached the office, he wouldn't go any further. She told him to wait for her. And when she came back with the key, he pulled her clumsily towards him. They lay on top of the bed and the airconditioner was loud. He was asleep almost immediately and she held on to him tightly.