The Outback (2 page)

Chapter 2

The coach arrived at its
destination just after sunset. Main Street was deserted, but Matt could not
imagine it ever being otherwise. He could make out just two recognisable
businesses; a hardware store and grocers. The other buildings all appeared
fairly nondescript except for the town hall and what was possibly a contender
for the title of the world’s smallest police station.

Despite being one of the
first to dismount, Matt had to wait a short while to retrieve his backpack. The
conductor opened up the luggage compartment from the other side of the coach so
even though his bag had been one of the last ones on it was still at the rear
of the pile. This meant that he had to stand aside and wait for the mob to
clear away before he could get to it.

Once they had collected
their belongings the locals soon shuffled off to their homes or wherever it was
they were headed. This left behind four very confused backpackers, although
they were now technically migrant workers, which did not sound quite so
appealing.

The group endured
several tense minutes of waiting on the deserted sidewalk until a medium sized
bus pulled up alongside of them. Its bodywork was completely white and a thick
bull-bar over the front grille lent it a military like bearing. Peering through
the windows revealed that the interior furnishings had been stripped to the
bare basics, in some cases even exposing the metal framework underneath. It was
harsh and uninviting.

The driver of the bus
was a heavily set man in his early to mid sixties. He bore no uniform or
nametags so it was impossible for the group to discern who he was or where he
had come from. Leaving the engine running, he applied the handbrake and stepped
off to greet the new arrivals.

‘Welcome to Birribandi,’
he said. ‘My name is Joe. I run the local caravan park and I will also be your
employer for the next three months.’

His accent was English,
but his copper coloured, leathery skin suggested that he had spent a long time
living in Queensland’s punishing climate. He directed the four travellers onto
the bus, where they were careful to choose the least worn seats for fear of
sustaining an injury. They were each too apprehensive to start a conversation.

After about five minutes
the bus took a detour from the main road and brought them to the caravan park.

‘This is the oasis in
the desert that you’ll all be calling home for the foreseeable future,’ Joe
said, as he brought the bus to rest.

Matt counted more than a
dozen small caravans. They had all fallen into varying states of disrepair and
it was impossible for him to ascertain which were in use and which were
available as none emitted any interior light. If they had Butlins in Beirut
this is how Matt would imagine it to be.

‘Do we get to choose
which we want?’ he asked.

Joe stood and turned to
address the group from the front of the bus.

‘Numbers one to three
are already taken. You lot will take vans four and five, as it is more
economical to share. All of the vacant vans have had the mains disconnected so
don’t get any ideas about switching once I’ve gone.’

He spoke with weariness
in his voice, which suggested that he had conducted this orientation many, many
times before.

‘I take it that they
aren’t en-suite,’ said Colin.

‘There are toilets and a
shower block on site,’ replied Joe. ‘The hot water does not last long though,
so if you’re selfish everyone else will suffer. There is also a dining room
where you will be provided with an evening meal and can buy alcohol at
weekends. Do you have any questions?’

‘How much do we have to
pay for all of this?’ Matt asked.

Joe had eight eyes fixed
firmly upon him as he addressed the question of cost. Matt guessed that he was
not the only one who entered into this endeavour with only a vague
understanding of the figures involved. Like him the others would have found the
prospect of an extra year on their visas to be a far greater lure than any
financial incentive.

‘The accommodation and
meals will be automatically taken from your wages, which will leave you with
$90 a day to take home. The beer comes out of your own pocket and I suggest
that you all drink responsibly. It’s expected you’ll want a relaxing drink or
two after work, but save the heavier sessions for the weekend, okay.’

Joe made sure to
establish eye contact with each person in turn when stating the point about the
alcohol.

‘So we do get the weekends
off?’ asked Matt.

‘Depending on how
productive you are during the week, you may have to work some Saturdays. Sunday
will always be free though.’ He paused for a moment whilst considering how to
best phrase what he had to say next. ‘I won’t lie to you and tell you that the
work is not going to be tough – it is, but everyone will get sufficient time to
rest between shifts. I can promise you all that.’

‘I think that’s us
sorted then,’ said Colin. ‘If you’ve not got anything else to tell us I am
happy to start settling in.’

Jonas was the first off
the bus and he immediately went to look over the caravans. He found that they
all lacked one feature, which was an immediate cause for concern.

‘There are no locks on
these vans. Where do we store our valuable stuff?’

Joe was in the process
of removing everyone’s bags from the bus and he did not stop whilst answering
the question.

‘I recommend that you
keep your wallets and passports on you at all times, but everything else will
be fine. There are no thieves in this town. If you need anything else just give
me a call. My contact number is written on the evacuation plans in each of the
vans. For now though, I will wish you all good luck and expect to see you again
sharp and early on Monday morning.’

The Englishman then got
back onto the bus and drove away. Colin picked up his bag and walked past Jonas
to enter the next van. Since Matt was yet to establish any kind of relationship
with the German he followed Colin.

There were two beds and
Colin had already claimed his by placing his backpack upon it. As the Irishman
began to unpack, Matt noticed that his bag contained a large amount of what
looked suspiciously like weed. It was easy for him to guess at how his new
roommate planned to get through the next three months.

After taking a seat on
the other bed, Matt removed his mobile phone from his pocket in order to check
for a signal. Not a single reception bar was showing.

‘Is yours dead too?’
asked Colin, picking up on his disappointment.

Matt nodded. He supposed
it was too much to hope that his phone would have coverage in such a remote
location.

‘I guess technology is
pretty useless here,’ he said.

‘You just have to look
at the positives,’ replied Colin. ‘I don’t have a watch so I’ll still use mine
as a clock and the camera always comes in handy. Nothing is ever useless unless
you allow it to be.’

‘That’s all very well; I
only wish I hadn’t topped it up with $100 worth of credit yesterday.’

He had only been in town
for five minutes and already he had made a rookie mistake.

‘I’m guessing you only
have a certain time limit to use your credit before you lose it,’ said Colin.

‘Three months,’ replied
Matt.

The Irishman laughed.
Not to be patronising or condescending, but simply because he found it funny.
Matt wondered if it was a bad omen. He looked around for an excuse that he
could later use as a get-out clause should he wish to take an early retirement
from the harvest industry. The caravan held many options.

‘If it rains, I’m out of
here,’ he said, pulling away a sheet of cardboard by his bed to reveal a gaping
hole. ‘This place isn’t even watertight.

‘You’ll soon change your
tune. After a week in the field you’ll be praying for rain to come and give you
a day off work.’

‘Are you kidding me?
Judging by what we saw on the way in I doubt there would be much to do around
here at the height of summer never mind on a rainy day.’

The Irishman sighed.

‘If that’s your opinion
why did you come here in the first place?’

That was a question that
Matt was beginning to ask himself with increasing regularity. 

‘I already told you;
three months of hell is a fair trade off to get another year on my visa.’

‘Well, just remember
that those two out there haven’t got advanced language skills and therefore
don’t have the luxury of being able to take a high paying office job in Sydney
or Melbourne. They’re here out of necessity, not luxury, so it’s probably best
not to complain too much around here.’

‘You’re asking a Pom not
to whinge. You’ve got more chance of finding a pot of gold at the end of a
rainbow.’

‘Well, let’s hope there
are no more of your kin around here then,’ said Colin. ‘Are you coming out to
meet the others?’

‘Others?’

As far as he was aware,
Matt assumed it was just the four of them.

‘You didn’t think it
would be just us, did you? Your man said that some of the other vans were
occupied and I don’t think Birribandi attracts many holiday makers.’

***

Business was not running
smoothly for Joe. He had been just three weeks into a major contract when half
of his workforce deserted him. If he fell any further behind schedule he ran
the risk of being taken off the job, which would be nothing short of a
disaster. Normally he was able to offset his sparse returns taken during the
dry season with the summer harvest. Thanks to one of the worst cyclones in the
past twenty years the previous crop offered scant profits and he was now more
reliant than ever on his off season income.

Thirty years he had
spent building up his company and he was not prepared to let it fall apart so
easily. He was left with no choice other than having to go to the city to take
up some extra work. This required him to appoint a caretaker to take charge of
the business during his absence. The man he had chosen for the position sat
opposite him at the table. Their meeting was being held at the local pub as
this was the outback, where office space was deemed about as necessary as a
shearing shed was in the city.

‘So what do you think?’
Joe asked.

His companion took a
long draw on a cigarette, which was clasped tightly between his index finger
and thumb. So miniscule was the hand rolled tobacco tube that to any casual
bystander it would appear the man was simply giving his partner an OK sign.

‘So long as the four
newbies can handle the strain, we should be able to clear the fields in twelve
weeks.’

Joe had made the same
estimation. He hoped that advertising for a three month contract, which would
guarantee anyone who took the job a visa extension, would be enough of an
incentive for them to stay.

‘I’ve stipulated a
minimum term in the contract so they should all be in it for the long run.’

‘The job’s done then.
All that leaves for me to do is to keep them...focused.’

His counterpart finished
his sentence with a sneer that Joe was not wholly comfortable with. Entrusting
the business to this man was certainly a calculated risk, but a necessary one.
Due to the short notice with which he had to fill the role there was nobody
else in the town with the experience or the know how to do the job. He just
hoped that the decision would not be one he would later come to regret.

‘I’ll pick them up on
Monday and get them to work, but after that, they’re all yours.’

Joe extended his hand
across the table. The other man casually flicked his cigarette onto the floor
and then stubbed it out with his foot. The only effect a state wide smoking ban
had on him was the absence of a proper ashtray.

‘It’s a deal,’ the man
said, as he firmly met the grip of his new employer.

***

‘So what attracted you to
the glamorous world of stick picking?’ asked Niall

‘If I knew what stick
picking was, I would be better placed to answer,’ replied Matt. ‘Would I be
right in guessing that it involves sugar canes?’

Niall managed to keep a
straight face, but his three friends could not.

‘It’s not sugar canes,’
he said.

Along with Stephen, Rose
and Jenny, Niall had been in Birribandi for three weeks. In the eyes of the
newcomers this made him a veteran.

‘If you will be so kind
as to place another log on our campfire I will tell you what stick picking is,’
offered Rose.

She spoke with an
eloquence that was matched only by her delicate good looks. The archetypal
English beauty, she was as out of place in the desert as a farm hand would be
at the Royal Ballet. There was a small stack of wood propped against the
nearest caravan. Matt took a block from the top and dropped it onto the flames.
This elicited a rapturous cheer from his new friends.