Catherine Jinks TheRoad (43 page)

‘I’m a local too,’ said Alec.

Everyone stared at him, including Verlie. His eyes were shut. He looked drained and tired.

The driver – whom Verlie couldn’t see as more than a dense shadow, from her vantage point – turned off the vehicle’s engine, and addressed Alec.

‘You what?’ she said.

‘I’m a local too,’ he repeated, his voice low and husky. ‘I know this road. It’s me route, okay? I started in Mildura this morning with a seven-hundred-litre fuel load. And this is as far as I got.’

To Verlie, such a revelation meant precisely nothing. She used the silence that followed it to spare a thought for the children, who seemed nervous and washed-out. Her husband, however, clearly spent the time more productively, turning numbers around in his head.

‘Is that normal?’ he finally asked Alec. ‘How long did it take you?’

‘That can’t be right,’ the harsh-voiced driver objected. ‘Nah. Seven hundred litres – what are yiz drivin, a container ship?’

‘That’s why I flagged down those two blokes,’ Alec continued, without answering either question. ‘Chris and Graham. They were headin for Broken Hill, but we never got there. Drove and drove and never got there. Ran outta petrol. Refilled. Kept goin. Finally I got ’em to turn back, and track down a land line. That’s why we . . .’ He jerked his head, as if everyone else knew the end of the story. But Ross didn’t.

‘Why you what?’ he demanded. Verlie sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere; she realised that at least some of the station wagon’s occupants could have finished Alec’s sentence for him. Moreover, from the way that Noel lowered his head and pursed his lips, she deduced that the story’s ending wasn’t an entirely happy one.

Before Alec could explain, however, the driver suddenly interrupted. She said to him: ‘Whaddaya sayin, mate? That we’ll never get to Broken Hill?’

There was a pause. Then Alec shrugged. ‘You could try,’ he mumbled.

‘Eh?’

‘I said
you could try
.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Now don’t let’s get stroppy, Del, please,’ Noel broke in. ‘Alec has had a tough time, you know that.’

‘Why?’ said Ross. ‘What’s going on?’

Del and Noel exchanged glances. Linda leaned forward, placing one hand on the back of her husband’s seat.

‘Excuse me – Verlie, is it?’ she said.

‘Yes.’ Stooping a little, Verlie could see Linda’s face. Light gleamed along the bridge of her nose, and the rim of one eye socket. Her skin looked greasy. ‘Yes, I’m Verlie.’

‘Are you cooking something, Verlie? I can smell food.’

‘Oh!’ Verlie had forgotten her spaghetti. ‘Yes I am, as a matter of fact –’