Family Farm (8 page)

It was an especially hot day. The radio announcer forecast thirty-nine degrees. But as there was no wind, there was no harvest ban – yet. Only a couple of weeks into harvest and already she was annoyed with the heat, flies and the boredom. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to do. Instead she was stuck sitting around the house or ferrying Dad’s smoko out to him. Big thrill that was.

Izzy sat waiting for Dave in the ute. Bill had already called Dave on the two-way, informing him they had another twenty-five tonnes ready to go. Izzy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and kept looking out the back window of the ute, which she’d parked next to the field bin and tractor.

A dust trail signalled Dave’s approach and quickly she jumped out. His truck made its way into the paddock and headed straight for the silver field bin. Seconds later, golden grains began to flow from the auger into the semitrailer, pinging as they hit the empty metal bin.

‘Cheers, Izzy,’ Dave called out as his long, scrawny form strolled towards her.

‘Hey, Dave. How’s it going? Flat out, I presume?’

Dave raised his wide-brimmed hat and scratched his head through his sandy-coloured hair. He was a good bloke: worked hard, never sat still, and would go out of his way to help anyone. Izzy had known Dave her whole life and he always had time for her. He talked to her, not down at her. She used to mix with his two girls, Daisy and Bridgette, until they went on to uni. Now Daisy was training to be a nurse and Bridgette was out teaching at some remote school.

‘Sure am. Neville Lane has just had a breakdown with his truck and it won’t be fixed till tomorrow. I’m like a dog with a cracker up its arse trying to keep up with the extra work. What pisses me off is that I’ve a truck sitting at home that could be doing something,’ he said, his face contorted with stress.

Izzy brought her hand up to her chin and rubbed it. ‘Well, I have my truck licence. If you’re desperate, I could drive for you today if it’d help. I have plenty of experience.’

Hope flashed across Dave’s face. ‘For real?’

Izzy shrugged. ‘Why not? Dad won’t even know I’m gone. It’d be great to be doing something besides sitting on my arse all day.’

‘That sure would help me out of a jam. It’s only Neville who will have loads for you. You remember the blue Dodge I’ve got?’

Izzy smiled and nodded. Sometimes Dave brought the truck out on weekends to make extra storage space, so they could keep harvesting.

‘You think you could handle it?’

‘Yep. No problems.’ She struggled to contain her excitement. Not many people would get excited about having to drive an old truck in this heat, she guessed.

‘Great! I’ll drop you off and get you sorted out before I take this lot into the bin.’ They both nodded in agreement before Dave climbed onto the semitrailer to check the level.

Later that morning the old blue Dodge spewed out black smoke as Izzy clunked it into an idle. After waving his finger and giving her a couple of tips, Dave headed off in his truck to unload. Izzy left Dave’s yard and headed south towards Neville’s place. The truck rocked along the flat road. It took a few minutes of grating a couple of gears before she got the hang of the difficult gearbox. But soon she relaxed, stuck her elbow out the window and watched the golden crops spread out in the paddocks either side of her, all the way to the horizon, in between a smattering of mallee trees and towering gums. Every now and then, she passed a bare dry paddock that had been left out of the crop-rotation plan and sheep would be visible, usually gathered together under the only bit of scrub bush or gum tree they could find.

Nev was working in his top paddock and, as per Dave’s directions, Izzy turned off the gravel road and headed into the bottom corner of the paddock. She bounced in her seat, dust exploding around her as the truck bobbed along the rough plough marks.

With the truck lined up under the field bin, Izzy got out and cranked up the auger. It didn’t take long to fill up the trailer, all sixteen tonnes. Goose, Neville’s son, had pulled up in their green JD header and unloaded his boxful into the semitrailer as well. Goose was about twenty-eight and well-rounded. Plenty of beer had helped fill out his middle and his neck was solid like a rugby player’s. He was heading down the right track to look just like Neville. But what they lacked in the looks department they made up for in character, as never could two funnier blokes be found.

Izzy shut down the tractor and gave Goose a wave, before climbing back into the cab and sliding it into gear. She was tempted to pick up the two-way and say g’day but she couldn’t remember their channel number. The truck lurched slowly over the ruts in the paddock, throwing Izzy about before she eased on the brakes near the gate. Quickly, she got out, rolled on the tarp over the wheat that had settled into the trailer and headed back onto the main road.

Five minutes later the truck roared its way around the receival bin at Pingaring and pulled up next to the sampling platform. Izzy jumped out of the cab and tugged her denim shorts down – the jerking of the truck had made them ride up. She shook the bottom of her blue singlet, shaking off the dust and letting the air cool her down. It was dusty and hot but she was enjoying every moment of it. Then she unrolled the tarp back ready for the sample to be taken.

‘G’day,’ said a girl, fresh out of high school. She looked barely sixteen with her pimply face and puppy fat. Half of the samplers were usually just out of school; Izzy had been. The girl stood above Izzy on the platform while moving the electronic sampling spear into the back of the truck. There was a loud strained noise, like a vacuum cleaner on steroids, as it started to suck up the sample. Izzy began to fill in the delivery form just as another truck pulled up. A cloud of fine gravel dust filled the air, making her choke. She hopped back behind the wheel.

Sitting still in the stationary truck caused more sweat to break out on her forehead and around her hairline. It ran down between her breasts, collecting the dust on her skin and soaking into her bra. The green light came on indicating that the teenager had finished taking the sample. Izzy moved Dave’s truck forward, making room for the trucks behind her. Grabbing her paperwork she headed up the metal stairs to the top of the sampling platform.

Laughter exploded as she opened the door. Ducking quickly, she narrowly missed a handful of grain that one of the sampling girls had thrown at a bloke standing by the counter. She swung around quickly and was startled to see it was Will. Well, no surprise really. She should have known the huge shining white Scania road train outside was his.

Luckily, Will was too preoccupied chatting up the female sampler, a girl called Kellie, to notice Izzy enter. Another local guy was leaning on the thin wall next to the door and said g’day as she came in. Travis was a bloke she’d gone to primary school with and hadn’t seen in ages. He now had a full head of dreadlocks, making him almost unrecognisable.

‘Hey, Izzy. I didn’t know you were back in town.’

Will’s head snapped around at the mention of her name. Izzy manoeuvred her back to him as she continued her conversation with Travis.

‘I haven’t had a chance to get out and about much till now. It’s great catching up when I can, mind you. How have you been keeping, Trav? Been to Jamaica lately?’ She laughed, tugging one of his long brown dreadies.

Travis put on his best West Indian accent and replied, ‘Ha, ha, everyone’s a comedian, man!’ He tucked a few stray dreadies behind his ear. ‘Well, we’re doing okay. We’re having a good harvest this year, which is keeping us all happy for now. Other than that, there’s not much time for anything else. What are you up to? Come in for a look around, have ya?’

‘Something like that,’ Izzy replied, not going into details. She didn’t want Will to know she was driving Dave’s truck, just in case he blabbed to her dad.

Travis gave a little laugh and punched her gently on the shoulder. ‘You know I can still remember when you were sampling here a few years back. I’ll never forget pulling up and seeing you out there spearing trucks in this gorgeous little blue dress, made up to the nines!’ he said. ‘Best sampler I’d ever seen.’

Izzy blushed. ‘Oh, God, don’t remind me.’ She could remember it well. It was after she’d finished high school. Will hadn’t been around then, and Izzy had gone a bit wild after losing Claire. She’d kind of become more like Claire in her partying ways. Izzy recalled going to a huge bash at a local pub called the Oasis. It had been such an awesome night – so good she’d passed out in the back of her ute some time around three or four in the morning. When she’d finally woken, she’d only had enough time to drive back to the bin and start work. They’d had the biggest line-up of trucks that morning too. There she’d been at seven o’clock in the morning in her frock and make-up with a throbbing headache. Just to finish the look, her Rossis had quickly replaced her high-heeled shoes. She’d had to get another girl to spear for her as too many blokes were milling around under the platform. Izzy knew her short dress was the reason. Sly buggers. But there were always a few antics at harvest to relieve the stress. Some days the blokes would bring in porn mags, and they’d all clamber around under the platform and discuss the pictures. It was the perfect opportunity to pour water over the unsupecting men, who looked like they needed a cold shower. There was also the standard grease under the door handles and egg on the windscreens of trucks waiting in line. Really mature stuff. Not to mention Johnno’s old fire truck that made its rounds, squirting surprised bin crew and blokes through their open truck windows.

‘Word must have got around quick that day, because I’d never seen so many header drivers bringing in the next truckload,’ Travis said, teasing her.

Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘It wasn’t till about eleven that there was a break in the trucks and I could go and change. I didn’t think I was ever going to live that one down.’

Travis smiled and gave her a wink. ‘Come on. That was the best day ever. We had that awesome bin party the next day too,’ he continued as he walked up to the counter to take his logbook from a short, young girl.

‘Well, I hope to see ya round, Izzy. Be nice to catch up on old times.’

‘Yeah, for sure,’ she replied.

‘I can’t wait to tell Jess that I’ve seen you.’ Travis waved and headed outside. The wind caught the door and blew it shut behind him.

Izzy leant against the vibrating wall and watched a machine shaking wheat back and forth, before it eventually came to a stop. She wondered for a minute why Travis would be seeing Jess. She was dying to see her and felt guilty for letting their friendship lapse. It was one of those things where life just got too busy and before you knew it years had passed without any contact. Sad, but she hoped they could pick up where they left off.

Izzy glanced around the white walls of the sample hut as she waited. There were large posters of bugs and weevils, plus lists of grain varieties, and Will leaning against a wall. Bugger, she’d mistakenly caught his stare. She nodded her head when he said, ‘Hello.’

Her eyes returned to Kellie as she took the top screen off and put it on the benchtop, before emptying the remaining screenings into a bowl on the scales and weighing them. The sampling process hadn’t changed much from when she’d worked at the bin. It looked like they’d finished Will’s sample, as a girl with large breasts in a child-size tank top gave Will his book. She leered over the bench at him, smiling sweetly. Will thanked her and turned to leave, but hesitated when he was level with Izzy.

‘If you’re not doing much, you could always come for a ride in the truck with me instead of Dave?’ he suggested.

Not if it was the last truck on earth, she thought, before coming up with a better retort. ‘No, thanks. Besides, I’d hate to spoil your chances with your fan club.’ And with that she moved up to the bench to wait for her book. Will got the message and headed out the door. Izzy smiled and chalked up a point on her imaginary scoreboard.

Driving the truck all day had been a blast, even if the truck was old and rough and not far off retirement in a metal scrap heap. It had given her a chance to meet the bin crew again and catch up with some of the locals as they waited in line.

Dave gave her a ride back out to the farm at about five-thirty. Her dad was still on the header going round and round, and would be for another couple of hours. The afternoon air was warm as she climbed down from Dave’s truck. She was hanging out for a cold beer. Running her tongue over her parched lips, she could almost taste the first frothy white mouthful.

‘Hey, Izzy. Two hundred and fifty sound okay for the day’s work?’ Dave asked as the golden grains of wheat poured into the trailer in front of the pinkish afternoon sky.

‘Oh no, Dave. I don’t want any money. It was great just to be doing something,’ she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

‘Are you sure? You helped me out of a tight spot today and it’s only right that you get paid.’ Dave wiped the sweat from his brow.

‘No, I’m sure. Besides, you did me the favour. Please, Dave, keep it. Why don’t you take that lovely wife of yours out to tea or something instead?’

Dave shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. ‘You were a huge help today, Izzy, and I can’t thank you enough, but if you insist.’ It was the end of the discussion.

Izzy wasn’t fazed. She’d had a great day and was happy to have helped. It was nice to return the favour. Dave’s wife Melinda had always been so kind when Izzy had gone to their place to play with Daisy and Bridgette. She’d let the girls do all sorts of fun things, from dressing up in the old dresses she’d kept from the seventies to making cakes but leaving half the batter for them to eat. Izzy and Daisy were nearly the same age, and Claire and Bridgette were close as well, so the four of them often got together. Wandering back to the house, Izzy couldn’t help but drift off down memory lane …

One time when Izzy was about thirteen they’d been dressing up and they’d persuaded Claire to try a dress on.

‘Come on, Claire. Show us what you look like,’ Daisy had said, trying to coax Claire out of her bedroom.