followed his dish. The woman placed the bowl on the concrete. Then she turned to Louie.
“I’m Jolene, Willa’s mum.”
“Louie. Louie Angelo.”
“Come in.” Jolene, who showed no traces of her country and western background in a mohair jersey and polyester slacks, led Louie to the stairs. Through the glass doors off the hall Louie could see and hear the bar and she hoped none of the rugby guys from the other night could see her.
Willa was in the kitchen upstairs. Jolene walked in first, and announced, “There she is. Sixties,” she said, gesturing to Louie, “meet the seventies!” And she shut the door behind her.
Willa was wearing a long, embroidered coat that fell around her ankles, and tooled leather boots. Her hair was loose, with just a brightly-coloured scarf holding it off her face. Louie shook her head, confused.
“What’s she on about? Sixties, seventies? And what’s a beatnik?”
Willa laughed like her mother and shrugged. “Hey, I love that jacket. And it’s perfect for where we’re going.”
“Which is?” Louie sat down but stood up again immediately. The argument with her parents was gone; she was suddenly excited.
“Now that would be telling. It’s a dare, remember?” Willa smiled at her and stood up too. “You drive and I’ll navigate, okay?”
“Deal.”
p.
It was dark and warm, a strange nor’west wind rippling over the hills, as Louie and Willa motored over the open road south of the city. All around was farmland, and the occasional whiff of sheep or silage made them screw up their faces and buzz the windows shut in a hurry. Louie drove fast to please Willa and smooth round the bends, over rises, down dips. “Hang a right,” Willa said at one point, then “left, to the end of the road,” then “right, and right again.” There were no houses where she’d led Louie. There were no lights, just the vacuous black bucket of the sky punctured by sharp white stars. Finally, Willa directed her down a long gravel road and they parked in what appeared to be a patch of farmland in the middle of nowhere.
“What is this?” Louie shook her head, puzzled. “Are we meeting a UFO or what?”
“Something like that.” Willa jumped out of the car. Louie shrugged to herself and followed. To her right she suddenly noticed there were lights—coloured lights.
“Willa, what’s…?” They looked familiar. Blue lights, several of them as she looked harder. And further away some red ones and a building. The wind buffeted her off balance for a moment.
“It’s the airport,” she said out loud, realising. “It’s the airport, isn’t it, and that—that’s the runway!”
Willa was striding away into the black. “Yep. Come on, over here.”
“I don’t believe this. I do not believe it.” Louie broke into a jog and strained her eyes to see where Willa had gone. A few hundred metres across paddocks and over a wire fence, she caught up with her.
“There,” Willa said with satisfaction. “There she is.”
Louie followed her gaze. They stood about a paddock’s length away from the end of the runway, staring straight down the two lines of neon blue spots. At the far end of it were the flashing red and white lights of an airplane coasting into position.
“Oh shit. Oh my god. Is that thing going to take off? It is, isn’t it?” Louie looked at Willa, her heart already beginning to pump. “You’re mad. You’re absolutely bloody crazy. This is your idea of fun?”
Willa was transfixed by the sight of the plane. They could hear its engines in the distance—the combination of roar and whine that always thrilled Louie.
“You wait,” Willa whispered, and Louie looked at her for a moment, noting the fix of her eyes, the tension around her jawline and the little vein pulsing at her temple.
I am out oj control,
she thought.
If she asked me to throw myself under a jumbo’s wheels I’d say front or back ones?
The plane had come to a halt, facing them. For the
“I’m Jolene, Willa’s mum.”
“Louie. Louie Angelo.”
“Come in.” Jolene, who showed no traces of her country and western background in a mohair jersey and polyester slacks, led Louie to the stairs. Through the glass doors off the hall Louie could see and hear the bar and she hoped none of the rugby guys from the other night could see her.
Willa was in the kitchen upstairs. Jolene walked in first, and announced, “There she is. Sixties,” she said, gesturing to Louie, “meet the seventies!” And she shut the door behind her.
Willa was wearing a long, embroidered coat that fell around her ankles, and tooled leather boots. Her hair was loose, with just a brightly-coloured scarf holding it off her face. Louie shook her head, confused.
“What’s she on about? Sixties, seventies? And what’s a beatnik?”
Willa laughed like her mother and shrugged. “Hey, I love that jacket. And it’s perfect for where we’re going.”
“Which is?” Louie sat down but stood up again immediately. The argument with her parents was gone; she was suddenly excited.
“Now that would be telling. It’s a dare, remember?” Willa smiled at her and stood up too. “You drive and I’ll navigate, okay?”
“Deal.”
p.
It was dark and warm, a strange nor’west wind rippling over the hills, as Louie and Willa motored over the open road south of the city. All around was farmland, and the occasional whiff of sheep or silage made them screw up their faces and buzz the windows shut in a hurry. Louie drove fast to please Willa and smooth round the bends, over rises, down dips. “Hang a right,” Willa said at one point, then “left, to the end of the road,” then “right, and right again.” There were no houses where she’d led Louie. There were no lights, just the vacuous black bucket of the sky punctured by sharp white stars. Finally, Willa directed her down a long gravel road and they parked in what appeared to be a patch of farmland in the middle of nowhere.
“What is this?” Louie shook her head, puzzled. “Are we meeting a UFO or what?”
“Something like that.” Willa jumped out of the car. Louie shrugged to herself and followed. To her right she suddenly noticed there were lights—coloured lights.
“Willa, what’s…?” They looked familiar. Blue lights, several of them as she looked harder. And further away some red ones and a building. The wind buffeted her off balance for a moment.
“It’s the airport,” she said out loud, realising. “It’s the airport, isn’t it, and that—that’s the runway!”
Willa was striding away into the black. “Yep. Come on, over here.”
“I don’t believe this. I do not believe it.” Louie broke into a jog and strained her eyes to see where Willa had gone. A few hundred metres across paddocks and over a wire fence, she caught up with her.
“There,” Willa said with satisfaction. “There she is.”
Louie followed her gaze. They stood about a paddock’s length away from the end of the runway, staring straight down the two lines of neon blue spots. At the far end of it were the flashing red and white lights of an airplane coasting into position.
“Oh shit. Oh my god. Is that thing going to take off? It is, isn’t it?” Louie looked at Willa, her heart already beginning to pump. “You’re mad. You’re absolutely bloody crazy. This is your idea of fun?”
Willa was transfixed by the sight of the plane. They could hear its engines in the distance—the combination of roar and whine that always thrilled Louie.
“You wait,” Willa whispered, and Louie looked at her for a moment, noting the fix of her eyes, the tension around her jawline and the little vein pulsing at her temple.
I am out oj control,
she thought.
If she asked me to throw myself under a jumbo’s wheels I’d say front or back ones?
The plane had come to a halt, facing them. For the
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