Read Online Mountain Ash by Margareta Osborn - Free Book Online Page B

have been able to survive moneywise without the part-time nursing shifts. There it was, Alex again, taking charge. Trying to make life easier for her.
    â€˜ It was sad we had to sell your house, but it’s good we aren’t poor …’
    Yet. The solicitor would tell all tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow, though, didn’t it? Of all the shit days …
    â€˜ I like being here on McCauley’s Hill. Maybe you can look out for a dog called Boots, and an old man called Joe, living up there in heaven?
    â€˜ And I hope you had a good time when you were on land. Amen. ’
    What more could she say, but … ‘Amen.’
    Her daughter beamed up at her from the kitchen table.
    At least one of them was happy.

Chapter 8
    â€˜Where am I gunna go now?’ asked Wally, as they drove back towards the staff dongas. ‘Who’ll want an old bloke like me? Especially at this time of the year?’
    â€˜You got money?’ asked Nate.
    â€˜A bit. Not enough to get me through without a roof over me head though.’
    â€˜How about family?’
    The old man peered out the window towards the east. ‘A sister in Brisbane.’ He squinted his eyes, then looked towards the ute floor with studied interest. ‘She lives in a flat.’
    Nate felt his guts clench. A flat? Wally Price could never live in a flat. It wasn’t about the space inside the building either. The dongas they lived in out here were little more than a bedroom. It was what was outside the flat that was the problem. Urban sprawl – houses, concrete and people. A man like Wally needed space, open air and some solitude. And then there was his horse …
    â€˜We’ll pick up your stuff and you can come with me.’
    â€˜Yeah. She lives in the middle of Brisbane too, not on the outski– … What? What did you just say?’
    â€˜You can come with me.’ Nate pulled up at the staff quarters, bailed out of the ute and called back to a still stunned Wal: ‘C’mon, I want off this place before morning smoko.’

    â€˜What’s your dad gunna say?’
    Nate glanced in the rear-view mirror at the old Singer pedal sewing machine balancing precariously on his tray-back. ‘He’ll think I’ve turned into a fairy.’
    Wally swung around just in time to watch his prized machine bounce a few more inches towards the back of the tray. The horse float hitched behind the ute was in danger of wearing the antique as decoration. ‘Hey! Take it easy on those cattle grids, ay?’
    â€˜You want a roof over your head?’
    â€˜Well, yes, but I love that machine.’
    â€˜My father will think you’re the fairy then.’
    â€˜It was me mother’s. Does good leather work, as you well know.’
    Nate did know. He resisted the urge to look down at his ringer’s belt, handmade and tooled by the bloke sitting beside him. He concentrated instead on keeping the ute and float steady in the gravel.
    â€˜Maybe you should just drop me in Longreach,’ said Wally. His voice had a quiver to it and Nate could hear the other man try to swallow, make his voice firm and even. It didn’t work.
    Nate couldn’t believe Van Over had done this. Sure, get rid of him but not Wally. What had the man ever done exceptprotect a mate and sometimes see the bottom of too many bottles? ‘We’ll find you something to do. Might not be much money in it, but you’ll get a roof over your head and three meals a day. Mue’s a great cook.’
    At the mention of food, Wal’s interest shifted. ‘Who’s Mue?’
    â€˜She’s Dad’s housekeeper.’ Nate’s expression suddenly turned pensive. ‘Well, she was. That’s if the new bird hasn’t got rid of her.’
    â€˜She’s hardly likely to do that if it means getting her hands dirty, is she? That’s if she’s like what you’re saying?’
    Nate’s face