Dirt Bomb by Fleur Beale Page A

cows.
    But Gramps was all lit up with his headlights on full beam. ‘Good for you, Jake. Good for you. Your mum will be so proud.’
    I escaped to the computer. Would they both be all over me when I came home covered in cow shit? I sat watching a blank screen. It felt like my future — all black.
    Gramps came bustling in. ‘Get in the car, lad. We’re going to outfit you for the job.’
    I opened my mouth, but he flapped a hand in my face. ‘My shout. Gumboots and overalls. That’ll do for a start.’
    This time I managed to slide a word or two in. ‘I don’t even know if anybody will want me. I don’t know how to milk.’
    He rubbed his hands together, then smoothed them over his bald skull. ‘Course they will. And you’ll need them while you’re learning. Can’t go into a shed wearing shorts and jandals.’
    I was caught like a cow in a bail. There’d be no turning back if he bought me the gear. I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut. I tried for the casual approach. ‘I’m going to talk to Buzz first. He’ll know if farmers are still needing relief milkers.’
    Gramps pulled up a chair so he could sit beside me. I braced myself. I hated it when he got all understanding and caring.
    ‘Listen Jake.’
    Like I had a choice?
    ‘You’re a good lad.’
    So far so normal. I was always a good lad when he wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do.
    He leaned back so he could take in my entire good self. ‘I don’t blame you for hating the idea of milking. It won’t be so bad. You’ll get used to it.’
    ‘Yeah? What would you know about it?’ I asked. He’d been a carpet layer. You didn’t get too many cows wanting carpets laid.
    ‘I’ve milked a few thousand cows in my time,’ he said. ‘Different then, of course. Now they’ve all got those herringbone sheds. Much easier.’
    Yeah yeah — things were always harder in his day. Still, I had to admit to being surprised. He’d kept his cow career under wraps my whole life. ‘I need to talk to Buzz,’ I said. ‘He’ll have to show me what to do. The farmers he milks for — they mightn’t want a learner in their sheds.’
    Gramps got even more understanding. I got the caring-hand-on-the-knee trick. ‘Jake, lad — you’re going to get nowhere fast if you’re all talk and no action.’
    I stood up. ‘Thanks Gramps, but no gear. Not yet. I am going to do it, but I want to do it my way. Okay?’
    He went off, shaking his head.
    I wished Buzz would get home. Tail-gating that thought was another one: when Buzz got home I’d have to face up to the milking idea. I went looking for Speck. She was an excellent listener and I needed to have a grandfather of a moan.

Chapter Fourteen
INTERESTING IDEA IN ACTION
    BUZZ RANG ABOUT seven o’clock. ‘Where the hell is Robbie? His mother just says he’s out.’
    Deadpan, I asked, ‘Did you try his mobile?’
    Buzz said, ‘Don’t be a dick.’
    So I delivered the next line. ‘He’ll be with his girlfriend. Her name’s Jayna, she’s a Pom, and he chatted her up on the beach.’
    ‘What? Jeez! I can’t leave you two alone for a minute!’ He was laughing. ‘He’s got himself a girlfriend? How many times has he forgotten her name?’
    I told him about the phone and how he’d almost run into the sea with it. ‘He’s one big ball of love.’
    ‘Is he gunna come to the paddock tomorrow?’ Buzz asked. ‘I vote we still go. Love’s not a good enough excuse to stay away.’
    That was a load off my mind. ‘He’ll be there, but he reckons he’s leaving early. To hang out with her.’
    ‘Jeez,’ Buzz said, ‘he’s got it bad.’
    ‘Tell me about it! Actually — don’t.’ I’d had enoughof Robbie and his girl. ‘How was Auckland?’
    ‘It was okay. All right actually.’ He sounded upbeat, but before I could ask if he’d hitched up with a girl at the wedding, he said, ‘How’s the job scene?’
    ‘Nothing doing,’ I said, and my mind was spinning in overdrive. This was it. This