Fresh Fields by Peter Kocan Page A

replied that they weren’t there. The old lady clicked her tongue with impatience and began to go out of the kitchen. At the door she paused and looked at the youth.
    â€œDon’t worry,” she said with a wink. “It’s our little secret.”
    Â 
    A COUPLE of days later the youth got his chance to go to a shop, though it was only the general store in Burrawah.
    Mr. Coles had to pick up some things and the youth said he needed a few odds and ends himself. “Better come along then,” said Mr. Coles. The youth summoned the courage to mention that he didn’t have any money and that he’d like to get a bit of his pay to spend. Mr. Coles seemed surprised, then said he wasn’t sure whether there was anything owing to him. The youth went red with embarrassment. Maybe he was demanding something he wasn’t entitled to. And yet how could there not be something owing to him after all this time? He screwed up his courage again.
    â€œUm, I just thought there
might
be something due.”
    â€œWell, there could be. I don’t know. Mrs. Coles does the books. I’ll have to check with her. Remember, though, that you got your coat and boots and hat as an advance on wages.”
    The youth had forgotten that. He flushed red again, feeling that he’d put himself completely in the wrong. The thing was, he didn’t know what his weekly pay was supposed to be. No-one had ever mentioned it and he’d never felt bold enough to ask. Deep down he found it hard to believe that his services, such as they were, could be worth anything.
    Just before they left in the truck for the township, Mr. Coles came from the house and handed the youth some money. There were notes and some coins.
    â€œThat brings you till Thursday of last week,” he said gruffly. “Mrs. Coles has totted it all up.”
    The youth felt he’d created an unpleasant situation and should apologise. But he didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent. Mr. Coles did not speak either on the drive into Burrawah, except to yell at a steer that had escaped from someone’s paddock and was standing on the road. “Get out of it, you beggar of a blasted animal! Get the blazes out of it!”
    Burrawah was a tiny place. There was just Dawson’s general store and a straggle of dwellings along a stretch of dirt road. The general store was interesting, though. It was old-fashioned, with a wide verandah and rusted tin signs for brands of tea and bleach and aspirin. There was a cockatoo on a stand by the door. The bird was attached to the stand by a little chain on its leg, like a convict, and looked very glum.
    The inside of the store was dim and the youth had to let his eyes adjust. But after a few weeks away from the world, it seemed like Aladdin’s Cave. There was a rack of magazines and the youth scanned their covers eagerly. He was looking for anything about Sweetheart. At first he saw nothing, but then his heart leapt. On the cover of
Home Ideas
was the headline: “A Princess Looks Back: Does Grace Still Yearn for Hollywood?” The youth picked the magazine up with shaking hands and leafed through it. There was a three-page spread with photos of her in various movie roles. What a wonderful find this was! How right he’d been to ask to come to the store and to demand some of his money! He felt upright and brave, like a knight who has won his way to the fair lady by his undauntedness.
    The store man was outside with Mr. Coles and the youth could hear them talking about sheep-drench. There were no books for sale and no bed-lamps. They would have to wait till he could get to Balinga. He wanted to buy some food, something that would keep well and that he could have in reserve in his room for those times when he didn’t feel filled up by the meals provided.
    The storekeeper came inside with Mr. Coles and the youth paid him for two large packets of biscuits, some toothpaste and the magazine.