didn’t tell anyone he was sending a female truckie
. Maybe so they didn’t have the chance to object, maybe to give her the opportunity to create an impression without being prejudged. Whatever his motive, it didn’t matter now. She was here, she was the driver, she was the manager of this depot, and there was a lot of work to be done. Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her short frame and stepped forward.
‘I’m Angela,’ she said, looking from one to the other. She smiled. ‘Some people call me Angel.’
The two men looked at each other, then back at Angela. The taller guy recovered first and shook her hand. ‘Jim,’ he said with a nod of his head. ‘Some people call me Jimbo.’
The short one swore softly under his breath. Angela turned to him.
‘You must be Ronnie. Mind your language, okay.’ She jerked a finger towards the cabin. ‘I’ve got a four-year-old on board.’
‘Well, I’ll be …’ Ronnie mumbled as he shook her hand.
Jim laughed. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. Welcome Angela. Or maybe we’ll stick with Angel, ‘cause that’s what you’llbe around here after delivering this lot.’ He slapped the side of the truck.
Ken Harris was out of town but he’d sent Jim and Ronnie to help. They used their battered forklift and the one Angela had brought, and unloaded while she did the paperwork in the office. Claudia had woken up in a much better mood and, being used to truck yards, she kept within the confines of the office and its small verandah.
News of Angela’s arrival travelled fast. The next few hours were so busy she didn’t have time to worry about the stunned looks and surprised silences from each new client. She received a short text from her father who was happy they’d arrived safely. In the back of her mind she stored some notes for the little conversation she’d have with him later, but for now she had a steady flow of vehicles coming into the yard, their owners hoping their goods were part of Angela’s cargo. She’d prepared herself for some difficult customers, but even if their items weren’t part of the load, no one complained. Last night’s rain was the talk of the day, and the way they were speaking, it was as if Angela had transported that into town as well.
Claudia proved to be a sweetener too. She smiled and chatted to everyone, and alternated between exploring the tiny office, playing with her toys, and watching the comings and goings from a broken seat on the verandah.
Eventually, the traffic to Angela’s door stopped and so did the forklifts. Jim stuck his head in the office.
‘The rest of the load is for the IGA. We’re going to get some lunch.’
Angela looked up from the pile of paper she was sorting on the gritty desk. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the half a sandwich she’d started the day with.
Claudia stood beside her. ‘I’m hungry, Mummy,’ she said in a little voice.
Angela stood up and scooped her daughter onto her hip. ‘You haven’t eaten anything today, you poor pumpkin.’
‘Do you want a lift?’ Jim offered.
‘We don’t need much. Is there a deli or a supermarket nearby?’
‘Depends what you call “nearby”,’ he chuckled. ‘The whole town is in walking distance if you have the time.’
Behind her, the phone rang. Angela turned to look at the old handset. It was coated with grime; she hadn’t even thought it worked. Claudia wriggled from her arms as she picked up the receiver. She hesitated, but a sharp, enquiring ‘hello’ boomed in her ear, forcing her to answer.
‘Ranger Transport, how can I help you?’
There was a brief pause before a man responded, although all she caught was ‘Frank’ and ‘IGA’. Claudia was tugging at her arm.
‘Mummy, I’m
hungry.’
Angela glanced down at her daughter, putting one arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close while she listened to Frank. Half the truck was loaded with supplies for his supermarket. It
. Maybe so they didn’t have the chance to object, maybe to give her the opportunity to create an impression without being prejudged. Whatever his motive, it didn’t matter now. She was here, she was the driver, she was the manager of this depot, and there was a lot of work to be done. Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her short frame and stepped forward.
‘I’m Angela,’ she said, looking from one to the other. She smiled. ‘Some people call me Angel.’
The two men looked at each other, then back at Angela. The taller guy recovered first and shook her hand. ‘Jim,’ he said with a nod of his head. ‘Some people call me Jimbo.’
The short one swore softly under his breath. Angela turned to him.
‘You must be Ronnie. Mind your language, okay.’ She jerked a finger towards the cabin. ‘I’ve got a four-year-old on board.’
‘Well, I’ll be …’ Ronnie mumbled as he shook her hand.
Jim laughed. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. Welcome Angela. Or maybe we’ll stick with Angel, ‘cause that’s what you’llbe around here after delivering this lot.’ He slapped the side of the truck.
Ken Harris was out of town but he’d sent Jim and Ronnie to help. They used their battered forklift and the one Angela had brought, and unloaded while she did the paperwork in the office. Claudia had woken up in a much better mood and, being used to truck yards, she kept within the confines of the office and its small verandah.
News of Angela’s arrival travelled fast. The next few hours were so busy she didn’t have time to worry about the stunned looks and surprised silences from each new client. She received a short text from her father who was happy they’d arrived safely. In the back of her mind she stored some notes for the little conversation she’d have with him later, but for now she had a steady flow of vehicles coming into the yard, their owners hoping their goods were part of Angela’s cargo. She’d prepared herself for some difficult customers, but even if their items weren’t part of the load, no one complained. Last night’s rain was the talk of the day, and the way they were speaking, it was as if Angela had transported that into town as well.
Claudia proved to be a sweetener too. She smiled and chatted to everyone, and alternated between exploring the tiny office, playing with her toys, and watching the comings and goings from a broken seat on the verandah.
Eventually, the traffic to Angela’s door stopped and so did the forklifts. Jim stuck his head in the office.
‘The rest of the load is for the IGA. We’re going to get some lunch.’
Angela looked up from the pile of paper she was sorting on the gritty desk. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the half a sandwich she’d started the day with.
Claudia stood beside her. ‘I’m hungry, Mummy,’ she said in a little voice.
Angela stood up and scooped her daughter onto her hip. ‘You haven’t eaten anything today, you poor pumpkin.’
‘Do you want a lift?’ Jim offered.
‘We don’t need much. Is there a deli or a supermarket nearby?’
‘Depends what you call “nearby”,’ he chuckled. ‘The whole town is in walking distance if you have the time.’
Behind her, the phone rang. Angela turned to look at the old handset. It was coated with grime; she hadn’t even thought it worked. Claudia wriggled from her arms as she picked up the receiver. She hesitated, but a sharp, enquiring ‘hello’ boomed in her ear, forcing her to answer.
‘Ranger Transport, how can I help you?’
There was a brief pause before a man responded, although all she caught was ‘Frank’ and ‘IGA’. Claudia was tugging at her arm.
‘Mummy, I’m
hungry.’
Angela glanced down at her daughter, putting one arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close while she listened to Frank. Half the truck was loaded with supplies for his supermarket. It
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