LITMIR.BIZ

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anyone drive so fast. Even going through the town, I had to hang on tight. I was breath-stopped and it was only through good luck we weren’t cop-stopped. When we got out on the country roads she zoomed along like someone lit her fuse.

      “Gran, slow down!” I yelled.

      “No fear, lovie! We’ve got a long way to go!”

      Luckily after a bit we got on to a road with almost no traffic. I say “luckily” – it wasn’t really, because then she went faster than ever.

      At first there was forest on each side that seemed to go on for ever, but after that was even more for ever with what looked like sheep and wheat farms. It was endless, endless driving. I got sort of hypnotised by the long, dead straight road. Passing another vehicle was an event. There were a few enormous, humungous trucks with two or three containers attached. Gran called them road trains. But there wasn’t much else on the road at all.

      Then it changed. On either side were low banks of bright red earth, and trees and bushes, sort of greyish-green, not like English ones. It just went on and on, mile after mile the same. I said to Gran, “Is this it – the bush?”

      “Well, you know what they say! The bush is always 50 k on from wherever you are! But I’d call this the beginning of it.”

      I said, “I thought it would be more, like, desert.”

      “This is a sort of desert. It’s very dry. But it’s full of life. Snakes, goannas, emus… This is roo country. That reminds me, I should slow down now.” And she did. “I have to watch out for them because they’ve got no road sense. They just bound right out on to the road.”

      I saw a lot of birds fly up from a lump on the roadside. “Oh, look!” I said, pointing. “Is that a dead one?”

      “Yeah. He’s just roadkill now, poor old thing. And that was a wedge-tailed eagle, eating him,” she said, pointing to a huge bird that was flapping away. An eagle! It gave me a kind of shiver of excitement to see a real eagle.

      I kept looking for live roos but I didn’t see one. I was glad. I didn’t want one to jump out in front of us and get hit. I saw more dead ones, though, and there were waves of stink in the air.

      On and on we drove. At times I thought I might be getting bored, but there was always something new to see. The trees were sort of wonderful. I’d never seen anything like them at home. Gran said, “Pretty well everything here is different from everything anywhere else. It’s because Australia was cut off from the rest of the world, millions of years ago, and different kinds of plants and animals evolved. That’s what makes this such an exciting, wonderful place. Aren’t you glad I brought you?”

      Well, I was. At least, I had been, till now. Now we were driving alone through the bush in this clapped-out rusty tin can, which I kind of thought might break down, and Gran had changed. I began to feel just a little bit uneasy. It was pretty obvious we weren’t going back to the hotel that night. Maybe not at all.

      After about five hours, when I was stiff and starving, we stopped in a little town. It was so different from Perth! Perth is like any big city (only a lot nicer, certainly than London). This was like something out of an old Western movie, except for all the utes parked along the street instead of horses. The buildings had those funny wooden fronts, and the men walking around looked kind of like cowboys, in a way. Gran parked outside a bar and we went in. I was sure someone would say I was too young, but nobody took any notice. There was hardly anyone in this bar place, and it was dark and dreary. As soon as I walked into it, I wanted to leave, but I needed a pee like mad and by the time I got back Gran’d ordered hamburgers and some Cokes. I counted the cans. Five. I looked around to see if anyone else had joined us.

      “Who are all the Cokes for, Gran?”

      “One for you, four for me. Or, if you’re really thirsty, two for you and then I’ll have to order another for me.”

      I’d never seen anyone drink like she did. She just poured it down as if she didn’t have to swallow. At the end of each can she’d smack her lips and pick up the next.

      “What I couldn’t do to a beer!” she said. “But don’t you worry, sweet-pants. I’m just rehydrating myself. I wouldn’t drink and drive.” I didn’t say anything. I knew my dad sometimes had, even though he’d never been stopped. Mum used to totally panic… Of course, that was when we had an old banger. Needless to say, he took it with him when he left us.

      We set off again. I asked where we were going. You’ll think it’s about time I thought to ask that, but up till then I’d just been kind of going with the flow. I’d got out of the habit of asking questions.

      She shouted above the motor, “Can’t you guess? We’re going to my station.”

      I gawped at her. I was thinking railway or tube stations, like, Peckham Rye (ours), or Hammersmith (Nan’s) or Waterloo. “You’ve got a station?”

      “Course I have! I told you about it.”

      She hadn’t. She had not. She’d never mentioned a station. I’d have remembered.

      I’d have asked her to tell me more, but the motor was roaring and I felt too exhausted. The country was more like desert now. There weren’t so many trees, just these low bushes and big tufts of tall grey grass. There wasn’t much to look at, and it was getting hotter and hotter. And dustier. I kept washing the dust out of my throat with one of the big water bottles. At last I fell asleep.

      Gran woke me up. It was dark. We must’ve been driving all day.

      “Right, Stacey-bell, out you get and help me make a fire.”

      I slid out of the cabin and almost fell over a pair of wellies. “Put those on,” said Gran. “And take this torch. There’s lots of wood around. But be sure you kick it before you pick it up.”

      “Why?”

      “Why d’you think?”

      I had no idea why anyone would kick wood. But as I was taking my sandals off to put on the rubber boots, a terrible idea came into my head.

      “Gran! Are there snakes around here?”

      “There might be. But just remember, the snake that bites you is the one you don’t see, so keep a lookout.”

      Oh my God. I nearly fainted. I already said how I hate snakes. I’ve always had a thing about them. I don’t know why because, like I said before, I’d never seen one. They just give me the creeps.

      I shot back into the cabin of the ute and sat there shivering with my legs tucked up, imagining loads of snakes coming slithering right up the step and on to the ute floor. Gran came round to my side. “Get out, Stacey,” she said. I think that was the first time she’d called me by my name and not some nickname. And it was the first time I’d heard her use an ordering tone to me. When I still didn’t move, she said, “Don’t be such a pom.”

      “What’s a pom?” I asked. My teeth were chattering. Honest to God, they were.

      “An English person is a pom. Poms have a bad name with us Aussies for being whingers. I’m not having a whingeing pom for a granddaughter. Now get these boots on your feet and get me some wood or there’ll be no food.”

      “I don’t want any. I want to go back to sleep.”

      “We’ll make up the beds when we’ve eaten.”

      “What beds? I’m not sleeping anywhere near the ground!”

      “You’re sleeping in the back of the ute. Nothing can get at you there. Come on, now, hurry up, I’m starving.” When I still didn’t move, she said, “We must make a fire to keep the dingoes away.”

      I knew dingoes were wild dogs. Dingoes are fierce. I’ve read about it. They eat babies.

      I thought of those movies about African safaris or American cowboys where the campfire keeps wolves and other dangerous animals from coming

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