‘Chase? What kind of name is that?’
‘I think it must be his surname. Nick said that he was the one who ran the station anyway, so I guess he’s some kind of manager.’
Bea sniffed. ‘Not a very efficient one if he’s forgotten that we’re coming.’
‘He won’t have done that. Reliability is these guys’ middle name,’ said Emily confidently. ‘He just won’t be rushing.’
‘Evidently!’
Emily ignored her sarcasm. ‘The strong, silent types don’t bother with clock-watching. That’s what makes them so attractive. They’ve got all the time in the world, so they never hurry or get flustered. Bet you anything this guy rolls up in a checked shirt and a battered hat and says g’day in a slow drawl that’ll go with his slow smile and his slow hands—’
Starting to hyperventilate, she broke off and fanned herself with her plane ticket. ‘I can’t wait! He’ll be all brown and rangy, and his eyes will be crinkled at the edges from all that time he spends squinting at the far horizon.’ Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘He might be a bit shy, but he’ll be famous for his way with horses and don’t get me started on the things he can do with a lasso…! He can rope me in any day!’
Bea couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s famously rich fantasy life. ‘Aren’t you thinking of cowboys?’ she said. ‘In which case, you’re in the wrong country.’
‘Same man, different hat,’ Emily declared authoritatively. ‘In the States, cowboys wear those hats which curl up at the sides, but an Australian stockman will wear an Akubra.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s like a cowboy hat, but not so curly.’
Bea was pretty sure that Emily didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but she knew from bitter experience that there was no point in arguing with her.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t got a hat of your own to go with your outfit,’ she said instead, eyeing Emily’s pristine jeans, blue checked shirt (clearly specially selected to match her eyes) and the red and white spotted neckerchief. ‘I didn’t realise we had to come in fancy dress. If you’d told me, I’d have brought along a Stetson and a fringed jacket!’
Emily tossed her blonde curls. ‘You can mock, but at least I’m appropriately dressed, unlike some people I could mention! I can’t believe you’re wearing a dress and those stupid shoes!’
‘You love these shoes,’ Bea pointed out, twirling her ankle so that she could admire them properly. They couldn’t really be called shoes. Shoes was much too prosaic a word for fantasy on heels. ‘You were furious when they told you they didn’t have any in your size.’
‘That was in Sydney. I’m prepared to admit that in their right context, they’re fab, but they look absolutely ridiculous out here. I don’t know why you couldn’t wear jeans at least,’ Emily grumbled. ‘It’s going to look as if you don’t know the first thing about the outback, and I’ll be associated with you.’
‘I don’t like travelling in jeans. Anyway, this Nick of yours didn’t specify a uniform, did he? He’s employing me to cook, not to sit around on fences looking like something out of a cowboy film.’
‘Well, don’t blame me when this Chase turns out to be a gorgeous hunk who dismisses you as a real city girl,’ said Emily with the air of one washing her hands of the matter. ‘You’ll be left gnashing your teeth and cursing your kitten heels while I’m out learning just how good he is with his hands!’
‘I don’t care how attractive he is, I wish he’d just turn up.’
Swinging her legs off her suitcase, Bea got up to prowl impatiently around the terminal.
It didn’t take long. The terminal wasn’t much more than a hut with glass doors looking out onto the runway. A couple of single-engine planes were parked to one side near a water tank, and a windsock hung limply against its pole. The sky was a relentless blue, and even cocooned in the air-conditioned comfort of the terminal, Bea could practically feel the heat beating down outside.
Beyond the runway, there was nothing, just an expanse of flat, brown earth covered with sparse spinifex grass stretching out to where the horizon shimmered hazily. It seemed to go on forever. Bea had been appalled flying over hundreds of miles of the same, unchanging scenery that morning. For a boring landscape, it was hard to beat. She couldn’t understand why Emily was so thrilled with it.
A fly buzzed against the glass, but apart from that the silence was crushing. Bea sighed and looked at her watch again.
‘Perhaps Nick Whatsisname has changed his mind and employed someone else,’ she suggested hopefully.
‘It’s Nick Sutherland, and I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that.’ Emily leapt to his defence. ‘He sounded really pleased when I rang and told him that you’d be coming with me. I wish you’d met him,’ she went on. ‘He was gorgeous, and nice with it—and we know what a rare combination that is!’
‘If he’s so nice, why isn’t he coming to pick us up himself?’
‘He’s not here.’ Emily sounded distinctly regretful. ‘His wife’s working overseas, and he’s gone to be with her. That’s why they need someone to look after the kids on the station.’
‘Wife?’ Bea shook her head in mock sympathy. ‘It must have been a bit of a blow when you heard about her!’
Emily sighed. ‘I know…but I suppose he was a bit old for me. And he did say something about a brother,’ she added airily.
‘Younger brother?’
‘I think so.’
‘Married?’
‘No. I’m pretty sure Nick said he wasn’t.’
All was now becoming clear to Bea.
‘Name?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Emily regretfully. ‘I couldn’t ask too many questions. I didn’t want to look too obvious, and Nick didn’t say very much, just that he would be keeping an eye on things. I got the impression he might have his own property.’
‘Shame. Bit of a waste of your country-girl outfit if he’s not even going to be there!’
‘Oh, well, there’s always this Chase person. I know a manager isn’t quite the same but I bet he’s to die for.’
‘He might be married.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. These guys don’t get out much,’ said Emily hopefully. ‘I’ve always fancied having a wild affair with a strong, silent farmer type. Anyway, with any luck we’ll have the brother and the manager, so we can have one each!’
‘Thanks, but I’ve always thought the appeal of the strong, silent type was overrated. I like a man who can talk about something more than cows. I’m going outside to see if there’s any sign of him.’
Retrieving the sunglasses from the top of her head, Bea settled them on her nose and pushed open the door. The heat hit her like a blow, and even behind her glasses she had to screw up her eyes against the glare.
At least there was no chance of missing anyone on a road like this, she thought, squinting first one way and then another along an absolutely straight, absolutely empty, road. She hoped one of Emily’s fantasy figures would turn up soon, as the only alternative was clearly going to be to walk into town, and it looked like a very long way.
It was a relief to get back into the air-conditioning, but both girls were soon thoroughly bored and fed up. They took it in turns to go outside and check on the traffic, but in an hour and a half counted only three road trains rumbling past.
Eventually