CHAPTER 1
Mid afternoon Ed Bacon closed the stationery shop that was also a licensed Post Office, Lotto Agency and newspaper agency. The Town Clock chimed out three peels and the sound of children being released from school rang out in the distance.
The inhabitants of North Crossing, population 2700, and farmers and fruit and vegetable growers from surrounding areas preferred to shop early, so the shop opened at 6:00, five mornings a week and from 8:00 to noon on Saturdays.
Those hours suited Ed and suited everyone but the boisterous Fielder brothers – Jimmy, Neville and Dan – and their father Silas. But no matter what hours the regular operators chose to open would never satisfy those cantankerous clowns who delighted in adding to the misery of lives of folk around them.
Ed looked down at the crossing, that actually ran east-west across the North River, and saw a woman get out of her vehicle, look at the signposts and then look at them again before stamping her foot in the dust beside the paved road. She looked ready to clout someone. She drove up in her 4WD pickup. As she passed him, going slowly and looking grim, he called "Hi" and the vehicle stopped, there was an uncomfortable sound of badly meshing metal and the vehicle reversed until stopping, the driver now opposite him.
"Where's Fitzroy Crossing?"
Stubbing out his one cigarette of the day, Ed said, "Back forty-five miles the way you came."
"Shit!"
"Are you a lady?"
The reply was a withering look, a hiss coming through compressed lips.
He grinned. "You're lost."
She jammed down on her military-style cap and remained seated. "Laugh as much as you like you peasant. Where do I get diesel around here?"
"Everything around here shuts at 3:00, opens again from 6:00 am."
She snarled, "I'm near out of fuel."
"Too bad. You look rattled. Come home with me and I'll make strong coffee and do you a beef sandwich."
"What kind of racket are you pulling?"
Ed attempted to appear hurt. "I'm only being neighbourly, that's all."
"Well I'm not your neighbour."
He scratched at an ear lobe. "Well you are sitting too close to me to be anything else."
She smiled; she actually smiled and then asked, "Where's a motel?"
"We've got none but Fitzroy Crossing has three of them."
She scowled, "Oh thanks for that useful advice" and scratched under her left breast and catching Ed looking there snatched away her hand.
"Where's the hotel?"
"Burnt down. There was a riot inside it last year with the Fielder family upset the Catholics having a church service there on Christmas Day because their church was being renovated. The bars were closed during that ceremony. That night it burnt to the ground. Special police were brought in but they failed to pin the crime on to the Fielder mob or worshippers for that matter."
"You make it sound the Fielder mob are the only people around here with character; the others appear pious."
"I haven't spoken about other people."
"Then what are churchgoers and owners who shut their businesses down by mid-afternoon?"
"Dunno."
"I thought as much."
"Well are you coming or not? You can put your vehicle in the other half of my garage where the Fielder brothers won't see it. You can sleep with me if you like."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
"Are you crazy woman? I have class. You sleep on the sofa."
"If I'd turned right instead of left when meeting North River I would be in a motel by now, in a spa pool drinking cold beer."
"Well I have a tin bath I suppose you can use. Don't blame me for your stupidity. Women often don't know their right from their left."
"Listen you jerk, that's men you're talking about."
"And you are being so rude my offer of hospitality is about to be rescinded."
"Rescinded – that's a big word for you. Oooh, I'm sorry. That just slipped out."
The smile that almost looked apologetic twanged a soft cord within Ed so he said, "Well I suppose I could do with some company. Are you male or female?"
The tough-looking woman stared at him, shaking her head. "Christ that's the biggest, most pathetic insult that's ever been heaped on me. Are you suicidal?"
"Nope, just attempting to make conversation with an edge of wit."
The woman stared at him and Ed stared right back thinking fucking women, who do they think they are?
"Do you have cold beer at home?"
"Of course, what do you think I am... an idiot?"
"Well I suppose if I want a beer I should avoid comment on that. Jump in."
The horrible sound of protesting metal sounded again.
"You're only got the clutch pushed half in."
"Says who?"
Ed decided to shut up. What an aggressive bitch. Women are all the same; you can't tell them anything. "Drive around the block to behind this building. I'll open the garage door. I live above the shop which backs on to the garages."
"With the wife I suppose. Is she as insulting as you are with a suicidal bent or is she intelligent?"
"Are you insulting me?"
The bitch smiled, showing good teeth. "You tell me?"
Ed sniffed. "You are wearing perfume. You must be female."
"What's the penalty for murder in this state – we are in South Australia aren't we?"
"I don't murder so have no interest in knowing such detail. For your information I never into a regular turnover of women whom I toss out when the passion dies. I usually prevent them from wrecking the place or stealing anything when they leave."
"Christ, you almost sound like my kind of guy."
"Please don't insult me."
The pickup lurched on the sidewalk and the woman got it under control and back on to the street, narrowing avoiding hitting a street power pole. "Jesus asshole. Look what you made me do. Watch your mouth otherwise I'll fill it with your broken teeth," she said, lapsing into a drawl.
"Ohmigod, you're American."
"Yes, so you've taken in my superior intelligence?"
"No, your unremitting aggression, underlying the belief that if things don't go your way your natural instinct is to take the bastards out."
"Honey, that's not like Americans at all. We are peace-lovers and peace-keepers and we cannot be held responsible for believing the American way is the right way. Be a good man and open the glove box in front of you."
