Page 9 of Outback Hearts

‘Where else?’ Jill asked. She was stretched out in her camp chair, completely relaxed, looking more at home than Amelia had ever felt anywhere.

‘Undara lava tubes,’ Alex said. ‘Now that’s a geological wonder. Volcanic tunnels you can walk through, formed 190,000 years ago. You girls should add it to your list if you’re heading up to the Gulf Country.’

‘We might,’ Jill said. ‘I’d love to see them. I’m a bit of a geology nerd.’

‘Then you’ll love it,’ Alex said. ‘Ruby Gap too, down in the Northern Territory, east of Alice Springs. Red quartzite cliffs, palm trees, with all the permanent waterholes in the desert. The colours at sunset—’ He shook his head. ‘Cameras and phones can’t capture it. You have to be there.’

Amelia tried to imagine it all—this vast country with so many different landscapes, so many hidden corners. England suddenly felt very small and very tame.

‘What about the Kimberley?’ Sophie asked. ‘Everyone keeps telling us we have to see the Kimberley. We have to make a list of the best.’

‘Ah, the East Kimberley,’ Alex said, his face lighting up. ‘Lake Argyle, the Bungle Bungles, El Questro. Spectacular country. Rough as guts in some parts, but worth every bumpy kilometre. The gorges up there—you haven’t lived until you’ve swum in Zebedee Springs or walked through Cathedral Gorge.’ He paused, took a sip from his mug of tea. ‘But you want to know the truth? My favourite is right here. The Queensland outback. Channel Country, the Diamantina, places like this.’ He gestured around them at the darkness, the old pub, the endless space. ‘There’s something about it. The history, the resilience of the people, the way the land teaches you things if you’re willing to listen.’

‘What kind of things?’ Amelia asked.

Alex was quiet for a moment, watching the flames. ‘Patience. Humility. That you’re passing through, same as everyone else, and the land will still be here long after you’re gone. Makes you think about what matters, you know? All the stuff we worry about in the cities—it falls away out here. I’ve spent a lot of time out here since my wife passed away.’

They sat in silence for a while, the fire warming their faces while the cold pressed against their backs. An owl called somewhere in the darkness, a low haunting sound.

‘So how was your first day of work?’ Jill asked Sophie. ‘We didn’t even get to debrief properly.’

Sophie grinned. ‘Honestly? It was brilliant. Sassy—everyone calls her Sassy, she said I should too—she’s absolutely lovely. Spent the whole day showing me how she likes things done, where everything is, and how the till works. Very patient, considering I rocked up out of nowhere.’

‘Sassy?’ Amelia asked.

‘Nickname from when she was little, apparently. Her dad used to call her his “sassy girl”, and it stuck,’ Sophie explained. ‘She’s in her fifties, I’d say. Runs the place by herself mostly, which is mad. It’s not huge, but it’s constant—locals coming in for this and that, travellers stocking up, deliveries to unpack. I don’t know how she manages alone. She never stops.’

‘Is that why she hired you on the spot?’ Amelia asked.

‘Yeah, she was pretty desperate,’ Sophie said. ‘Her regular girl quit yesterday—husband got a FIFO job, and they don’t need the money anymore. And apparently they used to get heaps of backpackers through before COVID, young people looking for farm work or passing through who’d stay for a few weeks, pick up shifts. But since the pandemic, the numbers dropped right off.’

‘Makes sense,’ Alex said. ‘Lot of towns out here struggled when the backpackers stopped coming. They did the jobs the local businesses can’t always fill.’

Sophie nodded. ‘Sassy said something like that. She was talking about how some backpackers have a better work ethic than some—’ She grimaced. ‘Then she got all flustered and apologised, said she could see I was a good worker and she didn’t mean me. I think she forgot I was a backpacker for a second.’

Jill snorted with laughter. ‘That’s hilarious.’

‘I didn’t take offence,’ Sophie said. ‘I know what she meant. Small towns can be tricky—everyone knows everyone, there’s history and politics and family dramas all tangled up. Sometimes it’s easier to hire someone from outside. Speaking of which,’ Sophie continued, leaning forward, ‘Sassy mentioned that the hardware store and the café are both looking for staff too. She said I should tell you two in case you wanted to stick around for a bit. I know we were planning to push on to Winton, but...’ She trailed off, looking between them.

Amelia and Jill exchanged glances.

‘I wouldn’t mind staying for a week or two, or more,’ Amelia said slowly. ‘If we could all work and save up some money, we could actually go further. Maybe even make it up to the Kimberley that Alex was talking about.’

‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Jill admitted. ‘Plus, it might be nice to stop moving for a bit, you know? We’ve been on the road for a month straight.’

‘And this place does have a certain charm,’ Amelia added, looking up at the old pub silhouetted against the stars.

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Jill said softly. ‘There’s something about it. I can’t quite put my finger on it.’

Alex smiled into the fire. ‘Some places get under your skin. You’ll know when it’s time to move on.’

They talked for another hour until the fire burned down to coals and the cold became too much, even with their jackets and boots. Alex headed to his caravan, and the three girls climbed into the back of the van, giggling as they tried to arrange themselves on the narrow mattresses without elbowing each other.

‘Tomorrow we’re job hunting,’ Amelia whispered in the darkness.

‘Tomorrow, you’re job hunting,’ Sophie corrected. ‘I’ll be scanning groceries and trying to remember where Sassy keeps the pricing gun.’

Amelia lay awake for a while after the others’ breathing had evened out into sleep. Through the small window at the back of the van, she could see the old pub, a dark shape against the stars. Something about being here felt right in a way she couldn’t explain. Like she was supposed to be here, in this moment, in this place.