Page 26 of Outback Hearts

‘It’s going to get busier,’ Alex said. ‘We’ve got specialist contractors coming through for electrical and plumbing. Might need your rooms.’

‘I’ve got four rooms free,’ Brian said. ‘They’re basic, but they’re clean. And I do a decent breakfast. You send people my way, I’ll look after them. I like what you lot are doing here.’

‘Appreciate it,’ Alex said.

Brian lingered, watching the activity—people setting up camps, talking, laughing. ‘You know what this reminds me of? The old days, when the Royal was still operating. Friday nights, Saturday afternoons—there’d be twenty, thirty people around. Station workers, travellers, locals. Everyone together. It was good, you know? Community.’

‘That’s what we’re hoping to bring back,’ Alex said.

‘Then I’m behind you,’ Brian said firmly. ‘Whatever you need from the Creek Hotel—rooms, meals, venue for meetings—you just ask. Margaret might oppose this, but the rest of us know what this town needs.’

After he left, Sophie turned to Alex. ‘Everyone keeps mentioning how people used to gather at the Royal. What was it like? When it was open?’

Alex smiled, remembering. ‘It was the heart of everything. Every Friday night, there’d be sixty people minimum. More on special occasions. They had a piano, someone always played. Dancing, singing, carrying on. The publican—old Bill Harris—he ran it like a community centre as much as a business. If you needed help, you came to the Royal. If you had news to share, you shared it at the Royal. Weddings were celebrated there, wakes were held there. It was where life happened. Molly and I celebrated our wedding anniversaries there most years.’

‘And when it closed?’ Amelia asked.

‘The town lost its centre,’ Alex said simply. ‘People still had the Creek Hotel, but it wasn’t the same. The Royal was special. Losing it felt like losing our heart. That’s why this matters so much. We’re not just restoring a building. We’re restoring that sense of community.’

Monday morning dawned clear and hot. By six a.m. the entire crew was assembled in the cleared area behind the pub. Jake stood before them, looking professional despite the heat.

‘Welcome to day one,’ he said. ‘Before we touch any tools, we’re doing safety training. This isn’t optional. This isn’t negotiable. Construction work is dangerous. People die on building sites every year. We’re not going to be a statistic. Understood?’

‘Understood,’ the crew chorused.

Jake spent the morning drilling them on safety—proper use of hard hats, safety glasses, and work boots. How to handle power tools safely. How to work at heights. What to do in an emergency. How to spot hazards. When to ask for help.

‘I don’t care how experienced you think you are,’ Jake said, his tone making it clear this wasn’t negotiable. ‘On my sites, we follow protocols. Every time. No exceptions. One mistake can kill someone. So we don’t make mistakes. Questions?’

Davo raised his hand. ‘What’s the most dangerous thing we’ll be doing?’

‘Working at height,’ Jake said immediately. ‘Roof work, scaffolding, anything above six feet. That’s where most serious accidents happen. Which is why we’re going to practise scaffolding safety extensively before anyone goes up.’

By lunchtime, everyone could assemble and safely climb scaffolding. By mid-afternoon, they could identify hazards and knew emergency protocols.

‘Tomorrow we start actual work,’ Jake announced at day’s end. ‘Roof assessment and preparation. Be here at six, ready to work. It’ll be hot, it’ll be hard, but we’ll get through it together. Good first day, everyone.’

As the crew dispersed, Amelia found herself walking beside Jake towards the site office.

‘That was a big day, ’ she said.

‘Safety’s not negotiable,’ Jake replied. ‘But you all did well. Tomorrow will be harder—actual physical labour, heat, repetition. Not everyone will last.’

‘I’ll last,’ Amelia said firmly.

Jake stopped, looked at her seriously. ‘You’ve got something—determination, maybe. I saw it when we were inside the building that first day. You’re not afraid to try hard things.’

‘Is that a compliment?’ Amelia asked, trying to keep her tone light.

‘It’s an observation,’ Jake said. ‘But yeah, it’s a compliment too.’

He walked away before Amelia could respond, leaving her standing in the golden afternoon light, heart racing.

This was going to be an interesting six months.

***

That night, the crew gathered around a communal campfire—the backpackers, the station workers, the fossickers, Tom, and a few locals who’d stopped by.