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“I can take—”
“I’ll do it. Give you a lift,” Pete offered. “Better than walking there.”
Both Ainslee and I stared at Pete. He raised an eyebrow pointedly at me.Better than you driving Angry Ainslee.
“I don’t mind,” he added.
“At least someone’s a gentleman.” Ainslee rolled her suitcase over my toes, of which I felt nothing as I was still in my boots.
“I can drive you, Ainslee. Please, I was going—”
“Peter, I accept.” She tossed her hair and lumbered down the stairs with her pink cabin bag and waited for Pete near our driveway.
“You told her,” Pete said plainly.
“I had to.”
“Went well, I see.”
“It was bloody awful.” I sighed. “But it had to be done. I couldn’t let things drag on. It wasn’t fair on her, or me, or anyone.”
“You owe me big time for this. Might be your best friend but escorting your ex-friend-with-bennies off your property demands a big favour in return.”
“I can drive her.”
Pete and I glanced at Ainslee, who stamped her baby-pink boot impatiently.
“If you want to keep your balls intact,” Pete said slowly, “I suggest you stay put.”
“For doing this, you name it, it’s yours.”
“Noted. See ya, mate.” Pete took a few steps towards Ainslee. “Let’s go.”
She strode off, leaving Pete to collect her bag. I groaned, knowing Pete would demand a very big favour after being treated as a butler.
I let my head thud against the doorframe and then did it again for good measure.
There was a snuffling noise, and my wombat-in-residence, Son of Hades, waddled out of his burrow, looked me in the eye for a long moment, kicked up some gravel and then disappeared back into the burrow. And even in this dim light, I could see it: a freshly dumped pile of cube-shaped poo.
No better metaphor for the state of my life right now.
8
TOM
Ballydoon Community Group:
Tom posted 8.23 a.m.:
Looking for locals to muster sheep in the high country. Prefer candidates to have experience riding stock horses in rough country. Paying cash. Up to three days’ work.
The new kelpie pup was living up to every claim Chooky Anderson had made about her.
Ruby Red Legs responded to every whistle and call from Chooky with enthusiasm. Her ears stood up, listening, and then she followed Rusty and the other dogs around the paddock, crouching and darting forward and back, pushing the small flock of sheep through the gate.
“She’s good, wouldn’t you say?” Chooky asked with a wry grin.
He knew exactly how good Ruby was. She showed exemplary talent to be a great muster dog. Grandad Cec also nodded with a smile.
