Susan and Annabelle loaded the gear into Susan’s Pajero the night before and left Townsville in the dawnlight the next morning, heading south along the Bruce Highway, Susan keeping her foot down hard and swearing at the trucks and caravans that were slowing them. She held the trembling steering wheel with one hand, her back pressed hard against the seat, leaning her free elbow out the sidewindow, counting roadkilled wallabies along the verge. She shouted above the roadnoise, ‘You never see a dead crow. They feed out there near the wheels and never get hit. I’ve been looking out for one ever since I came up here.’ She was a big energetic woman, dressed in faded khaki overalls and walking boots. An old brown trilby hat, sweat stained and misshapen, set back on her cropped grey hair. ‘Crows!’ she yelled admiringly. ‘See them birds step aside!’ They had sat up until the early hours at Susan’s flat, drinking red wine and talking about Steven Küen and the evil ways of men, going over old memories of their time together in Melbourne and lamenting the deteriorated culture of universities and the decline of civilised standards in general.
What do You think about Journey To The Stone Country?
