Chapter Fifteen
It was early but already warm out on the road as the tradesmen approached the workshop. Joe was hung-over and just didn’t want to go in. He stepped through the wide hanger door, head down and deep in thought. The lights were off and he listened to the many rubber-soled boots loud in the dark. He looked up at his locomotive and saw the banks of mercury vapour lamps come on and the shop go bright. Across the floor, dozens of men began banging up the gantries and he headed up towards his station, watching the back of the man in front, hearing the first, high-pitched crash of a dropped toolbox. The shop was already growing noisy and the idea of shouting all day depressed him. It reminded him of the noise and confusion at the show-ground then he remembered waking up in the mud.
He could hear Henry, a heavy smoker, coughing in the cabin ahead and walked in. He saw him standing behind the driver’s seat, staring lifelessly through the windscreen.
‘Hey, Henry,’ he said quietly.
The fifty-year-old fitter scratched his unshaven neck.
Mick appeared at the door with a chocolate bar in his hand, wheeling an oxyacetylene set behind him. ‘G’day, lads,’ he said. He leaned against the doorframe and seemed in a good mood. He began chewing his chocolate bar with an open mouth. ‘Are you going to ask me how my weekend was?’ he said.
Joe lifted his toolbox up to the driver’s seat.
‘It was good, actually,’ Mick said.
Joe glanced at Henry and saw his bloodshot eyes from a weekend of heavy drinking. ‘Good weekend, Henry?’ he asked.
Henry removed his earmuffs from his toolbox. ‘Go open up the compound, Judd,’ he said, ‘and let’s get on with it.’
Mick began unravelling the hose from his oxyacetylene. ‘Happy bunch of c—ts, aren’t ya,’ he mumbled.
Joe yawned and walked out the cabin. He headed down the gantry and across the aisle towards the wire-grilled gate to check the air ratchets, wrenches and drills. Suddenly, in the distance, there was a rich peal of female laughter.
‘Who in Chr—t is that?’ he thought.
It had the effect of a woman’s scream and the workshop went quiet.
Mick came out of the cabin and leaned over the railing. ‘A note of optimism in the shop?’ he said.
Joe stepped into the aisle and peered, almost irritably, at the door. They appeared from the daylight, brightly backlit. The general manager and a well-dressed woman strolled into the shop, deep in conversation. She was unfamiliar to him, attractive, and in her early thirties. She looked good – her black hair had the high sheen of a crow’s feather and her hoop earrings glimmered momentarily in the light. The executives passed by, Crow Hair doing all the talking. She looked sweet all right and was speaking with a foreign accent. Suddenly, her head fell back and she emitted a powerful heartfelt laugh, filling the hanger right up to the rafters. Joe glanced back and saw his men lined up on the gantry. He shrugged and began walking towards them. He glanced back and glimpsed her scaling the steps towards the offices overlooking the shop.
He walked into the cab and suddenly felt, for some reason, pretty good. The light, beaming in through the windscreen, warmed his face and the spanners in his toolbox were shimmering like silver bars. He began unrolling the circuit diagram to where he had left off Friday. Henry had started under the dash and Mick was talking to himself on the gantry. Behind the wall, Ken the coppersmith had started banging things about. Joe slipped on his earmuffs and his world went quiet. He reached in under the false floor, gripped the wiring loom for the control gear, and fingered through the spade connectors. Within a minute had lapsed into a subconscious state of workshop numbness.
Someone shouted and Joe flicked off his earmuffs. He looked around – it was like waking from a dream – and saw everyone was working. It was nothing, but he welcomed the distraction and waited, staring into space. He looked down at his watch and saw it was an hour before lunch.
Just then, he heard footsteps out on the gantry. They were not boots but something like tap shoes. He stared curiously at the door and, to his surprise, Crow Hair stepped into view. He blinked. She stopped in the doorway with her back turned and looked out at the shop. She was wearing a business skirt and suit and seemed to be familiarising herself with her surroundings, using the height of the gantry, carrying a folder as if ready to take notes. She showed a little profile and he saw she had a slightly upturned nose and cute little ears, which made her loop earrings seem a little too big. The earmuffs around her neck were standard for the shop, but seemed an affectation on such a finely dressed woman. She turned completely and their eyes locked. She smiled brightly and – wow – it really radiated the room. There was nothing to do so, once again, he simply blinked. Crow Hair looked down and slowly stepped into his cab. She was only two metres away now and began checking something on her chart. Henry stopped working and looked up, holding a copper pipe. She knelt in the middle of the room and glanced under the false floor. She had thin thighs and Joe was hit by a wave of her perfume.
Suddenly, she looked up. ‘Hey,’ she said kindly.
‘Hi,’ he said, wire strippers in hand. She exhibited a glowing smile and blinked her rich brown eyes. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he said.
‘Oh, I’m sorry…’ she said. She reached out. ‘I’m Lola. Lola Bonita.’ They shook hands and he replayed her weird yet interesting sing-song accent. ‘It’s my first day,’ she said.
Her fingers were lean and strong when he shook them. ‘You’re an electrician,’ he said.
She glanced down at her chart and smiled. ‘I was.’
Hell, he thought, she’s nuts with this smiling business.
He looked down and cut the insulation off the wire in his hand, exposing the copper tip. ‘So, where are you from?’ he said, expecting a rudimentary answer.
‘I was born in Spain,’ she said. ‘But I lived in London many years.’
‘Is that right?’ he said. He twisted the copper end, glanced up and saw she was smiling again. She had perfectly straight teeth, which reminded him of a dentist surgery poster.
‘Come on, slow coach,’ she said, gesturing at the cable in his hand. ‘Squeeze the lug.’ He hesitated then slipped the lug over the exposed copper and slowly squeezed it with the crimper.
Heavy steps came up the walkway and the pair looked up. The general manager’s heavy-frame suddenly filled the door. Joe had seen Peterson perhaps a dozen times in a decade. It was common for an apprentice never to have seen him. He had an assembly drawing rolled up under his arm and seemed a little anxious.
‘Lola,’ he said. ‘Can we meet in my office in fifteen minutes? Is that OK?’ He spoke with significant reverence.
‘Sure, Mr. Peterson,’ she said.
Peterson turned and walked away.
‘OK, my friend,’ she said, slapping Joe firmly on the back. ‘I’ve got to go.’ Lola picked up her folder, straightened and headed for the door. She stopped on the gantry, looked back and caught him staring. Her fingers goodbye and she began walking – her heals knocking away along the metal floor sheeting.
Seconds later, Joe heard the pair talking below. Then, Lola laughed and it echoed right through the workshop.
Then Mick walked in. ‘Who the f—k was that?’ he said, lifting his goggles.
‘That’s the new project manager,’ Henry said.
‘Really?’ Joe said. ‘How about that.’
‘F—k!’ shouted Ken, behind the wall, ‘Why do we need a project manager? The contract’s on schedule.’
‘I don’t know,’ Joe said. ‘I just work here.’
Mick wandered out of the room, mumbling to himself. Joe pouted and knelt to the floor, thinking about lunch, and returned to the control gear’s wiring loom.
The lunchtime siren purred deeply then wailed a high pitch for several seconds. Joe awoke from his subconscious wanderings, with his hands on the leads for the power controller. He listened to the men talking outside, stood, slowly stretched, and wandered out of the cabin.
Joe squint
ed in the daylight; it was good to be out. Those with lunchboxes were retiring to the benches and a passenger carriage from the railcar shop was parked out on the road. Joe sat in the shade of the building and opened his lunchbox between his boots. He unfastened his thermos container and slowly poured a cup of coffee. His elbows came to his knees and he began to unwind and looked around, thinking about the week ahead. A few stragglers were still appearing from the main door. Old Jim, the sixty-year-old dogman, headed for his usual bench seat near the foundry wall.
Suddenly, Lola Bonita strolled out into the sun, carrying a brown paper bag. She stopped on the drive and looked around. Joe glanced at the foreman sitting at the next bench.
‘Hey, Johnno, why’s the new girl out here?’
John removed the pizza triangle from his mouth and glanced at her. ‘Dunno,’ he said and shrugged. ‘But be careful if you chat to her – the word is she’s a first-class engineer and a smart cookie. Worked on the Channel Tunnel, you know.’ John bit into his pizza.
Joe looked up and, surprisingly, locked eyes with Lola. Her face lit up and she started to approach. Her shoes tapped across the drive then went quiet on the grass and Joe looked away.
‘Mind if I sit?’ she asked.
Joe looked up. She was wearing weird, wide-lens sunglasses. ‘Urrr… sure,’ he said, gesturing glibly at the seat. ‘Knock yourself out.’
She giggled, probably at his vernacular, and sat down beside him. She placed her bag on the bench and reached inside; Joe listened to the rustle of the paper.
‘I don’t know anyone here,’ she said quietly, as if a new kid at school. She placed a wrapped sandwich on her lap. Once again, he smelt her exotic perfume.
‘Thought you’d be upstairs having lunch in your office,’ he said.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely day.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘I like Queensland – the sun reminds me of southern Spain. Look,’ she said. Joe looked up. ‘Today, the clouds are really thin like painted with an airbrush.’ It was a weird thing to say but he could see what she meant. He turned and watched her as she began unwrapping her sandwich. She took a gentle bite and he looked down at his boots. ‘You Australians are funny,’ she said. Her mouth was full.
‘Is that right?’ he said.
She reached under her seat and, after some trouble, snapped off a grass stalk. ‘Last weekend I met a farmer,’ she said, ‘and he looked like this.’ She put the stalk between her lips and spoke from the corner of her mouth, ‘He ’ore a hat, mate,’ she said, ‘with ween corks dangling from strings.’
‘He did not…’
‘He did,’ she said, and began laughing. ‘And he had an old utility with a sheepdog in the back.’
‘Nonsense.’
A smile began to light up her face then she erupted into a beautiful laugh. Her long slender hand slapped the bench and she seemed very happy with herself. He glanced at the other benches and saw his workmates gazing. Lola glanced up and also saw them.
‘Ooo, I better quieten down,’ she whispered, like caught making noise in a library.
J—s, he thought. What juice is she on?
He reached down and scratched his knee. This girl was so chirpy she made you feel like you were missing out on something.
‘These sandwiches are yummy,’ she said, taking another bite. He could see her eyelashes blinking behind her lenses. Her eyes were wide and alert. ‘Brown bread,’ she said, with her mouth full, ‘but… I asked for no butter… and it has butter.’ She swallowed and began to giggle. He looked away and scratched his face. Lola glanced up, once again, at the sky. ‘My dog loves it here,’ she said.
Joe watched her bite into her sandwich. ‘You brought a dog from England with you?’
She waved, no, with her index finger. ‘Not brought, bought…’ She swallowed. ‘I bought him here.’
‘What breed?’
‘A boxer. But I really wanted a Blue Heeler, something very Austraalian.’
‘You’re making fun of us.’
‘It’s not hard.’
‘I’ll make fun of Spain.’
‘Go on.’
But the conversation fell dead. She had won and leaned in towards him, smiling. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, prodding him. Joe capitulated and chuckled. ‘Ha!’ she said. ‘See, I made you laugh.’
He looked up at the tradesmen. A large group had gathering at an opposing bench. One man elbowed a workmate, chuckling like an idiot. Joe reached into his lunchbox and removed his sandwich. He bit into it and began to chew.
‘Your buddies seem very interested in us,’ she said.
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘How silly. Silly little men.’
There was a pause. ‘I guess,’ he said.
‘Do you have a pet?’
He shrugged. ‘Um, no.’
‘My dog’s just a pup,’ she said, adjusting her sunglasses. ‘He’s eight months old but a loyal friend. He likes to chase waves along the beach.’
Joe looked down at his boots. She was talking a lot but was no fool, he was sure. He felt as if she was sounding him out. She was confident and completely owned herself. He listened to the breeze as he ate. He knew he kind of liked her and it had made him go a little quiet. It remained silent between them until the end of the break.
The siren wailed and he slowly closed his lunchbox. He looked up at the workshop and saw Peterson appear from the main door. He shielded his eyes from the sun and placed a hand on his hip.
‘Is that what we pay ya for?’ he shouted at everyone. ‘Ta sit around?’ He clapped his hands like summoning servants. ‘Come on, we’ve got a contract to meet. Let’s go.’
Lola leaned towards Joe and took, what he thought was a bit of a chance.
‘You should have seen him in the meeting,’ she said. ‘He’s a real Captain Ahab.’
Joe waited then glanced at her.
‘He barks orders like a crazy man. Instead of a wooden leg under those trousers, I reckon he’s got a leg of bogie steel.’ It wasn’t funny but Lola liked her own joke. She began to chuckle then suddenly let out an almighty laugh. Every tradesman, heading for the shed, looked back. He glanced down at the grass and knew his curiosity had been sparked. Already, she was the most intimidating, independent woman he believed he had ever met.
He cleared his throat and picked up his lunchbox. ‘Well, back to work, I guess,’ he said.
Lola reached down and brushed some workshop dust from her skirt, with little feminine flicks. ‘OK, pumpkin,’ she said. ‘Time to go.’
Yes, he liked her.
The two stood, slowly headed back towards the door, and walked into the shade of the shop. She headed for her office and he stopped at the foot of his gantry, watching her for a long time approaching the stairs. Suddenly, she looked back – like she had guessed he was watching. Quite honestly, he was hoping she would. She saw him and wriggled her fingers goodbye.
He smiled and slowly moved away. Just then, as he scaled the gantry, he felt something shift inside him and suddenly stopped. It was literally like someone had just elbowed him in the sternum and he reached up, feeling it.
‘Ooops…’ he said to himself. ‘What was that?’ It was an emotional thump and for a moment he did not move. He was struck with a thought. Yes, over the years he had been floundering, until his heart barely registered a pulse, but now a person had appeared out of nowhere and he suddenly felt very good. Frankly, her appearance in his slumber was an immense shock.
Ch—t, he thought, suddenly everything just looks different.
He glanced down and looked at his boots. It was like getting woken up by a punch in the face.