Page 93 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
You’re reading it here first, folks … the Hanrahan Pub is having its dust sheets ripped off, its garden beds replanted and its fridges restocked. A van belonging to handyman team Sharon and Darryl Rodgers has been spotted outside every day for two weeks, so this is not rumour. This is fact! I have seen it with my own eyes!
It’s wonderful what a little community pressure can do: The Chatter asked why the heir to the Krauss family was spending all his time sitting on his arse drinking coffee when he could be helping this town out and whackadoo! Not only is the Ironbark Campdraft back on, but the pub with no beer looks like it’s on track to be open again before the big event.
Roger Kettering from the Snowy Monaro Campdraft Association tells The Chatter that the prizes on offer at Ironbark include not only service fees and horse feed, but the real drawcard will be the legend himself, Bruno Krauss, judging the Open 1 and Open 2 rounds, for which he has donated his campdraft championship belt buckles, to be awarded to the winners.
Hanrahan and the surrounding region has plenty of talent in campdrafting: Fraser Oxley and Dana Baxter are regulars on the circuit, as is Coralie Moon. We expect Hanrahan local and newbie campdrafter, Hannah Cody, will be competing and maybe the heir of Ironbark Station himself might throw his leg over a saddle and see if he’s inherited any of his father’s legendary skills.
Huh. As though she’d be competing now. As though she’d go within ten kilometres of Ironbark Station now.
‘Is it true, Hannah? Have you been doing campdrafting?’ Her mother’s eyes were shining like Hannah had just solved the world’s methane problem.
She shrugged. ‘I’ve done one competition down in Dalgety. There was another one I was booked in for, but it was cancelled due to rain. Skippy’s a natural, and he loves the training. It’s … something to do.’
Her dad was looking ridiculously pleased, too. ‘It’s great, Hannah. Just great.’
‘Dad, it’s just a hobby. Nothing to get emotional about.’
‘We can come back for Ironbark’s campdraft and see you in action.’
‘What a great idea,’ said her mother. ‘I could get team t-shirts made!’
This had to be nipped in the bud. Hannah was just about to let them know she had no intention of riding in the campdraft when her mother plucked a tissue out of her purse and started dabbing at her eyeliner.
‘Mum. Don’t get like this.’
‘I’m sorry, darling. Don’t worry, these are happy tears. We just love to see you involved, and getting out and about, and—’
‘Don’t read too much into it, Mum, please. It’s a hobby. I’m not that serious about it.’
‘But, darling, you’re mentioned in the paper and everything—’
Her dad must have nudged her mother’s foot under the table, because she broke off and frowned at him.
‘We’re happy if you’re happy,’ her dad said firmly. ‘Isn’t that right, Amy?’
Her mother gave her eyes a last dab and pushed the crumpled tissue up the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘Yes, dear. Why don’t you text that son of yours and his lovely wife and see if they’re ready for some lunch.’
‘Good idea,’ said Hannah. She’d had just about enough of the lunchtime conversation being about her. ‘I’m going to the bathroom.’
She was in the stall, regretting the amount of chiffony fabric she was having to deal with, when she realised that she wasn’t quite done with having to listen to conversations about her.
‘Is it true?’ said a voice.
Kylie! Oh, goody, hopefully she could join them for lunch. Her parents were as fond of Kylie as Hannah was. She was about to call out when she heard another voice.
‘I’m not sure, but we might not be able to count on Tom helping us with our Hannah intervention any longer.’
Oh, right. She’d forgotten the only reason Tom had asked her to get involved with the campdraft was because the Hanrahan locals had asked him to. Maybe that’s why he’d said yes when she invited him to the races.
Maybe that’s all she’d been to him: a duty. A favour to others.
And who was that out there with Kylie anyway? Marigold?
She had to decide whether to piddle quietly and eavesdrop or slam out the door noisily and confront them. She opted for the slam.
Two pairs of eyes looked at her like wallabies frozen by headlights.
‘Little Hannah,’ said Marigold, recovering first.
