Take writing, for example. Oh, sure, it had seemed hard. Especially at the beginning, when he’d first started dreaming about being an author. His eyes might have been on the sheep or cattle he’d been mustering, but his head had been filled with crime ideas that had distilled, over time, into a career. It had happened. He’d got it done. But when had love happened?
TYSON: Shoot me now. Is this some sort of sad sack, woe-is-me backstory montage? Come on, Huxtable. Pull yourself together.
Yeah, okay, he was wallowing.
He’d let Maggie’s words seep into his head. He’d realised he was hung up on Jo. He wanted her to be hung up on him. He wanted her to want to put him first.
But she hadn’t.
The angle grinder stopped spraying sparks above him and he pulled it to the side. The pipe was cut, hallelujah. Now for the other end.
He was just setting the blade against the next section of pipe when he heard a voice shrieking from his front yard. One of the Numbers. Number Three, by the pitch.
Groaning, he dropped the angle grinder and started the long shimmy out from under the house.
Sal had one sleeping kid over a dressing gown–clad shoulder and Harry clinging to her hand.
‘Hux! I’ve been calling and calling!’
‘Ugh,’ he said, wiping cobwebs off his face. ‘What is it?’
‘Charlie’s gone to work. Like … in a helicopter. He’s going out of town.’
‘What? When?’
‘He left home about ten minutes before I did, but he just grabbed his keys and cleared off, whereas I had to drag this pair out of bed. Someone from a property called with an animal emergency. A horse kicked a bull in the head and they needed a vet urgently, so Charlie took off to fly to Longreach, collect the vet and head out.’
Bloody hell. ‘Is he okay? Why didn’t he call me?’
‘Hello, are you even listening? We did. Me and him.’
‘He could have come and found me like you have. Pub—donger—house. There’s only three places to look.’
‘Yes. That’s what I told him to come do, but he said he wasn’t having a dead bull on his conscience as well as everything else and then he took off.’
Sal lowered herself to the grass beside him, making him wonder how on earth she’d get back up, then started crying into his shoulder. ‘What if he has a panic attack up in the air? He’ll crash and die.’
‘No way is that going to happen,’ Hux said. Where were his car keys? Where was his phone? If Charlie was only a few minutes ahead of him he was probably still at the airstrip.
‘Is Daddy going to crash and die, Mummy?’
Sal didn’t seem capable of answering, so Hux answered for her. ‘No, Harry. Your mum didn’t mean that.’
‘Then why is Mum crying?’
‘Well, it’s a shock, isn’t it, getting an early morning phone call about an injured bull. She’ll stop crying soon. Also, your mum’s got a baby in her tummy, and that makes mums cry, like, all the time. Don’t ask me why; that’s just one of the things us blokes need to be aware of. Now, who can find my phone?’ he said. Sal was sniffling all over him, he was being suffocated by her fluffy pink thing, and he still didn’t know where his keys and phone were. In the ute, perhaps.
‘Right. Okay, let’s just think for a minute. Sal? You’re going to have to stop crying while we get our shit together, okay? Especially in front of you know who,’ he added, raising his eyebrows and nodding at the rug rats.
‘You said shit,’ said Harry.
Hux stuck his tongue out at the kid until he giggled. ‘Harry, do me a favour and give Possum a belly rub, will you? He likes to start his day with some love and attention.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘Excellent. I’ll head to the strip now and if Charlie’s still there, I’ll see what he wants to do. Maybe I could go with him. But if he’s headed up, Sal, then that’s great. Nothing for you to be crying about.’
‘I’m just worried, Gavin. You don’t know what he’s been like at home.’