Page 191 of The Storm Boys Series Collection

JEREMIAH

Gettingthe bureau’s office set up had been an ongoing nightmare. From supply issues to actually getting the gear delivered to Darwin had been delay after delay.

And don’t even get me started on the actual install.

I understood all technicians, builders, and electricians were busy. Darwin needed a lot of repairs and rebuilds, and there had even been planeloads of qualified tradies coming in from various parts of Australia to help.

The response had been amazing.

But it was still frustrating.

One month later and I still had no working office.

I had spent one week at the Darwin airport, helping their control crew re-establish their weather station. It had been important work, fun and rewarding. Being productive and helping in desperate times—ensuring the city’s only airport was functioning and safe—did more for my mental health in one week than all the years I’d worked in Melbourne had.

Helping the community, even in the small and non-concerting way I could, made me feel good.

It made the guilt a little easier to bear.

Guilt that wasn’t rational, but guilt all the same.

But my god, I needed to work. I needed my office back. I needed to be doing something.

I’d cleaned out most of the old gear that was now in boxes. This whole office was going to be ripped apart, so anything that was worth keeping now sat in Tully’s garage.

Admittedly, it wasn’t much.

He kept the helmet with the light on it. For what purpose was anyone’s guess. It was old and didn’t work, but it made him happy, so...

A knock at the door startled me, and I looked up at the security screen—the only screen that still worked—and saw who it was. “Jememiah,” a little voice said.

A little voice that made me smile.

I opened the door for Presley and Casey, the two little girls from down the road. The little girls I’d collected in a tackle-run to save from a lightning strike.

Presley, the younger of the two, called me Jememiah, and it was cute.

“Hello,” I said. “Are you allowed to be up here?”

“Yes,” Casey said. “Daddy’s here with the roof man.”

“Ah, good.” I walked down the steps into the yard and, sure enough, saw Jeff talking with a few men who had a trailer of roofing iron. I gave him a wave, and the girls decided climbing into the Jeep was fun, and I didn’t even mind.

That vehicle was indestructible, and if the wild pig tracks and potholes at the bunker or, indeed, a whole cyclone didn’t break the car, two small girls wouldn’t either.

It wasn’t as if I had any work to do.

Then Arty from across the road came out with a plate of biscuits, the coloured wafer kind, and offered them to the girls and I. I asked him about his house and his cat, and we chatted a while. Jean and Michael were also doing well, and the couple across from Jeff were too.

And that was the thing about Darwin—the people who called it home.

Tough didn’t begin to describe them.

Resilient and resourceful came to mind. Choosing to live in a city thousands of kilometres from any other city, plagued by insufferable heat and monsoons... it took a special breed of person to live here.

Like Tully and his family.

They took everything in stride. No problem was too big or too small. They supported each other and they worked hard. They supported their employees—some had lost their homes or cars—and the Larsons did everything they could to help them.

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