Purple Roads Read online

  ‘You’re being bloody stupid,’ he told himself. ‘Why would anyone pull you over? You’ve got every right to be on the road.’

  Glancing at his watch he saw it was it 2.39 am. At this stage the adrenalin racing through his veins was keeping him alert. He knew the hardest time would be just before and just after dawn. And he’d be driving into the sun, which would make it more difficult. Often the warmth on the windscreen would make him sleepy.

  The CB crackled to life with his call sign.

  ‘Nine Papa Zulu, mobile three to mobile nine, got a copy?’

  He reached for the receiver.

  ‘Got a copy, mobile three,’ he answered.

  ‘Got the goods?’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Roger that. See you in five hours at the designated area.’

  ‘Roger. Over and out.’

  The man clicked the handpiece back into its holder. Anyone who was listening could have thought the exchange odd, but there wouldn’t be too many people listening to the CB this time of night. After many years in the truck industry, he knew most of the blokes on the road would be listening to late-night radio or audio books. If anyone had heard their conversation, the call signs wouldn’t be recognised. They were only ever used on jobs like this.

  The white lines disappeared under his rig, like they were being gobbled by a huge mouth, and he held the truck steady. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure the other truck was still with him. He could see the lights.

  He imagined what they looked like from the air. Two trucks hauling grain bins with a load of stolen fertiliser on board. Their lights stretched out in front of the truck, picking up the road, many metres ahead. Two men in different trucks, alone with their own thoughts. Each with their reasons for doing this. Driving, steadily eating up the kilometres across the country.

  He thought of their destination. A Bachelors and Spinsters Ball seemed a strange place to be arriving with two trucks, but he was sure his boss had everything in hand.

  As a set of lights appeared in the distance and slowly grew closer, he sighed, trying not to consider what would happen if they were caught. If he weren’t in need of the extra money, there was no way he would be involved in something like this.

  As the car whizzed past on its way to an unknown destination, he decided there was no point in even thinking along those lines. He wasn’t going to get caught. Ever.

  He emptied his mind, focused on the road and kept on driving.

  Five hours later, the two trucks pulled over in a parking bay just inside the borderline. Both men got out and stretched but hardly acknowledged each other. Minutes later, a black sports car pulled up and a thin, lanky man with sharp eyes jumped out.

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing them each a hot paper cup filled with coffee and a packaged egg and bacon sandwich.

  The first man didn’t answer; he just unwrapped his sandwich and took a huge bite before slugging a mouthful of coffee. He didn’t want to chat; he wanted to get the truck unloaded. His mate took his food back to the cab of the truck, leaving him to find out the details.

  ‘Change of plans. The B&S ball is too risky. Plus the boss has found another buyer. You’ve got about another hour’s drive,’ the man with the sharp eyes said. He held out a map. ‘Follow this and you won’t have any problems. As you go in, there is a fertiliser shed on your left, near the shearing shed. No one will be home. Got it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Don’t stuff it up.’

  ‘Have I ever?’ Glaring at the lanky man, the truck driver snatched the map and headed back to his rig. He disliked it when the boss sent his gopher. He didn’t like him one bit.

  ‘I haven’t finished giving you your instructions yet.’

  He stopped and turned. ‘Well get on with it. We haven’t got time for games.’

  ‘When you’ve finished here, go on to Sydney and pick up a load from the depot there. This is a legit load that needs to be brought back to the depot in Adelaide.’

  ‘Right.’ By the time he had climbed into his truck the sports car had quietly disappeared down the road.

  He finished off the sandwich and licked his fingers, then turned the key.

  Grabbing the CB mike, he pressed the button. ‘Let’s move out,’ he said and the radio was silent again.

  One hour later, he flicked on his blinker and turned into a driveway. Seeing the super shed, he drove towards it, backed in and emptied his load, then watched as his mate did the same. Forty minutes later, without speaking, he gave the signal to leave and they were on the road to Sydney.

  He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

  Chapter 5

  Six months later

  Unable to sleep and not wanting to wake Ella, Matt had taken himself outside and squeezed into the old tyre that had been moulded into a swing.

  Swing sway, swing sway. His feet touched the ground as he moved; it was dark and warm. Lost in thoughts of the past six months, he was oblivious to anything except the movement of the swing and the beer he held.

  Embarrassment flooded through him as he remembered how he had torn down to a local truck yard in Clare the morning after he’d discovered the fertiliser missing, demanding to know who had been out on the road that night. Accusations flew, Matt insisting that someone must have seen something.

  After all, truckies were on the roads often when others weren’t.They talked to each other continually on the two-way and this company knew he had fertiliser on the ground.They had carted it.

  Oh, he could still hear it all in his head. He wished he couldn’t.

  ‘Who else knew you’d carted it to my place, Frankie? Who?’ Matt had yelled.‘Someone must have known ’cos it’s gone. Someone who has a truck and knew it was there!’

  ‘Mate, you’d better not be accusing me,’ Frankie had warned, his eyes like slits.‘I know nothin’ about you and your bloody fertiliser. I’m sorry I carted it to you. Now piss off, before you get hurt.’

  Matt hadn’t backed down – too angry, upset and fearful to notice he had pushed Frankie too far – a fist had flown through the air and connected with his chin, knocking Matt out.

  He’d been hauled unceremoniously into the owner’s office and left there until Anna had arrived to collect him.

  They had both slunk from the yard, Anna humiliated that Matt had caused such a scene and so sad that he had been pushed to this. Matt had had his pride dinted beyond repair.

  They had argued on the way to the police station, Anna questioning why he had been so stupid.

  ‘What were you thinking, Matt? Some of them are your friends. Why would they know who did it? Why would you think they had done it?’ Matt had remained mute, sure that someone, somewhere, must know something. They stopped at the station. Not waiting for the car to come to a stop, Matt got out and slammed the door, stomping inside. He didn’t wait to see if Anna was following.

  A detective had ushered them into a windowless room and asked questions.

  ‘Who knew it was there?’

  ‘Only the company who carted it and the fertiliser company themselves,’ Matt had replied.

  ‘Do you know who could have taken it?’

  Matt had sprung up, his fists against his sides, ignoring Anna’s calming hand on his arm. ‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t be in here talking to you. I’d be out there getting it back. Do you know what this could do to me? To us? I could lose my farm!’

  The detective had suggested that he sit down then said: ‘Something like this is going to be hard to investigate. There won’t really be any evidence left behind and if we do find it, how can we prove it’s yours? I’m sure whoever has bought it will have mocked up the paperwork. It’s probably just easier if we give you a report number and you claim it on your insurance.’

  Matt and Anna gaped at the man. ‘But it’s not insured,’ Anna managed to say. ‘We don’t really have any sort of insurance to cover something like this. It’s too expensive.’

  ‘Well of
course we’ll look into it, but I’m just telling you, it is going to be hard to investigate.’

  They hadn’t talked on the way home. The reality of what could happen paralysed them both and, really, there seemed to be nothing left to say.

  The police hadn’t come. They didn’t return Matt’s many phone calls and when he visited the station the answer he kept getting was: ‘I’m sorry, there’s not much we can do.’

  His anger at the police and the system which had so clearly failed him simply served as fodder for his desire to find out who had wrecked his life.

  From then on, he’d spent hours pouring over country newspapers, googling ‘fertiliser theft’ or questioning locals if they had heard of any other farm burglaries. His attempts at investigation had revealed nothing.

  No one knew anything or at least nothing they were willing to tell him about, and it seemed to Matt he and only he had been targeted. Whether that was realistic or not, he didn’t know, but the result was he was now obsessed with why it had happened to him.

  ‘Why me?’ was the question that he asked over and over. ‘Why me?’

  Matt had tried to move on since then. He’d dare anyone to say he hadn’t. He’d helped Anna plant a veggie garden in the backyard, doing his best to hide his humiliation when he had to ask his best friend, Sam, for manure – yet another reminder of his failure. He’d tried to find work. Sam had offered him a tractor-driving job on his farm, but he wouldn’t take charity from his friend and no one else needed a worker.

  In between all of this, he still scanned newspapers, looking for a reason behind what happened. But it was over now – all gone and he felt empty. Every time he closed his eyes he saw all his worldly possessions lined up in rows ready for sale. Every piece of equipment had a history; a history he had created. The portable sheep yards he’d bought after contract seeding for a farmer on the other side of town, the tractor he’d been able to buy through hire purchase because he finally had enough assets behind him to take out a loan – all gone at the auction; it had felt like he was selling his soul. Matt swallowed hard at the memory of the auctioneer yelling out prices and the throng of people bidding or just milling around laughing and talking to each other, oblivious to his pain as he slowly and methodically lost everything he’d worked so hard to accumulate.

  Tonight, when he’d woken and his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see the cracks in the walls of the old house they had shifted into after the farm had been sold. Anna had looked for a farmhouse to rent, but the only habitable place she’d been able to find was a stone house in Spalding. It was on a corner in the main street, with a shop opposite and a pub on the other corner.

  Matt had felt sick when she’d told him – not only had he lost his farm, he was going to be living in the main street, evidence of his failure there for all to see whenever people drove by. He could imagine the locals talking as they pulled up at the pub: ‘Oh, have you heard? Matt and Anna Butler have moved into the house over there. Yeah, he lost the farm. Poor bugger. ’Then they wouldn’t give him a second thought as they drank their first beer and laughed at the jokes Joe the publican told.

  Anna had tried to turn the house into a home. She had made bright yellow curtains for the kitchen and blue and white striped ones for their bedroom. She had used some of the Centrelink money they received to buy paint; duck-egg blue for the kitchen and for Ella’s room a pale pink. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t hide the decay, or rising damp or the fact the house had been built over a hundred years ago. It didn’t feel like much maintenance had been done since. Tonight he had been able to hear the hot north wind whistling through the cracks around the windowpanes and see the streetlight shining around the thin curtains.

  Swing sway, swing sway. Matt tried to ignore the ache building in his chest by giving himself up to the movement of the swing.

  The night before the clearing sale, Sam and Kate had come over to help them load their final boxes into the trailer and Nick and Rob had both come to help shift the furniture from the farm into the house in Spalding. As the flat bed truck, driven by Nick and borrowed from Ian, had driven out of the drive for the last time, Matt stood looking at the disappearing trailer. Sam had appeared holding a beer.

  He handed it to Matt, who took it, ripped the top off it and swallowed the whole bottle in a couple of gulps. Then they had gone to sit in the empty shearing shed, swigging on more beer and rum, almost talking. But not quite. Matt had things he wanted to tell his friend, but he couldn’t find the words. He wished he could describe the huge balloon of pain, hurt and frustration which sat inside him. The helplessness. He wanted to ask Sam how to get over this, how to face the future – but if he couldn’t think of any answers, what chance would Sam have? Sam had never been in Matt’s place and was unlikely ever to be, since he came from the oldest farming family in the district. From money. He couldn’t possibly understand the way Matt had struggled to buy the farm. It didn’t matter. Sam had stood alongside Matt every step of the way.

  He and Sam had been friends since primary school, played footy together, drunk their first beers together and been each other’s best man. Matt understood Sam was trying to be the best friend he could be, but he couldn’t bear the pitying glances, the gaps in their conversations. They had gone from being the greatest of mates to having nothing in common.

  In the long pauses, Matt had known Sam was searching for something to say. The noise of a chain clanking against the tin seemed so loud in the awkward silence. Then Sam had brought up the subject of Jasper, trying to convince Matt, as Anna had, that selling his faithful companion and working dog was a bad idea.

  ‘Don’t sell Jasper, mate.You’ll need him. He’s your friend.’ Anna had insisted on taking her old kelpie, Bindy, with them but Matt had been adamant. If he wasn’t farming he wouldn’t be keeping anything that reminded him of all he had lost – he’d even sold his ute and bought a third-hand rust bucket of a ute, but at least it wouldn’t remind him of the farm. And there was no way he was keeping the dog, even though Jasper had been his constant companion for the last few years.

  Matt flashed back to the auctioneer’s voice.

  ‘Here’s a dog who knows what he’s about. He’s a yard dog with brilliance. I’ve worked with him many times. He’s a backer and barker. What am I bid for Jasper?’

  As Alec Harper had raised his hand in the final bid, something inside Matt had broken.

  Alec Harper now owned his mate. Alec Harper! Matt almost spat the name out loud as the swing creaked in the darkness. His neighbour, who was known for his lack of compassion towards animals. God only knew what his old mate was enduring now. Matt felt the ache of regret every single day.

  Without warning, the air was filled with laughter as the patrons from the pub over the road spilled out onto the street. It must be midnight.

  Listening to the young blokes talking and car doors slamming, Matt realised how far removed he’d become from what had been his life. He’d been happy, doing what he’d always dreamed of. Sure, they’d struggled financially, but that was normal and, besides, he’d always believed the hard times wouldn’t last long. A couple of years ago it would have been him leaving the pub, Anna at his side, after dinner with Sam and Kate. A few laughs, a drink or two and a life.

  But not now.

  The rough rope scratched his cheek as he leaned against it. He sighed, and tried to shut out the noise. He wasn’t the same; his life wasn’t the same. Would it ever be? he wondered.

  He drank the last of the beer and hurled the can angrily at the fence.

  Consumed by memories, he couldn’t stop the one he feared the most. The bank. In his mind, he watched himself entering the bank for the final time. Matt had refused to take Anna with him that day. He had still held on to the hope they would offer him another temporary limit, allowing him to buy more fertiliser and still get the rest of his crop in. Or at least some sort of a lifeline.

  But just in case it wasn’t to be, he had told Anna to sta
y home. He couldn’t bare the thought of the woman he loved hearing that he’d failed. She’d argued with him that it was her hard work and her farm too – that he was her husband and she wanted to support him. But Matt was stubborn in his refusal, knowing it would be a tough meeting.

  Bill had shaken his head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matt, I can’t lend you any more money. Maybe if you had insured the fertiliser you could have claimed and had another go, but I’m really not prepared to extend your overdraft any further. My advice is you need to seriously consider selling.’

  Although he’d half expected this response, it still felt to Matt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe and a roaring sound had filled his ears. Bill was still talking, but Matt couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  Surely this man didn’t understand what he had just done. With a slash of his red pen and some careless words, he had destroyed everything Matt and Anna had worked for.

  Chapter 6

  In the darkness, Anna had heard Matt get out of bed and open the flyscreen door. She knew where he was going – the swing. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d gazed out the kitchen window, watching him on the swing, his head bowed in defeat.

  Anna was just as devastated as Matt by the turn their lives had taken. They had adjustments to make, loss to deal with and a whole change of lifestyle. They both felt confined by the small country town, the boundaries of the tiny backyard. Chores which had once filled their days were gone. There was no stock needing attention, no fences in need of fixing, nothing to drive either of them out of the house. And neither of them wanted to go.

  Anna knew Matt was too mortified to show his face on the streets of Spalding. Thankfully, for the first month or so she’d been too busy unpacking, painting, sewing or keeping Ella occupied to go any further than the front yard or corner shop. Even then, she tried to do the shopping first thing in the morning, avoiding any well-meaning but inquisitive people. Sympathy and questions about the future made the sting of failure all the more sharp and, anyway, Matt and Anna didn’t have answers for most of their questions.