The Ten-pound Ticket Read Online Free

little face, and resolved once more to be brave for him. This was their world now, and that was that. His face felt clammy; it was scorching inside the cab. The air vents on the dashboard and doors were open, but the air that rushed in was hot, like sitting under a hair dryer. She considered opening the window wider, but thought better of it. She didn’t want any more of the red dust inside the confined space, she could already feel the grit crunching between her teeth and irritating her skin.
    Slade pulled a soft packet of cigarettes from his top pocket and shook one into his mouth. Susie watched as his dirty black thumbnail rolled the flint of his lighter and his cigarette sparked to life, revealing it to be a foul-smelling concoction that made her eyes water. The baby spluttered and coughed as he wrinkled his nose, before finally waking and instantly crying.
    Slade stared at the bundle on her lap, ‘Ah, little fella’s woken up has he?’ He spat into the foot well and grinned.
    ‘Um…’ said Susie. Nicholas’s wails were growing louder. ‘I don’t suppose you could – you know – I mean, I don’t think he likes it much’. She looked meaningfully at Slade’s cigarette, hoping she hadn’t just mortally offended someone she had to spend the next seven hours with. Slade frowned at the offending object, as though noticing it for the first time, and promptly threw it out the window. Susie exhaled, thanked him, and turned back to Nicholas, unbuttoning the top of her blouse and holding his little face to her breast. A slow blush crept up Slade’s neck. Susie fixed her eyes on a point in the distance and stared straight ahead, trying to look indifferent and calm, acutely aware of Slade’s sly glances to his left.
    Suddenly, Slade shifted in his seat, leant forward and reached out towards her breast and her baby. In his hand was a tin billycan, chipped, dented and grubby.
    ‘Here.’ He thrust the can towards her, his eyes averted.
    ‘Not for me, I’m okay, thank you.’ She raised her palm.
    ‘You may be okay now, Missy, but you won’t be soon if you don’t have some water. If you conk out, d’you think I’ll make a good substitute nursemaid?’
    Susie fumbled with the large can, trying to get a grip. She placed the spout on her lips and tried to ignore the smell of cigarettes that lingered around the opening. She swigged the water, which tasted vaguely metallic.
    ‘Thank you.’ She handed it back to her driver and watched as he took several large glugs.
    Several hours later, the truck pulled up inside the gates of Mulga Plains sheep station. If Susie was still holding on to any shred of hope that everything would be okay, she let go of it at that moment. Maybe she should have begged her parents for the money, maybe she should have told Nicholas’s father of the situation and asked him for help. Instead, the pride, stubbornness and scrambled brain that was the gift from Mother Nature for many pregnant women, had led her to this. Susie knew with a thudding certainty that her plan for a life in the sun with her baby had been a very grave mistake.

3
    It might have been 1962 in England, but here in Willeroo it felt more like 1862. The sheep station was accessed through grand, ornate wrought-iron gates, each forged with the name Mulga Plains in their design. They were imposing, huge and gave the impression of a well-kept ranch and a happy farm, both of which were entirely false. In fact the gates were the only element of grandeur about the place and made the disappointment of her surroundings more acute, like removing the ribbon on a fancy box of chocolates and finding dirt.
    The main house looked like it had been added to in a haphazard fashion over the years. The original grey stone structure had been extended with the addition of large, timber-walled rooms with flat roofs and wire netting over the windows to try and stop the invasion of bugs. It was ugly and sprawling, grey, brown and uninspiring. A wide