Forest

By Peter Stevens

It started with a high school love affair ...

Rachel - wooed by a drug lord and married into murder and crime.

Alex - a National Crime Authority agent, locked into a love that can't be denied.

When Alex returns to mill town Nangwarry, he is devastated to find his first love humiliated, beaten

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aurora House
• Release date: Sep 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781922697936

Book preview

Part One

Alexander and Rachel

1

Ten years earlier

Friday, 15 November 1974

8:40pm. Alex wished like hell that time would slow. For thirteen interminable years, he’d yearned for the end of school, but now, on his last day, he wanted to stay right here.

At the Penola High School dance.

He’d tripped, shockingly, head over heels in love with a gorgeous redhead, Rachel O’Hara.

How did that just happen? He wondered.

The band moved into a Streisand number, just the keys at first, slow and low, then the lead singer, humming the tune.

The notes tugged at Alex’s fallen heart, and then the words ‘... Mem’ries, Light the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories. Of the way we were...’

It was ladies’ choice. Across the hall, Rachel stood.

She’s going to pick me.

Rachel had wanted Alexander Shaw to be her boyfriend all year, but he’d been oblivious.

He was noticeably single and very popular with both teachers and students. Over the past year he’d excelled academically, been senior Prefect and sports captain.

He’s not oblivious to me tonight, Rachel thought. Go get him, girl, it’s your time to shine.

Alex estimated that there were around sixty boys at the dance, all dressed their best.

Thankfully, most of them had partners; Rachel drew boys like bears to honey.

Tonight, only one other boy competed for Rachel’s attention, Svetozar Borojevic. Vito, named after a Yugoslav war hero, or so he said.

But Rachel’s eyes were on Alex.

Like she’s walking on air, he thought.

Rachel had driven her mum mad looking at dresses. ‘Too short, Rachel darling,’ her mum had said. ‘No, that’s much too tight, dear.’ ‘Too expensive, sweetheart.’

Then she had found it. Slim, cream chiffon with lace trims, way, way up the thighs. Short sleeves and a deep vee down the back. Perfect with high black boots. And no bra.

Rachel had giggled at herself in the changeroom mirror. I’m just thankful my boobs have grown at last, she thought.

Alex hardly knew Rachel O’Hara. She’d been a year below him until he’d had a meltdown, failed year twelve and had to repeat.

You would have to be two years in the grave not to fall for Rachel, he thought. Every boy in high school turns like a puppet when she walks past. The teachers do too, though they try to pretend they don’t.

Alex glanced left and right, shifted on his plastic chair. The smell of anti-perspirant on this side of the room was stifling; the boys were dressed and drenched to impress.

Alex wasn’t a pretty boy. At ten he’d had a bad fall from a tree and suffered a broken nose and chipped tooth. It had just been bad luck that his face had hit the one rock on the ground nearby. His nose had never fully recovered, and doctors had said the scar above his eye would always remain.

Alex was just thankful that the rock hadn’t split his head open completely, and, that he’d been alone. The humiliation would have been worse than the wound.

The lights in the school hall were dim. Colours floated from the stage. An overhead disco ball spun slowly, its mirrored lights flitting like mating moths.

The atmosphere was thick with romance. Girls’ perfume mingled with dust; guys’ bodies with a warming supper — the inevitable sausage-rolls.

Alex, drug and alcohol free, felt like he was floating. In the semi-darkness he saw everything clearly.

The approaching girl was tall and so slim she looked taller, with a wide mouth, full, red lips, and a small nose.

Her arms and long legs below her skirt were as pale as new ivory. Her hair was wild, untameable and ferocious: a deep red-brown, full and heavy, flowing over her shoulders and down her back in a glossy torrent.

‘... Scattered pictures, of the smiles we left behind...’

She walked athletically, gracefully.

‘... smiles we gave to one another...’

Alex stood, took a step forward.

Rachel smiled. ‘May I have this dance?’

Alex took Rachel in his arms. Her eyes were emerald-green like a cat’s, and deep, like the sinkholes around Allendale where he’d grown up.

Alex was six foot four. Rachel had to tip her head back to look up at him.

She lifted her arm around his neck.

One of his hands rested on the small of her back, and, as the other held hers, he led her into a slow waltz.

They swayed around the room.

He likes me, Rachel thought, pressing against him. He’s strong, and he holds me gently, like I’m treasured, unknown. Vito is the opposite. With him, it’s like you’re already his possession. He holds you close but it’s rough, careless, like you’re his gift. Like a spoiled kid, he just wants to rip the paper off and start using.

Alex guided her around the dance floor.

Vito danced with Rosalie, another Year 12 girl. He was showing off, spinning her around, and Rosalie laughed, red in the face.

Then Vito pulled Rosalie hard against him and her mouth popped open in surprise.

Vito looked over her shoulder at his mate, Drago Kasin, and grinned.

Drago’s a beast, Alex thought, and as ugly as a Caucasian Mountain Dog.

Vito made an obscene gesture with his fingers behind Rosalie’s back, and Drago laughed.

Could it be true, Alex wondered, that Drago strangled his own sister’s cat?

Who cares? He thought. I’m holding the gorgeous Rachel O’Hara.

Rachel felt so good in Alex’s arms.

When the music stopped, they moved apart.

She smiled up at him. ‘Having a good night?’

‘The band’s great.’

‘You dance well.’

He grinned, showing his chipped front tooth. ‘Mum made me learn,’ he said. ‘I never thought I’d need to. I’m glad now.’ His grin widened. ‘I was sure I’d stomp on your feet.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

‘Maybe you could dance with me again.’

‘Of course.’ She leaned back, considering his immaculate white shirt and grey flares. ‘Hey, I like your clothes.’

‘I love your clothes,’ he said. ‘You look amazing.’

‘Thank you. Mum and I spent quite a bit of time choosing.’ She laughed. ‘Well, Mum did most of the choosing, I just had to make the final decision.’

Alex ran his finger over the material at her shoulder. ‘Smooth.’

‘Yeah.’ She frowned. ‘Expensive. I had to hit my savings.’

There were a few moments of quiet.

‘What are you doing for the holidays?’ she asked.

‘Working,’ Alex said. ‘I start Monday.’

‘Oh? Where?’

‘At the sawmill. Nangwarry.’

‘Oh.’

‘I turn eighteen on Monday as well.’

‘Gosh. Congratulations,’ Rachel said. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks. What about you?’

‘My birthday? December 12th.’

‘So close to Christmas!’

‘I know. But it’s good.’

‘Will you be eighteen?’

‘Seventeen. I started school when I’d just turned five.’

‘Oh, yeah, of course. Actually,’ Alex said, ‘I meant, what about you? Are you working over the holidays?’

‘Babysitting for Mum and Dad. How are you getting to work?’

‘We live on a farm out towards the border. It’s too far to travel. I’m staying with the Stepanovs. George and Anujka.’

‘They live in Nangwarry, don’t they? My mum and dad know them.’

‘Yeah, I think they have a lot of friends. George used to be a boxer. They live in McIntosh Street, just past the shops.’

‘That sounds nice.’

‘I hope so.’

Not sure if nice is the best word to describe Nangwarry, Alex thought. But it’s a place to work, and work means money to help pay uni fees.

A migrant destination, Nangwarry is known as the roughest town in South Australia — with no resident police force. It has three times the average adult alcohol consumption, violence, rape, theft, prostitution, drugs.

The music started again, and Rachel moved back into Alex’s arms.

Vito came in from outside and leaned in the doorway, staring at them.

He’s been out for a smoke, Alex thought, or maybe puffing on a joint from his dealer dad.

Alex was tall and slim. Vito was short and solid, with shoulder-length black hair and dark sideburns. More dark hair curled out of the vee of his partly unbuttoned long-sleeved white shirt. While Alex’s skin was burned brown by the sun, Vito’s was swarthy olive with a sweaty sheen.

Alex moved his hand on Rachel’s back, keeping her pressed against him.

‘What are you doing for your birthday?’ Rachel said.

‘Nothing, I guess. We have a family lunch Sunday, and then I’ve got to take my gear to the Stepanovs’.’

‘After work on Monday?

‘Not sure.’

She hesitated. ‘Want to come over?’

Alex grinned, surprised. ‘Sure. To your house?’

She nodded.

‘Okay,’ said Alex. ‘Where do you live?’

‘On Penola Road. It’s a forest house, on its own, set back from the road, green roof, about three kilometres out from Nangwarry.’

‘I’ve seen it. Does it have a big green letterbox? Like a kerosene drum or something?’

‘Yes. That’s the one. The milky leaves our milk and bread in the drum.’

‘I know it. Sure, I’ll come.’ Alex steered her around a couple who had swung into their path. ‘I have to have dinner with the Stepanovs. I could come over after that? Maybe about 7.30 or 8.00?’

‘Should I get my dad to pick you up?’

He grinned. ‘I’ve got wheels. Dad let me have his FJ Holden.’

The lights brightened, and the band moved up tempo, sending feet tapping and hips swinging.

‘You get up every morning

From your alarm clock’s warning

Take the 8:15 into the city.’

Alex felt a tap on his shoulder.

White teeth grinned, but there was malice there. ‘Mind if I cut in?’ Vito said. ‘You’ve had the lady forever. I wouldn’t want her to miss all the fun. How about I give her a real dance?’ He winked at Rachel.

Alex looked at his partner.

She shrugged. Rachel seemed to derive a peculiar pleasure from Vito’s nerve and persistence.

He released her, and Vito moved in to take her hand.

‘With a real man,’ Vito said carelessly over his shoulder. He performed clever dance moves, swaying his body, swimming his arms and clicking his fingers.

Opposite him, Rachel grinned and imitated.

Disgusted, Alex walked to the end of the hall to pick up a soft drink, and watch.

Rachel sang out the words, while Vito added the echo with a wide grin.

‘Taking care of business (every day)

Taking care of business (every way)

I’ve been taking care of business (it’s all mine)

Taking care of business and working overtime.’

Rachel was in a happy whirl of movement, enjoying Vito’s grasp of the music and the dance.

Alex burned with unaccustomed sensations of jealousy.

At the end of the dance, Rachel turned to walk away, but Vito took her arm. Rachel looked down at his hand, frowned and looked up at him again.

Alex took two steps towards them, but Rachel pulled her arm free.

As she left, Vito grinned at her back, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. He laughed and walked away.

‘He thinks he’s it and a bit,’ Rachel said.

‘What happened?’ Alex said.

‘Nothing. One dance is enough. He had one before. I’m getting tired.’

There were tables and plastic chairs near the soft-drink bar, as well as a two-seater lounge from the senior students’ common room.

‘Maybe grab the couch?’

He bought her a Coke and a packet of Cheezels.

Couples sat at the tables nearby and touched hands or made shy, stilted conversation. Others waited on the dance floor for the next song.

Rachel sipped her drink and picked at the snacks. ‘He’s quite funny, but I don’t particularly like the way he touches me.’

‘Vito touches you?’ Alex felt anger stirring.

The music started again.

‘Yes.’ She saw his expression. ‘Oh, you know... boy stuff.’

‘Boy stuff,’ he repeated.

‘He’s very possessive.’

Alex made himself calm down. He took a long drink from the can. ‘Have you known him long?’

‘Yeah. He’s been in my class for four years. He asked me out a couple of times. Penola Show, drive-in.’

‘Drive-in?’ He put the can down, a little too hard. A few drops splashed out.

‘Yeah. Friday night. Cowboy movie.’

‘Oh.’

‘Dad insisted on driving us.’ She laughed. ‘You should have seen how uncomfortable Vito was. Dad was there in the car with us the whole time, and so were Aidan and Bridget.’

‘I see.’ Relieved, Alex took her hand. ‘Aidan and Bridget? Are they your brother and sister? How many are there in your family?’

‘Aidan’s my brother, and Bridget’s my younger sister. There’s ten of us, with Mum and Dad. Eight kids. I’m second oldest.’

‘Ten! Big family.’

She smiled happily. ‘Yeah. I love it. How about you?’

‘Only child.’

‘Oh.’

The bracket finished, and the lights came on.

The band went outside for a cigarette.

The principal, Mr Hawkins, climbed the steps onto the stage.

‘Mrs Slater,’ he said, addressing a teacher near the door, ‘would you be kind enough to bring in anyone from outside? And the toilets too please?’

When everyone was present, Mr Hawkins began. ‘Students and staff,’ he said. ‘I want to thank you for another very successful year.’

Alex only half listened. His arm was around Rachel.

Eventually, the principal concluded with an encouragement for everyone to do even better next year, whether at work, in tertiary education or back at school. He then invited the band back on stage.

‘How about a big hand for the Limestone Quintet?’ the principal said. As the clapping faded, he invited all the students to take their partners for the second-last bracket of the night.

The lights faded.

The singer, with her strong and melodious voice, launched into Ringo Starr’s song ‘You come on like a dream, peaches and cream, lips like strawberry wine. You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful and you’re mine.’

Alex stood. ‘C’mon.’ He pulled her up.

You’re sixteen, you’re so beautiful, Alex thought, and you’re mine.

Way too soon, the night was over.

Lights blazed brightly, and teachers sighed with relief.

Alex and Rachel walked out into fresh, cool air.

Outside, boys gathered to talk and boast, girls stood together laughing, and a few couples clung together, reluctant to part.

In the shadowed gardens surrounding the carpark. Vito had Rosalie pressed hard up against a tree while Drago watched.

Rosalie squirmed, trying to evade his clutches.

Several teachers stood around, chatting. They hadn’t noticed the trio outside the circle of light. Should I call them?

Rosalie broke free and walked away.

‘There’s Dad,’ Rachel said.

A thick-set man in his 40s stood next to an old, silver Chrysler Valiant. The driver’s door was open. Her dad had a round, clean-shaven face and untidy greying hair. His expression clouded as he saw them together.

Rachel grinned and squeezed Alex’s fingers. ‘See you Monday night.’

She skipped over to the car.

Her dad sank into the driver’s seat, and Rachel gave Alex a quick wave as she got in on the opposite side.

2

Saws howled in the big iron building. Timber production rang to the crashing, thumping, roaring sound of machines and the shouts and curses of men.

Nearby, in the stacking shed, under the building’s hot tin roof, Alex sweated through his first day of work.

Outside the green mill, freshly felled, sap-oozing logs waited on skids for their turn to pass through a de-barker, enter the iron shed and be devoured by screaming saws.

The logs, broken down by razor-sharp, revolving blades, became boards which followed a series of conveyors and belts out to the stackers.

Here, the noise level was more bearable.

The grader, Anujka Stepanov, crayon-marked second-grade lumber.

Anujka, in her late 30s, was buxom, cheerful and childless. God had not seen fit to provide an heir for her and husband George, a circumstance which provided sufficient room in their small home for a boarder.

As she graded, she tossed blonde shoulder-length hair and flashed her bright-red-lipstick-pearly-teeth smile, and her commentary, down the stacking chain.

Perspiring workers stacked the wood onto flat railway carriages, which, when filled, were towed to steam kilns for drying.

Another mill within the complex planed the rough timber into boards. Anujka’s husband, George Stepanov, operated a moulder there. He was a giant, several inches taller than Alex, and twice as broad. A boxer in his home country, Yugoslavia, he’d won all but five of his 302 amateur fights.

He’d become the country’s heavyweight champion in 1958 and the European champion the following year, before being knocked out and diagnosed with brain damage, then retiring.

He was a legend.

The mill supplied timber construction materials to the building industry.

Across the road was the town.

Alex was the new boy, stacking the lightest boards.

Closer to the grader, Drew, skinny and tousle-headed, had heavier timber.

‘Plenty of boards coming for you, young Drew,’ Anujka said.

Drew grinned, enjoying the challenge. ‘I’ll handle it,’ he said, and ripped the ninety by thirty-five boards off the chains.

At the end of the conveyor, the bulk of timber reached an automatic stacker. The new ‘sticker boy’ there was Svetozar Borojevic.

I didn’t know he was starting today too, Alex thought. How did he manage to get the easiest job here?

The building filled with the sweet smells of pine-sap turpentine and oily chain lubricant.

The chain moved relentlessly, and eventually Alex couldn’t keep up. He reached up to jab the stop button.

The huge room went quiet as the stacking chain clanked to a halt.

After a short silence, Vito’s voice carried through the shed. ‘Come on, school captain. Pull the finger.’

Alex ignored him, finished the stickers, ripped off four boards at once and punched the on button; the chain rattled to life. He caught up with the work, looked along the chain, saw he had a break coming and glanced across the other stacks at Anujka.

She nodded. ‘Great work, superman,’ she called out.

The conveyor emptied, and Alex noticed that the whine of the saws had stopped.

‘Breakdown,’ Anujka said. She climbed down from her elevated grading platform and walked off to the toilets.

Alex sank gratefully onto his stack but saw Drew pull armloads of stickers from a trolley and pile them vertically next to his workstation. Good idea, Alex thought. Stock up while there’s a break. He rose to copy him.

Anujka walked past him on her way back. She flashed him a cheeky smile. ‘How’re you doing, Alex?’

He grinned back. ‘I think I’ll make it.’

‘I make you my special tonight. Karađorđeva šnicla.’

Alex frowned. ‘Sorry. Kara … what?’

She laughed. ‘Steak, rolled in bread, stuffed with ham, cream and cheese.’

‘Yum,’ Alex said, suddenly starving.

‘We feed you good, don’t you worry.’ Anujka walked away, smiling over her shoulder.

Vito followed her, glancing over to Alex. ‘Yum,’ he mimicked in a squeaky voice. ‘You wouldn’t know what to do with it, schoolboy.’

‘With what?’ Alex said.

Vito just laughed.

You were a schoolboy too, yesterday, Alex thought. He kept silent.

Vito climbed up next to Anujka at her workstation. They laughed together, glancing towards him.

Saws began to scream again across the traverser track, and soon boards thumped from the overpass.

The sharp rosemary smell of newly sawn pine wafted through the shed.

Oh, well, Alex thought, at least I’m getting paid.

At 7.37pm, Rachel pulled the lounge curtains back for the tenth time. ‘I thought I heard a car,’ she said.

‘You said eight o’clock,’ Noreen said.

Rachel’s mum was an amazingly slim mother of eight. She wore a knee length skirt and, like her daughter, a white short-sleeved buttoned-up shirt.

‘I said between 7.30 and 8.00,’ Rachel said.

‘Remember what I said?’ Noreen asked. ‘If he comes, you can go down to Headquarters with the eggs. I talked to your father. He said yes, so long as you come straight back.’

Rachel frowned. ‘Okay, Mum.’

It was a generous concession from her mother.

Bridget, Caitlin and Kathleen peered around their sister, bubbling with questions. Their dad was behind them. ‘What if he doesn’t come?’ The girls asked. ‘What’s his car like? Did you kiss him at the dance?’

‘He’ll come, he said he would. I haven’t seen his car, and, no, I didn’t kiss him.’ She glanced at her dad. ‘We’ve only just met.’

‘But isn’t he in the same year as you?’

‘He never noticed me.’

‘Bloody good thing,’ her dad said. ‘You’re sixteen.’

‘Nearly seventeen,’ Rachel said.

‘Girls. Be quiet,’ Noreen scolded. ‘Leave poor Rachel alone. You too, Patrick. Bridget, go and see if Ryan’s done his homework.’

Aidan slouched into the room. ‘Mum, Shane’s spilt milk all over the kitchen floor.’

‘Oh, God,’ Noreen said. ‘I told him not to get his own drink.’

She rushed out.

‘Here he comes!’ Rachel said.

Patrick was first onto the veranda when Alex’s green and white FJ Holden turned though their gate and raised a dusty trail down to the house.

Rachel smoothed down her jeans, and then smoothed her hair before shrugging. It will never be tidy anyway, she thought. Why do I bother?

Her inch-high boot heels clipped on the dry pine boards as she followed her father.

With a big meal in his belly and aching all over from the unfamiliar work, Alex wondered why he’d agreed to come. A good night’s sleep was what he needed.

Mr O’Hara stood on the veranda, hands on hips.

Like a sawn-off oak tree, Alex thought. A tree with short grey hair and grey stubble. You could break an axe handle on his face, and he wouldn’t feel it.

He parked the car on the patchy grass close to the front door.

Alex noticed the old Chrysler next to the house, along with a battered Volkswagen Beetle. Her mum’s home too, Alex thought, trying to quench butterflies.

He shut off the motor, pushed the heavy door open and got out.

The oak tree stared grimly down at him.

Standing next to her father, Rachel twisted her hands nervously. She tilted her head and smiled.

Strands of Rachel’s hair drifted in the slight breeze. She lifted a hand to smooth it back. She was taller than her dad and slim as celery. Her long legs in tight jeans, tiny waist and curvy figure took his breath away.

Oh, my Lord, he thought. She’s gorgeous.

Negotiating the steps, Alex held out his hand. ‘Good evening, Mr O’Hara,’ he said, glad that his voice came out deep, not squeaky.

‘Hello boy,’ Patrick said.

Alex felt the ham-sized chunk of meat tighten around his fingers like a vice. He gritted his teeth as he felt his bones crunch.

‘Hi, Alex,’ Rachel grinned. She looked at her dad, then reached out and tugged Alex’s hand from her father’s. ‘Dad. Let him go. Thanks for coming, Alex. Come inside.’

She pulled him past her father.

Eight faces pressed to the lounge window. Curtains fell back in place as Rachel opened the front door. ‘Mum, this is Alex.’

So, this is where Rachel gets her height and looks.

Alex offered Mrs O’Hara a box of Roses Chocolates. ‘Mrs O’Hara. It’s very nice to meet you.’

Noreen beamed. ‘Oh, Alex. Thank you. How did you know? I’m an addict.’

The children jumped up and down with excitement.

‘They don’t see a lot of sweets around here,’ Noreen said.

‘Mum, can we open them?’ Kathleen said.

‘Yes, Mum, please,’ little Shane added.

‘Mum, please?’ Ryan said.

Under pressure from the tugging children Mrs O’Hara gave in. ‘Oh, alright. Caitlin, open them and share them out. Make sure everyone gets one.’

‘And eat them slow,’ Patrick said. ‘We don’t want stomach aches and a rush on the loo.’

Noreen turned to Alex. She smiled. ‘We heard it’s your birthday today. Happy birthday.’

The younger children, without leaving the chocolate box, squealed, ‘Birthday, birthday!’

‘Eighteen today,’ Alex said.

‘So, you’ll get an adult wage!’ Patrick said.

Rachel pulled Alex into the kitchen. Pictures on the walls and a small statue he’d seen on the way in suggested the family was religious.

Rachel introduced her siblings one by one.

Alex shook hands with seventeen year old Aidan, who, like his dad, was very serious, and acknowledged the others with a grin.

‘You come from Nangwarry?’ Patrick said.

‘Dad,’ Rachel said, ‘I told you, Alex is off a farm.’

‘Mum and Dad have a sheep farm north-east of Penola, near Comaum. I’m staying with the Stepanovs and working at the sawmill during summer to get some money.’

‘I see. And next year?’

‘Dad.’ Rachel wrestled with Alex’s fingers.

‘I need to wait and see how well I’ve done in matriculation,’ Alex said. ‘If I can, I’m going to apply to do Forestry at ANU in Canberra.’

‘ANU?’ Patrick asked.

‘Australian National University. The Australian Forestry School.’

‘University?’ The tree looked pleased for the first time. ‘That would be for a few years?’

‘Three years for a Bachelor of Science. Forest Sciences.’

Mr O’Hara’s face split into a wide smile. ‘Well. You’ll come back a forester, yes? Tell these know-it-alls around here a thing or two.’ He chuckled.

‘If I get in,’ Alex said. ‘But I’m not sure, Mr O’Hara, if I’ll be telling anyone how to do their job when I’m fresh out of university.’

‘Good thinking, boy. Farm near Penola, you say? Big farm?’

‘Big enough, I guess. We’re on 300 hectares of grazing land, mostly sheep, some cattle. About 100 hectares more is leased to private forestry development.’

Mr O’Hara looked puzzled.

‘About 1,000 acres all together,’ Alex said, ‘in the old measurement.’

Patrick’s face lit up. ‘Ah!’

‘Dad,’ Rachel said again. ‘Alex, Mum wondered if you could drop off some eggs that we promised to the Wilsons. Just up the road at Headquarters.’

‘Okay. Of course. Now?’

‘If you don’t mind,’ Noreen said.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Rachel said.

Mr O’Hara frowned. ‘Just up to Headquarters and straight back.’

‘Yes Dad.’ Rachel was annoyed. She led Alex towards the front door.

‘Big family?’ Patrick persisted, following them.

‘No. I’m an only child,’ Alex said.

‘Ah.’

‘Dad!’

Rachel fastened her seat belt.

Alex started the car and drove it up to the main road.

He accelerated onto the bitumen, changing gears with the steering column lever. Gum trees flashed past on either side.

He grinned. ‘I don’t often have passengers.’

‘Girls?’

‘You’re the first.’

She smiled back. ‘It’s the first time I’ve been in a car with a boy.’ She looked around. ‘Alone, that is.’

‘Big day for both of us.’

‘My dad must like you.’

‘To let me drive you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But I hadn’t met your dad before.’

She shrugged. ‘He must have heard reports. He’s very careful.’ Rachel sat with her legs pressed modestly together, white shirt tucked in. She clutched the two cartons of eggs in her lap.

Alex seemed a long way away across the wide bench seat.

Rachel pushed her unruly hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She examined the interior. ‘Plenty of room.’

‘Yeah. Back in the day, these were a popular family car.’

‘You said it’s a Holden?’

‘Yes. FJ. 1953.’

‘It runs well.’ She grinned shyly at him.

Alex pulled towards the edge of the road to give a fully loaded log truck room as it swept past in the opposite direction. The car shuddered as the truck’s wind tugged at them. ‘Yeah, Dad’s looked after it. It has a reconditioned motor. No rust.’

She ran a hand over the seat. ‘Is it leather?’

‘Yep. This seat can lay back and make a bed. Camping body, it’s called. I’ve slept in it. Fishing with a mate,’ he added when her eyebrow raised.

‘Handy.’ She looked around, and then back to him. ‘I had fun on Friday night.’

‘Me too.’

Rachel thought about how good she’d felt when he’d held her. ‘The band was good.’

‘Great.’ He grinned. ‘And Mr Hawkins spoke well.’

‘Yeah. Way too long. How was work?’ she asked.

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. ‘It was okay. I get paid for it.’ Alex frowned, ‘Vito was there.’

‘Working with you?’

‘We’re in the same shed. I’m stacking, he’s helping with the auto-stacker.’

‘You stack timber?’

‘Yeah. It’s quite hard. Vito scored an easy job, working at the end of the line.’

‘Sounds like Vito. His dad’s got influence.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘My dad said everyone’s afraid of Lech.’

‘Does he work in the mill?’

‘In the dry mill. He’s the union rep.’

‘Oh.’

‘They have business interests too,’ she said.

Alex slowed. ‘Is this the Headquarters turn off?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

Alex indicated, waited for a white utility to pass, and then turned into the entrance.

He drove down a short bitumen road between tall shady pines and bumped over a cattle grid into a large forest clearing.

Sheep scattered as they drove up a slight incline to sheds and houses.

Rachel pointed to a big house surrounded by large evergreen trees. ‘That’s the Wilsons’.’

Alex parked next to a side gate. Rachel searched for the door handle, and gave him an apologetic smile as she pushed the lever up and heaved the door open. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

She sensed him watching her as she walked to the gate, lifted the latch and walked up a paved path in the overflowing garden.

Sarah Wilson answered the back door.

‘Hi Sarah, Mum sent some eggs.’

‘Oh, thanks! Do you want to come in?’

‘Can’t. Alex Shaw is waiting for me.’

‘Alex? From school?’

‘Yes. He has a car. Dad let him drive me.’

‘Oh. Wow. Hang on, I’ll come to the gate.’

‘Okay.’

Sarah put the eggs down and slipped on sandals. She followed Rachel back to the garden gate. ‘Is Alex your boyfriend?’

‘Not really my boyfriend. We haven’t gone out.’

‘Oh?’ Sarah said. ‘But he’s driving you?’

‘This is the first time,’ Rachel said. ‘I have to go. See you again soon.’

‘Sure.’ Sarah leaned on the gate as it closed. As Rachel glanced back, Sarah stared at the car.

Rachel slid back in. ‘That’s Sarah Wilson. She’s in year eleven.’

‘I think I’ve seen her around.’

Rachel grinned. ‘I doubt it.’

Alex pressed the starter. ‘What?’

She fastened her seat belt and smiled. ‘I doubt you’ve seen her. You didn’t see me until Friday night.’

He laughed. ‘Okay. Fair enough.’ He pulled the column shift down into first and eased away from the house. Sarah waved.

‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’ Rachel said.

Alex shrugged. ‘She’s okay.’

Rachel appreciated that he drove smoothly, not like her dad, who handled their Chrysler like an unruly beast.

‘By the way,’ Alex said, ‘I did see you at school. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.’

Her heart danced. ‘Thank you, Alex.’

They left the workshops, offices, and houses, and turned back towards Rachel’s home.

Thick, white, and grey gum trees bordered the road. Behind the gums, farming land drifted by on their right and tall pine plantations on their left.

They would soon be home. Damn.

Rachel saw a narrow track approaching at the edge of paddocks; one that she and her sisters had explored on their walks.

‘And straight back,’ Rachel’s father’s words echoed in her mind. Well, she thought, even Dad can wait five minutes.

She reached out and gripped Alex’s arm. ‘Turn down there.’ She pointed.

His foot came off the accelerator. ‘Down that track?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. Why?’ He put his foot hard on the brake and swung off the road between the gums.

‘Down here a bit,’ she said.

The car bumped down the rough track.

She put her hand on the dash as the Holden lurched. ‘Nearly there. Just a bit further.’

The scrub to their left thinned to stubby grass under spindly trees. Rachel found the flat, clear patch of ground. ‘Pull in there.’

Alex turned slowly off the track and into the clearing. He looked around, looked at her, and then switched off the engine.

Rachel undid her seat belt and shifted across.

‘Your dad will get mad if you’re late home,’ Alex said.

‘He’ll be alright for an extra five minutes. I want you to kiss me.’

His eyes were deep blue. She put her arms around his waist and tilted her face up.

‘I want to kiss you too,’ he said.

She slid her hands up and around his neck.

He reached around her and held her. He smelled of shaving cream.

As they kissed, Rachel felt bursts of heat throughout her whole body.

She drew back. ‘You’re right. I have to go.’

He