Page 44 of Outback Secrets
‘That’s wonderful to hear, but how exactly will a long-term relationship work for you? Henrietta’s job takes her all over the world for long periods at a time, and your hours aren’t exactly conducive to a relationship either.’
Liam tensed a little. Fiona was right—being a publican would be hard on a relationship, and hell, he didn’t even want one, but it still slightly irked him that she had certain ideas about him.
‘That’s true,’ he said after a long pause, ‘but I guess where there’s a will there’s a way. I’m sure Henri and I will work it out.’
Apparently not happy with this answer, Fiona changed tack. ‘But it’s not just the lifestyle, is it?’ He kept his mouth shut because it was clearly a rhetorical question. ‘Being an ag pilot is one of the most dangerous professions there is. Everyone says air travel is the safest kind of transport but that’s bullshit when you include agricultural flying.’
He drew back slightly at the sound of prim and proper Fiona Forward cursing, but she just barrelled on.
‘Did you know that the incidence of death and injury amongst ag pilots is over one hundred times Australia’s national average for all other work-related injuries? The statistics speak for themselves. I just don’t understand why Henrietta insists on gambling with her life every single day when there are plenty of other, safer careers she’d be good at.’
‘Maybe so,’ he said, unable to resist coming to her defence. ‘But if all ag pilots decided to do something safer, where would that leave farmers who need crops spraying or livestock mustered? And what about bushfires? Without people like Henri risking their lives dropping water bombs, Australia would probably lose a lot more lives to fire.’
Fiona did the sign of the cross. ‘Maybe so, but if you truly care about her the way you say you do, surely you have some concerns about her career as well?’
Liam wanted to tell her that life had no guarantees—you could have the safest job in the world and one day some psycho could turn up wielding a gun and obliterate all you knew—but instead he nodded.
‘Of course I do. From the way she talks, it can be tough being a female in what is essentially still a male-dominated industry and I truly admire her for that. But you’re right, the idea of anything happening to her doesn’t bear thinking about.’
The smile that blossomed on her face told him she approved very much of his answer. She reached out and patted his hand. ‘This has been a good chat, Liam.’
By the time Fiona’s friends arrived and she went off to join them, Liam felt in dire need of a drink himself. And that feeling was very rare these days.
‘Why the long face?’ he heard Lara ask, and for a second he thought she was talking to him, but then he turned to see she was addressing Jim, a retired shire worker and one of his ‘Poker Pensioners’.
The man all but slumped against the bar. ‘Me house is being eaten away by termites.’
Lara made a face that said exactly what she thought of that.
Stifling a laugh as he recalled Lara’s reaction when she’d seen her first huntsman spider, Liam turned to the older man. ‘That’s no good. Haven’t you had regular treatments?’
Jim looked at Liam like he was on drugs. ‘Who can afford that? It’s a bit like insurance—bloody rort.’
Liam raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t have insurance either?’
‘Don’t lecture me, kiddo. I didn’t come here to be made to feel worse.’
Knowing exactly what he came for, Liam went to grab a pint glass, but Lara was already on it. She filled it to the brim with Jim’s favourite beer.
‘That’s on the house,’ Liam said as she handed it to him.
‘Thanks.’ Jim wrapped his stubby fingers around the glass and lifted it to his mouth. ‘Reckon I could go a Bunyip Burger as well.’
‘No worries.’ Liam called the order through to Macca in the kitchen as Lara went off to see if any of their other customers needed refills.
They were reasonably busy tonight because in addition to the usual Friday night crowd, the local CWA were also having their Christmas meeting. There was only a dozen of them, but you’d be mistaken for thinking that number was a lot greater—the women were noisier than the barely legal blokes who frequented the pub on Friday and Saturday nights to play pool.
‘Is your termite problem treatable?’ Liam asked as Jim turned to go join his mates.
He sighed. ‘If I had the funds to fix it, it would be.’
‘How much exactly do you need?’
‘Just under three grand.’
‘Sheesh.’ Liam grimaced. Even playing twice a week as he usually did, Jim would have to win a lot of games of poker to make that kind of money when his fellow players only ever bet with five-cent coins.
‘I know.’ He sighed loudly. ‘Where’s a poor pensioner supposed to get that kind of money?’