‘Cheers.’
‘No worries.’
I took a long, slow drag.
‘So, what do you reckon?’ Tobe asked.
‘It’s good,’ I managed to say before I broke down coughing.
‘But maybe a little harsh?’
I passed the joint back and gulped my canteen, my throat raw and hot. ‘Just a little,’ I said with a wheeze.
Tobe smiled around the burning joint, saying nothing. After a while, he passed it back. This time, I had a little more luck. Tobe drummed a beat on the wooden frame of the seat as he waited, the dull gold ring on his left hand clicking loudly, tick-tick-tick. He shifted back and forth, tapping his feet, whistling something complicated and tuneless. You could almost see the manic energy leaking out of him, a far-too-familiar sight.
I passed the joint back, and then Red and Blue appeared as if from nowhere, running across the now empty oval, chasing each other yet again. Still smiling around the burning joint, Tobe called them over and they promptly headed our way.
‘Good boy, good girl.’
They lapped at the water in their bowl and then collapsed in the shade, panting madly. Only moments later, they were curled up side-by-side, eyes closed, still panting. Tobe reached out. With one hand he gave Red a scratch, with the other he passed me the burning joint.
‘I’m glad you made it back for the game,’ I said, taking another long drag. ‘It wouldn’t have been the same.’
‘Cheers, Bill. It’s been bloody ages since I’ve seen us get thumped—I’d be kicking myself if I missed it.’
‘So how’d it go out there?’ I asked, passing the joint back. I had put in a few requests before he left, and was keen to know if he had had any success.
‘I just got back from out south-west,’ he said, shooting me a wicked grin. ‘Had to go see a man about a dog, and got stuck longer than I thought I would.’
‘What happened?’
He looked me in the eye and took a drag on the joint, stretching the moment out. ‘Not much,’ he said, smirking through his signature smile.
In the background, the crowd started to stir as the two teams marched back onto the oval. Once more, the car horn sounded. Red twitched in her sleep, her paws kicking. Blue farted. I barely paid them any attention.
‘Come on, mate,’ I said.
Tobe took another drag. The game started. I ignored it. ‘Well?’
‘All right, all right, all right,’ he said, passing the joint back. ‘The last few days I was there, it rained.’
I was so surprised that I almost dropped the joint. ‘Real rain?’ I asked. ‘Not just a shower of bird piss?’
‘Real rain, you bet.’
‘Rain rain?’
‘Rain rain.’
I actually raised my eyebrows.
‘For a whole night and some of the next morning. Five inches, maybe six.’
This time, I did drop the joint. I picked it back up, leaned forward, looked in Tobe’s face for any sign of bullshit. He smiled brightly, his eyes flashing with excitement.
‘Did you manage to check the books? We haven’t seen something like that in…’ I thought hard and gave up. I couldn’t remember ever seeing rain like that.
‘It’s been forty-odd years. I looked it up and I still don’t believe it.’
‘Any idea where it was coming from?’
‘I had it at my back all the way home.’
I looked at him again. We had been mates so long that neither of us could get away with lying to the other.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’
TWO
The remainder of the game was nothing but a vague haze. Tobe roared and cheered with the crowd, but I barely noticed him—I was lost in a fool’s dream, rolling fields of the greenest grass passing by my mind’s eye. Lush and brilliant, they were a colour that no longer existed, faded pictures and crumbling photographs the only proof that it had ever existed.
I let preposterous hopes lull me into a waking sleep. I could almost hear the whisper of rain.
The blaring horn that signalled the end of the game didn’t rouse me—I watched blankly as a couple of First Country folk wandered onto the field and helped the players clean their cuts and scrapes, washing them down with tea-tree oil. People mingled, shook hands, slapped each other on the back. At some point I realised that the oval was empty and that the crowd had disappeared.
‘Bill, mate, are you all right?’
I flinched, surprised by Tobe’s voice.
‘It’s just that, ah, you haven’t said anything in a while.’
I slowly looked around and caught his eye. He was genuinely concerned, and I couldn’t help but smile.
‘It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ I said, finally finding my voice.
‘Better get to the pub then, a few drinks will fix that.’
I struggled to wrench myself out of my seat, made it to my feet, picked up my pack, slung it on my back. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
‘You’re a funny bastard, Bill. You know that?’
I shrugged.
‘Fair enough,’ Tobe said. ‘So, I guess you want a ride…’
I scratched my chin, pretending to think about it. ‘That’d be great.’
‘No worries.’ Tobe nudged Blue with his toe. Both dogs woke suddenly and looked at Tobe pitifully. ‘Come on.’
They didn’t move.
‘What are you waiting for? Bloody Christmas? Come on!’
They begrudgingly bounded up, stretching themselves flat and yawning wide. Tobe turned away. The dogs and I followed him around the empty oval that was already mourning the disappearance of the life it had so briefly felt.
It took no time at all to make it to Tobe’s ridiculous bike.
I gingerly lowered myself onto the cracked wooden bench seat, and he shoved his strongbox at me. A rasping, dirty wind was picking up. I pulled my glasses off, tucking them in a pocket.
‘Comfy?’ Tobe asked.
‘Very fucking funny.’
‘Right then, away we go…’
The bike shuddered as Tobe pushed hard to get us moving. Inch by painful inch, we picked up speed. Red and Blue ran ahead; they knew that traffic wasn’t really a problem. Dust and grit constantly flew into my face. I kept my mouth shut, clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering, closed my eyes, hoped that it would be all over soon.
By the time Tobe brought us to a halt, the dust on my face was so thick that it fell in drifts from my beard.
I brushed away as much dust as I could, and then awkwardly hopped off the bench seat. The pub loomed over us, an ancient, red-brick building with a wide wooden veranda. It had never looked so inviting—I heard the low hum of happy conversation and laughter, the clink of bottles, the clang of tin cups being knocked together. From the direction of the beer garden came the howl of a homemade guitar, the smash-bang of a drum kit made from scrap. A couple of other dogs lay under the veranda; Tobe made sure that the old horse trough on the footpath had a dribble or two in the bottom, and then ordered Red and Blue to join them.
They begrudgingly did as he said. None of the other dogs stirred—it was too hot for trouble.
‘After you,’ Tobe said, waving me forward. ‘Age before beauty.’
I smiled to myself as I hurried through the doors. Dirty air washed over me, heavy with the smell of booze and wood smoke and sweat, thick with a combination of bush tobacco, wild weed, and meat roasting on a spit. Excited and boisterous voices fought against the music bleeding in from outside. The First Country team sat with the townsfolk team at the biggest table, reliving the game without having to suffer the arrogance or embarrassment they must have felt out on the field.
Everyone looked happy.
‘Mate, shit, I forgot my strongbox. I’ll be back in a tick,’ Tobe said abruptly.