After a while Kevin and Corrie disappeared down the road a way. Homer was lying as close as he dared get to Fi, but she didn’t seem to be taking any notice of him. I talked to Lee a bit, about life in the restaurant. It was interesting. I didn’t realise how hard it was. He said his parents wouldn’t use microwaves or any modern inventions – they still did things in the traditional way – so that meant a lot more work. His father went down to the markets twice a week, leaving at 3.30 in the morning. I didn’t think running a restaurant would suit me, once I heard that.

Eventually, around midafternoon, we got going, picking up Kevin and Corrie down the road a kilometre or so. We lurched our way down at about the same speed as we’d lurched our way up. As we got a better view of the plains we were surprised to see six different fires in the distance, scattered across the countryside. Two looked quite big. It was really too early in the year for major bushfires, but too late for burning off. But that was the only unusual thing we noticed, and none of the fires was remotely close to our places.

At the river there was a majority vote for a swim, so we stopped again for a long time, more than an hour. I was getting quite edgy, but there was nothing I could do to hurry them up. I only swam for five minutes, and Lee didn’t go in at all, so when I came out of the water I sat and talked to him again. After a while I said, ‘I wish they’d get a move on. I’m really keen to get home.’

Lee looked at me and said, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I’m in a funny mood. A bad mood.’

‘Yes, you seem a bit wound up.’

‘Maybe it’s those fires. I can’t figure them out.’

‘But you’ve been uptight most of this hike.’

‘Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. I don’t know why.’

‘It’s strange,’ Lee said slowly, ‘but I feel the same way.’

‘Do you? You don’t show it.’

‘I try not to.’

‘Yes, I believe that.’

‘Maybe it’s guilt,’ I added, after a while. ‘I feel bad about missing the Show. We exhibit there quite a lot. Dad thinks we should support it. It takes ages, grooming stock and getting them in there and brushing and feeding and walking them, and then presenting them. Dad was cool about it, and I did help groom them, but I left him with an awful lot of work.’

‘Do you only take them in there to help keep the Show going?’

‘No ... It’s quite an important show, especially for Charolais. It helps keep your name in front of people, so they realise you’re a serious breeder. You’ve got to be so PR conscious nowadays.’

‘That’s one thing the same about restaurants ... Here they come.’

Sure enough Robyn and Fi, the last two people left in the water, were coming out, dripping and laughing. Fi looked fantastic, flicking her long hair out of her eyes and moving with the grace of a heron. I sneaked a look at Homer. Kevin was talking to him and Homer was trying to act like he was listening, while he stared frantically at Fi out of the corner of his eye. But looking again at Fi, I was sure that she knew. There was something just a bit self-conscious about the way she was walking, and the way she stood there in the cooling sunlight, like a model doing a fashion shoot on a beach. I think she knew, and loved it.

It was about half an hour from the swimming hole to home. I don’t know if I was happy that day – those tense and edgy feelings were getting stronger and stronger – but I do know I’ve never been happy since.

Chapter Six

The dogs were dead. That was my first thought. They didn’t jump around and bark when we drove in, or moan with joy when I ran over to them, like they always had done. They lay beside their little galvanised iron humpies, flies all over them, oblivious to the last warmth of the sun. Their eyes were red and desperate and their snouts were covered with dried froth. I was used to them stretching their chains to their limits – they did that in their manic dancing whenever they saw me coming – but now their chains were stretched and still and there was blood around their necks, where their collars had held. Of the five dogs four were young. They shared a water bucket but somehow they had knocked it over and it lay on its side, dry and empty. I checked them quickly, in horror, one by one: all dead. I ran to Millie, their old mother, whom we’d separated from the young dogs because they irritated her. Her bucket was still standing and held a little water; as I came close to her she suddenly gave a feeble wag of her tail and tried to stand. I was shocked that she was still alive, after I’d made up my mind that she too must be dead.

The rational thing to do would have been to leave her and rush into the house, because I knew that nothing so awful could have happened to the dogs unless something more awful had happened to my parents. But I had already stopped thinking rationally. I slipped Millie’s chain off and the old dog staggered to her feet, then collapsed forward onto her front knees. I decided, brutally, that I couldn’t spend any more time with her. I’d helped her enough. I called to Corrie ‘Do something for the dog’, and started running for the house. Corrie was already moving that way; her mind was working faster than the others, who were still standing around looking shocked, starting to realise that something was wrong but not making the connections that I was making. I was making them too fast, and that was adding to my terror. Corrie hesitated, turned towards the dogs, then called to Kevin, ‘Look after the dogs Kev’. Then she followed me.

In the house nothing was wrong, and that was what was wrong. There was no sign of life at all. Everything was neat and tidy. At that time of day there should have been food spread out on the kitchen table, there should have been dishes in the sink, the TV should have been chattering in the background. But all was silent. Corrie opened the door behind me and came in quietly. ‘Jesus, what’s happened,’ she said, not as a question. The tone of her voice terrified me even more. I just stood there.

‘What’s wrong with the dogs?’ she asked.

‘They’re all dead except Millie, and she’s nearly dead.’

I was looking around for a note, a note to me, but there was nothing.

‘Let’s ring someone,’ she said. ‘Let’s ring my parents.’

‘No. Ring Homer’s parents, they’re nearest. They’ll know.’

She picked up the phone and handed it to me. I turned it to ‘Talk’ and started pressing numbers, then realised that I’d heard no dial tone. I held it closer to my ear. There was nothing. I felt a new kind of fear now; a kind of fear I hadn’t even known about before.

‘There’s nothing,’ I said to Corrie.

‘Oh Jesus,’ she said again. Her eyes got very wide and she started going quite white.

Robyn and Fi came into the kitchen, with the others close behind them.

‘What’s happening?’ they were asking. ‘What’s wrong?’

Kevin came in carrying Millie.

‘Get her some food from the coolroom,’ I said.

‘I’ll go,’ Homer said.

I tried to explain everything, but I got confused trying to do it as quickly as possible, and ended up taking too long. So I stopped, and just said wildly, ‘We’ve got to do something’.

At that moment Homer came in with a bowl of mince and a smell. ‘The power’s off in the coolroom,’ he said. ‘It stinks terrible.’

‘Terribly,’ I said, in absent-minded fear.

He just looked at me.

Robyn went to the TV as Homer and Kevin tried to persuade Millie to eat. We watched Robyn as she switched on the set, but it too was dead. ‘This is weird,’ she said.

‘Did they say they were going away?’ Fi asked.

I didn’t bother to answer.

‘If your grandmother got sick ...’ Corrie said.

‘So they cut off the power?’ I asked sarcastically.

‘Some big electrical problem?’ Kevin suggested. ‘Maybe if the power was off for days they had to move.’