The house owned by Anne’s aunt was a timber affair with a tiled roof, painted a smart white. Outside was a Porsche which belonged to Allan. Miles fought down an urge to scratch the paintwork. A little further along was Tomasina’s small hatchback. He parked his own beat-up utility on the far side of Tomasina’s car where he hoped it was less likely to be noticed. It was a warm, cloudless day and there was no shade in street. Miles left the windows down a fraction and throw a towel over the steering wheel, thinking that he should try to find out why the car air conditioner did not work - although he was not sure it had ever worked - before the hot weather started in earnest. He was let in by Anne, in a white T shirt which did wonders for her figure, but behind her was Allen looking smug. In the living room was Tomasina and Jake, who waved the can of beer that was in his hand by way of greeting.
“Oh right, um, Miles,” said Allen, although he must have known the reporter was coming. “I’ve been trying to remember, what paper you’re on again?”
“Koala Bay Bugle. Your aunt’s house is nice, Anne.”
“Thank you. Do you want to see out back?”
Everyone followed Anne and Miles, who felt ridiculous at being thought of as a bushfire expert, to a standard, suburban backyard sloping gently towards the back fence. On one side of the lawn was a ramshackle, wooden garage and on the other a large above ground pool on a level concrete platform, shaded by an awning and skirted by the required child proof fence. Apart from those items all the backyard could boast of was two stunted trees that looked as if they bore apricots, when they bore anything at all, and a large pile of chopped up bushes at the back fence.
“You’ve been busy,” said Miles, pointing at the pile.
“My aunt cleared away some bushes along the back fence before she left.”
“That’s nice, but I wouldn’t leave them there. Better get rid of ‘em somehow.”
“Oh, okay.”
There was a gate in the back fence which Miles opened and walked through into the narrow, grassy strip beyond, kept clear by council regulations. Beyond that strip was bush – a mixture of gum trees and scraggly undergrowth on a gentle slope. Anne’s house was one of a long, straight row that backed onto the bush, most of them with man-high, timber fences as if the owners wanted to shut out the bush hinterland.
The moment Miles walked through the gate a massive Samoid, apparently allowed the run of the bush from the neighbour’s house, started barking furiously at him.
“What about the houses on the other side of the street?” asked Miles, ignoring the dog. He meant to ask whether they also backed onto bush, as he had not thought to look closely at the street directory before he came in. But then he realised he was talking to himself. Anne and the rest were still inside the back yard. Miles had no idea why they had stopped at the gate, but to ask them to come out meant yelling over the dog’s barking.
“Shut it, you!” he growled, pointing his finger at the animal. The dog promptly ran a few meters to just inside what must have been its own back gate in the neighbouring house which stood open. There it turned and started barking again, albeit with less conviction.
“You big wus!” said Miles indignantly.
“I’ve been terrified of that dog,” said Anne peeping out from her back gate. Allen was behind her.
“Do you know its name?”
“Sam, for Samoid.”
“Hey Sam!” The dog stopped barking in surprise. On an impulse, Miles pulled a stick out of the nearby bush, waved it enticingly at the dog then threw it. Sam hesitated then ran and grabbed it. He hesitated again, then ran back to drop it a short distance from the newcomer before retreating back to his own gate.
“He’s alright he just wants to play.”
Miles retrieved the stick and threw it again, and Sam instantly sprinted after it. The others came out onto the cleared strip.
“You back right onto the national park?” the bushfire expert told Anne, while Sam trotted back, holding the stick in his mouth.
“That’s right.”
“And you’re on top of a slope, in a wooden house. That’s interesting.”
“What’s the problem about being on top of a slope.”
“Fires travel real well up hill. It gets up speed.” He went forward and ran his hand through one of the bushes, because he felt he should. He had seen that the undergrowth was dry from the back fence. The Samoid trotted up and dropped the stick at Miles feet. He obligingly picked it up and threw it again. “It was a wet winter so there’s plenty of undergrowth, but now it’s all bone dry. They should have burnt this stuff off in winter.”
They walked back through the gate, Miles pausing to throw the stick for the Sam a final time.
“I just don’t believe it,” said Anne.
“Believe what?”
“That dog playing with you like that. I’ve never even gone out there because of that dog.”
“He’s not much of a watchdog. Just take a stick along next time and he’ll be your friend for life.”
They sat in garden chairs in the shade of the back porch. Out of the sun the day was pleasant. Jake handed him a can of beer.
“Just one and I’ll go,” said Miles, looking meaningfully at his friend.
“We were all going out to dinner,” said Anne, “you should come with us.”
Miles saw Jake roll his eyes at the thought of having to put up with Allen for an evening.
“Prior plans, but thanks.” Actually Miles had little to do but go home and read, play computer games, or watch a film; or maybe he could sulk. There were lots of things he could do. One thing he would not do is be the odd man out in a fivesome.
“Got a date?” asked Tomasina.
“An arrangement,” said Miles.
The Samoid bumped against the gate and made a noise that was somewhere between a howl and a growl.
“No more game now,” the high countryman called, “go home to your owners!”
“Ruff!”
“We should let him in,” said Jake, “he sounds like a lonely guy.”
He walked to the gate and let the Sam in. The dog bounded up to Miles. In his mouth was a short piece of thick rope with knots on both ends, which he dropped in front of the reporter.
“His rope toy,” said Miles, “he’s a smart pup. C’mon boy.” He got up, picked up the toy and held it out to Sam who grabbed the other end in his teeth and tugged. Miles was almost pulled off balance but tugged back, whipping the rope from side to side. The Samoid growled, delightedly.
“Is he – is he, getting angry?” asked Anne.
“Sounds dangerous,” said Allen.
”Nah, he’s just enjoying himself. Sam thinks its a great game.” They all watched Miles play with Sam for a time, then Miles became self conscious. “Here, Jake, you let him in you play with him.”
Jake stood up and took the rope in one hand, still holding his beer in the other. “Strong pup, isn’t he,” he said after a few seconds of tugging.
“Is he what!”
“So what do I do now, about the fire situation I mean?” asked Anne, as they watched Jake and Sam play tug of war, Sam growling enthusiastically.
“You have to prepare the house. Get rid of the garden rubbish against the fence, and clean the gutters of leaves. Your garage being wooden is also unfortunate. Is there much in it? Extra wood, paint, cans of petrol…” Warming to his role as bushfire expert, Miles got up and opened the peeling, wooden side door. Anne followed and, inevitably, Allen. There was little stored in the building, apart from an ancient side board at the far end, on which stood a couple of old tins of paint that might have once contained the paint now flaking away on the side walls. There was also a neat, red BMW sports.
“Wow! Is this yours Allen?” Miles was envious.
“No its mine,” said Anne.
“I’m the Porsche out the front,” said Allen hurriedly, in case anyone would think he belonged to Tomasina’s plebian hatchback.
“You can afford this on your salary?”
“Not really,” said Anne. “It’s sort of a family deal.”
“Oh I see.” He remembered what Allen had said about her family. He glimpsed a neat as a pin interior and resisted the urge to open the door and sit behind the wheel. Anne would probably not have minded but he did not want to appear to be a country bumpkin who had never seen a luxury sports car before. She did not invite him to get in. “Impressive,” he said, and to cover his momentary confusion – realising why Anne might not be interested in a poor and decidedly undistinguished reporter from country Victoria – he glanced in the sideboard and found a pump.
“You have a pump and hoses to take water from your swimming pool.”
“A pump?” said Anne, without enthusiasm, as Miles lifted the piece of machinery onto the bench.
“It’s a good one too; petrol powered. Let‘s see. Tank’s still full. it’s a pull start like the lawn mower.” He showed Anne the handle for the starter cord. Your Aunt has this for a reason. Didn’t she tell you about this?”
“I think she expected to be back by now.”
“A lot of places have these. You connect it to the hoses, drop one end in the pool and start the pump. Its real good for fighting fires, while the water in the pool lasts. Let’s have a try.”
He took the equipment out to the pool, the others trailing behind. Jake and Sam were obliged to break off their tug of war game, but Sam came along thoughtfully bringing his rope toy. At that point, Allen’s mobile phone rang and, excusing himself, he walked around the side of the house to talk. It took Miles a few minutes to assemble all the components and then pull-start the pump, which shot out an impressive spray of water at the back fence. It was efficient and comparatively quiet, but still noisy enough for a suburban back yard. Miles let it spray water over the back fence for a couple of minutes to see what affect the pumping had on the level of the pool and then, to let it run for a little while longer, pointed the hose back to the pool, accidentally splashing Tomasina.
“Sorry!”
“It’s okay.”
“We should have brought bathers,” said Jake, raising his voice to be heard over the pump.
“Didn’t even think of it,” yelled Anne.
“Sam! Dinner!” The call was from next door. Sam picked up his rope toy from where he had momentarily dropped it then dashed off.
“See ya, Sam,” yelled Jake.
A moment later, when Miles switched off the pump, they could hear: “there’s Sammie. There’s my Sammie wam, looking for his dinner wasn’t he.”
“Dog knows where its dinner is,” muttered Miles.
“When the fire comes why don’t I get in here,” said Anne.
“In where?”
“In the pool. Plenty of water. Jump in and shoot water out.”
“Worse thing you could do.”
“Why is that?”
“If a bush fire gets as close as that line of trees, the heat‘ll be intense. It’ll boil the water in that pool like it was a billy on a fire. Everything w’d be so hot, you wouldn’t even know it was boiling until you jumped in.”
“I see.”
“If you must, get someone not so important – maybe Allen - to jump in first.”
Anne giggled. “Then what should I do?”
“Get in the house and wait for the fire to pass over or finish. Bushfires are broad but thin. In theory, if you’re caught out in bush by it you can put a woolen blanket over your head and run through it, but I don’t know if I really want to try it.”
“People die..” said Tomasina.
“The people who die are mostly the ones who panic. When they see a fire they get into their cars and race away so fast they crash and the fire catches up to them. This is the suburban edge so the fire’s likely to stop here, mostly - unless it’s a real fire storm - but it’ll set your house alight. When it comes you go in the house, wait until the fire passes over, leave the house and put the fire out. House saved. Or you can stop it at the fire break line with this. He pointed to the pump. Some people do that.”
“I’d – I’d prefer that,” Anne said, although without much conviction. “I don’t want the house scorched.”
Miles shrugged. “Better get Allen familiar with the pump”.
She looked doubtful but, as Allen came back at that point, said nothing.
Having completed his brief spell as a bushfire expert, Miles tried to slip away quickly but they kept on saying ‘are you sure you won’t stay’ and offering him beer. Pleading a fictious arrangement, he finally managed to get out of the back yard into the house. Anne felt that as hostess she should see him out, Allen following. He tried to shake them off at the door.
“It’s alright I can find my own way from here.”
“No, no, we’ll come out with you.”
“Look, us bushies have a good sense of direction. I’m sure I can find my own car in the street.” The real reason he did not want her to come out was so that she would not see his car. For someone who drove a red BMW, a rusty, battered Ford might prove a shock. He was embarrassed.
“It’s okay,” she said, “this is the city. Its big, its bad, its ugly, and you get drunk and get into fights, remember.”
“Only when I’m with Jake.”
“He gets into fights?” asked Allen dubiously.
“Long story Al.”
“Allen.”
By that time, Miles had lost the argument as they were at the front gate, with his car only just up the road. He let them come with him up the street.
“This is yours?” asked Allen.
“All mine, and like a brother to me.” Miles now had no choice but to put up a jaunty front.
Anne said nothing. In fact she had been told about the ute by Tomasina and had seen it in passing before. Allen, unfortunately, could not let the opportunity pass.
“Are you.. are you, going to be able to get this through inspection.”
“In New South Wales, no way. Could cut away some of the rust I guess. But its registered in Victoria.”
“Oh I see, yes. But you should get it registered here, if you’re living here.”
“Yep, I should do that.”
“Or get something better.”
“Yeah, well, you know the price of Ferraris these days.”
Anne giggled. Allen, nettled, was not about to let the subject drop.
“What happened here,” he said, pointing at a noticeable dent in the right front panel.
“Well, it was me mum. She borrowed the ute and parked too close to a tree at the bowls club one day. Or at least that’s what she told me. There are two trees at the club which don’t have a lot to do with the car park, and they had been celebrating a big win, but difficult to argue with your mum.”
Anne smiled at this story.
“You didn’t claim on insurance?” asked Allen
Jake had said that Allen seemed to be on a different planet to everyone else. Miles could see why.
“Allen, mate, a pro panel beating job would be more than the car is worth. Even the annual insurance premium on a comprehensive policy w’d be worth more than this thing.”
“Right.. yeah.”
“Some mates helped me knock some shape back into it, but maybe the finish is not so smooth. “
“What about this dent,” asked Anne, pointing to the back tail-gate, which was distinctly misshapen.
“My sister. She said she was backing and a tree jumped out behind her.”
Anne laughed. “Quite a family history in this car. Had she been celebrating a win too? How old is your sister?”
“In her case I think it was men. Some guy a couple of farms away she’s been seeing without telling Mum by taking my ute down back lanes. Anyway, I reckon that’s what was going on. I never got to the bottom of it, before I left.”
“When your own engagement ended?” said Anne quickly.
“Yep! See ya!”
As Miles drove off he could see Anne in his rear view mirror standing in the street, looking cool in her white Tee shirt and jeans. He did not see Allen at all.