‘Bigger than a flood event, love. We get entries from all over the country, and the crowd’s grown so much we’re hiring portaloos this year.’
She chuckled. ‘Hiring portaloos. That’s popular all right.’
Ken scratched his cheek with the yellow end of his screwdriver. ‘Now I think about it, portaloo is a pretty great rhyming word. Cockatoo, bark canoe, cock-a-hoop, stockman who …’
Kirsty spun the dial and set it for the hottest wash. Some of her socks had done duty right-side-out then inside-out, and their need for a stink-busting boil was great. Ken was muttering to himself about dunny rolls and rabbit holes and gazing into the distance; she gave him a minute before interrupting.
‘Um … Ken?’
‘Sorry, love. My muse hit me,’ he said. ‘Where were we?’
‘I was thinking about heading into town for a coffee. You think my clothes will be all right here while I’m gone?’
‘Right as rain, love. I’ve some maintenance to do in Unit 4, so I’ll keep an eye out.’
‘Thanks. And … do you mind if I check out later this morning?’
‘Leaving us already, then?’
She smiled. ‘The opposite, actually. The owner of a farm nearby has offered me accommodation in return for some handyman work renovating farmstay cottages. Well, handywoman, in my case.’
Ken narrowed his eyes. ‘Strike me pink. Wouldn’t be a fella by the name of Joey Miles, would it?’
‘You know him?’
‘Love, the Miles family are legend in this town.’
‘Legend in a good way, I hope. So … I don’t need to worry about accepting his offer?’
‘Worry?’ Ken’s smile was huge under his moustache. ‘Abso-bloody-lutely not, love.’
He was hauling his phone out of his pocket as she left, so she collected her keys from her room, and set out to find a coffee. The Clarence Hotel Motel vacancy sign buzzed like a cicada as she passed it, and she hummed a tune of her own as she walked into town.