A Town like Alice

for a moment, and then she wanted to laugh. She realized that the men were looking at her curiously. "I sent him a telegram to say that I was coming," she said foolishly. "I suppose he didn't get that."
    "Couldn't have done," said Al Burns slowly. "When did you send it?"
    "About four or five days ago, from Alice Springs,"
    "Oh no, he wouldn't have got that. Jim Lennon might have it, out at Midhurst station."
    "That's dinky-die is it?" the pilot asked. "He's gone to England?"
    "Went about a month ago," the man said. "Jim Lennon said the other night that he'd be back about the end of October."
    The pilot turned to Jean. "What will you do, Miss Paget? Do you want to stay here now? It's not much of a place, you know."
    She bit her lip in thought. "When will you be taking off?" she asked. "You're going back to Cloncurry?"
    "That's right," he replied. "We're going back to Normanton tonight and night-stopping there, and back to the Curry tomorrow morning. I'm going into town now while Al fills her up. Take off in about half an hour."
    Cloncurry was the last place that she wanted to go back to. "I'll have to think about this," she said. "I'll have to stay in Australia, till I've seen Joe Harman. Cairns is a nice place to stay, isn't it?"
    "Oh, Cairns is a bonza town," he said. "Townsville, too. If you've got to wait six or eight weeks you don't want to wait here, Miss Paget."
    "How could I get to Cairns?" she asked.
    "Well," he said. "You could come back with me to Cloncurry and then go by train to Townsville and up to Cairns. I don't quite know how long that would take in the tram-it must be between six and seven hundred miles. Or you could wait here till next Wednesday, today week, and go by the Dakota straight to Cairns in about two and a half hours."
    "How long would the train take, from Cloncurry to Cairns?"
    "Oh, I don't know about that. I don't think they go every day from Townsville to Cairns, but I'm not really sure. I think you'd have to allow three days." He paused. "Of course, the best way would be to fly from Cloncurry to Townsville and then fly up to Cairns."
    "I know." She was getting very sensitive of the cost of flying these vast distances, but the alternative of three days in an outback train in sweltering heat was almost unbearable. "It’ll be much cheaper to stay here and go by the Dakota next week, wouldn't it?"
    The pilot said, "Oh, much. From here to Cairns would cost you ten pounds fifteen shillings. Flying back to Cloncurry and then on to Townsville and Cairns would be about thirty pounds."
    "I suppose the hotel here is quite cheap?"
    "About twelve and six a day, I should think." He turned to the Shell agent, busy with the fuel. "Al, how much does Mrs Connor charge?"
    "Ten and six."
    Jean did a rapid mental calculation; by staying in this place and waiting for the Dakota in a week's time she would save sixteen pounds. "I think I'll stay here," she said. "It's much cheaper than going back with you. I'll stay here and see Jim Lennon and wait for the Dakota next week."
    "You know what it's going to be like, Miss Paget?"
    "Like the Post Office Hotel at Cloncurry?"
    "It's a bit more primitive than that. The whatnot's out in the back yard."
    She laughed. "Will I have to lock myself in my room and take a revolver to bed with me?"
    He was a little shocked. "Oh, you'll find it quite respectable. But, well, you may find it a little primitive, you know."
    "I expect I'll survive."
    By that time another truck had appeared, a lorry with a couple of men in it; they stared at Jean curiously. The pilot took her suitcase and put it in the back; the driver helped her up into the cab beside him. It was a relief to get out of the blazing sunshine into the shade again.
    The driver said, "Staying in Willstown?"
    "I wanted to see Joe Harman, but they say he's away. I'm staying here till next week if Mrs Connor can have me, and going on to Cairns in the Dakota."
    He looked at her curiously. "Joe Harman's gone to England. You're English, aren't you?"
    The truck moved off down the wide tarmac runway. "That's right," she replied.
    He beamed at her. "My mother and my dad, they both came from England. My dad, he was born in Lewisham, that's part of London, I think, and my mother, she came from Hull." He paused. "My name's Small," he said. "Sam Small, like the chap with the musket."
    The truck left the runway and began bumping and swaying over the earth track leading to the town. Dust rose into the cab, the engine roared, and