Free Mullumbimby by Melissa Lucashenko Page B

Therese’s niece and nephew, Amanda’s stepsister from Tweed, Therese’s next-door neighbour Trinity, and a few strays Jo knew by face but not by name.
    â€˜Happy Birthday, ya old bag,’ Jo said, hugging Therese and giving her the only present she could afford this month, a five-dollar scratchie from the Billinudgel newsagent. ‘That’s from Ellen, too. Now, are you turning sixty or seventy? I couldn’t remember.’
    â€˜Ah. That would be down to my air of timeless oriental wisdom, grasshopper,’ Therese replied, steepling her fingers in front of her and adopting a Fu Manchu expression.
    â€˜You came!’ Twoboy was suddenly there, rising to his feet. ‘I’ve been hanging out to see this gorgeous chick from Billinudgel! How lucky am I? Wanna cold one?’
    Jo accepted a stubby of Heineken. What an Extremely Bad Idea you’ll doubtless turn out to be.
    â€˜I thought it might be too good to be true,’ Twoboy said, his gleaming black eyes hooking her in and holding her spellbound. When he put his hand on her right shoulder and leaned in to kiss her hello on the cheek, an electric thrill rocketed up and down the length of Jo’s body. A faint whiff of marijuana came along with the kiss, perfuming the air between them.
    She looked at the jewel-green glass of the stubby she was holding, and spoke like someone who had full control of their limbs and faculties.
    â€˜Heineken! You win the lotto, didja?’
    â€˜Why not Heineken? You deserve the best. We all do,’ Twoboy said, holding his sculpted arms wide. The straight women around the fire were checking him out, but Twoboy was unfazed by their attention.
    â€˜Is that right?’ Jo grinned.
    â€˜Fucken oath, sis. My family never signed any contract agreeing to live happily in poverty all our born days. While I’m breathing, I’m gonna grab the good life with both hands.’
    â€˜Come and give us a song,’ beseeched Amanda from the fire, but Jo ignored her, and the guitar passed safely to Trinity.
    â€˜Do you always talk such shite at parties?’ Jo asked Twoboy, glad of the yarndi she could smell because it was something she could use to dismiss him. A safety valve for her heart.
    â€˜Talk shit? Me? Never. Well – maybe if I’m really sparked up,’ Twoboy grinned. ‘Or when I’m just about to fall madly in love.’
    â€˜So you’d be pretty sparked up then, eh?’ Jo asked. If the bloke got any more relaxed it looked like he’d subside into a big black puddle of gorgeousness beside the fire.
    â€˜Not at all, Jo,’ he said, much more quietly. ‘Not even close.’
    Jo looked away from this imminent and fascinating danger, down to the waves slapping the beach over and over again. The stars burned magnificently overhead. A few fishermen were trying their luck up the beach closer to New Brighton, but otherwisethe horizon was empty. Jo took herself away from the fire. She meandered to the water’s edge in search of firmer ground, and stood there with her head craned skywards. The huge Njuruyn of the Milky Way lay across the heavens. Jo breathed out deliberately, remembering how long it had taken her to see it: sitting not far from here on the Bruns rockwall with Aunty Barb, peering into the sky night after night, until it finally crashed into her understanding all of a sudden, just before her twelfth birthday. Having seen the Emu once, Jo now saw it every time without difficulty. She realised with a small shock that Ellen was already past the age she had been that night, and a stab of regret pierced her. If only Aunty Barb had still been here to show Ellen, but the old girl was long gone into the Piccabeen cemetery beside Mum and Dad, poor darling, and the job of teaching Ellen was down to her.
    With a jolt, Jo became aware of Twoboy standing in the dark behind her.
    â€˜Deadliest sky, eh?’ Jo said, swivelling on her heel. Come