Free Spinner by Ron Elliott Page A

the half-volley, before it could spin far. For the next ball he stood so far forward, David mixed up where he was going to land it. David took his wicket on the third ball but it didn’t seem to matter. Tanner chuckled, and muttered, ‘Nice nut. Now that was a googly,’ before blasting the next ball, which didn’t spin at all, out over the big tent.
    David looked from where the ball had disappeared to his fingers, which seemed to have lost all feeling. He couldn’t account for why the last ball hadn’t spun at all. This had never happened. The crowd were laughing and jeering. Many had moved to the side, peering round the side of the tent and from behind each other, in fear of injury. A fat man, with white whiskers and a red runny nose, yelled, ‘That one got hit to Perth.’
    Jack Tanner stood over Michael, watching him count sixpences and shillings into piles, as the crowd edged closer. Finally, Michael handed Tanner the can and turned out his pockets.
    â€˜That’s it. Six quid. The lot.’
    â€˜But you still owe me a lot of deliveries.’
    â€˜And I can’t pay you if you hit them, Jack. I’m flat.’
    Jack Tanner turned to the crowd and raised the tin. They cheered.
    â€˜That’s it then,’ said Jack. And it was. A man came from the Northam Show and made them pack up because it was too dangerous. One of the cricket balls had hit a prize melon and smashed it.
    Uncle Mike giggled. ‘I would have liked to have seen that. Must have been pretty hairy down in the main arena with all those cricket balls raining down on the Agrarians of Northam.’
    They worked quietly, putting the coconut shy back together. The one-armed man seemed pretty happy himself because he’d been paid in advance and would get a half a day of coconutting in as well.
    â€˜Could ya spare a broke digger the price of a drink,’ Uncle Mike asked him.
    â€˜You bet big, you lose big, mate.’
    â€˜Yep,’ said Uncle Michael with a smile, ‘but it’s a bigger laugh along the way.’
    As they made their way out through the crowds who were all still enjoying the day, David said, ‘My fingers wouldn’t do what I told them.’
    His uncle walked a few more paces, nodding, before he finally said, ‘Well, that’s a good thing to find out now I guess, rather than in front of the Western Australian team.’

CHAPTER SIX
    Just after dark Uncle Michael returned to the hotel room to tell David they had a ride waiting downstairs. He pushed his own clothes into the cricket bag and grabbed up David’s Gladstone.
    â€˜I’ll just toss them both over the veranda side mate. Much quicker. Meet ya down at the truck. Down the stairs and out the front. Last one there’s a dead Kraut.’ He was already opening the door to the veranda when he prodded David towards the hall door.
    David went down the stairs and out past the rowdy bar to find a truck idling out in the street. A man with a huge beard and only one eye sat next to the wheel. Uncle Mike was already sitting next to him.
    â€˜Come on mate,’ his uncle called. ‘We can’t keep the captain waiting. We got deliveries to make.’
    David climbed into the back amongst lots of sacks and packages. The truck lurched with a crunch of gears as it left Northam. They stopped every now and then at towns and houses along the road and David passed parcels and boxes down for his uncle to put on verandas and in little tin sheds by the road while the captain sat rolling cigarettes in the cab, watching Michael wordlessly.
    The truck finally came off the road and backed into a shedbehind a hotel, near some railway lines. Michael nodded to the driver who nodded back again wordlessly before he went into the hotel.
    Michael came back to where David stood ready to jump down. ‘So how were things back here in steerage eh? Looks warm enough to me.’ His uncle climbed up and arranged some