Brumby Plains Read Online Free Page A

and looked funny when he heard the name of the station? I reckon he’s a bit suss.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Tess, ‘I thought so too. I mean, he’s kind of nice and funny and everything, but he was asking a lot of questions about the place, especially about the birds …’
    â€˜That’s right!’ Sam looked stunned. ‘He said the right name! George called it a branded fruit dove,and when Charles said it, he used the right name, and then he said he’d never heard of it!’
    Darcy wasn’t convinced. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. Most birds are called a banded something or other. He probably thought George just said it wrong, or maybe he didn’t hear him properly. I reckon he’s an ace guy. And anyone who grows plants for a living would have to be okay.’
    â€˜Yeah, right, Darce,’ said Sam. ‘Those drug growers in South America are really nice blokes. They wouldn’t hurt a fly!’
    Â 
    The next morning was Saturday, Parap markets day, and the cousins were up and out of the house before any adults could hobble them with a change of plans. The markets were already crowded by 8 am, with locals and tourists alike seeking breakfast before the heat of the day pressed too heavily. Sam and George wanted to buy their mother something unusual for Christmas, but first they were hungry.
    George closed his eyes and sniffed loudly, his hands holding on to his stomach. ‘I want whatever that smell is!’
    â€˜Yeah, well, just remember how your bum felt after the last hot curry you had here,’ smirked Darcy dodging his cousin’s punches.
    They sat at a table under big spreading trees and gorged on the market food – Thai curries, Indonesian satays, Laotian or Malaysian or Vietnamese delicacies, washed down with fresh fruit drinks. The stalls filled the little park in the centre of the shopping village, spilling out over the footpaths and onto the roads where cars crept by looking for parking spots. Exotic smells from open-air grills and woks and cooking pots wafted into the humid morning air, mingling with the competing scents of fruit, flowers and incense. People seemed to waft around as well, lulled by the holiday atmosphere into a kind of pleasant daze. No one seemed to be in a hurry. Even the stallholders were relaxed, chatting amiably with everyone and not appearing terribly worried whether they made a sale or not.
    â€˜If you guys have finished stuffing your faces, let’s go and look for Aunty Sarah’s present, because I want to go home for a swim.’ Tess stood up, tossing the remains of her meal into a bin. ‘What do you want to get her?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Something different,’ said Sam, looking at George.
    â€˜Yeah – something new age, alternative, spiritual, off the planet, like the kind of stuff she’s always talking to your mum about,’ George said with a shrug of his shoulders.
    â€˜How about a crystal? There’s a stall that sells them over there.’
    Tess led the way to a little booth displaying pictures of moons and stars, and trays of black velvet covered in coloured stones of different shapes and sizes.
    â€˜You and Tess pick one,’ said George. ‘Darce and I are just going over to say hello to Charles at his stall. Meet us over there, okay?’
    Sam grimaced at George, but turned back to the trays of amethysts. After a few minutes he and Tess selected one which Sam thought his mother would like. They were just turning away from the stall with it in a paper bag when they were bumped heavily by someone going past. The bag flew out of Sam’s hand and bounced off the edge of the concrete kerbing.
    â€˜Hey, watch out!’ Sam cried.
    The person turned and snarled into his face. ‘Watch out yerself, idiot. Why’ncha look where ya goin’!’ A mean, pinched little face belonging to a young man of about twenty sneered at Sam, daring him