Chapter 6

The four of them were sat on the veranda looking out over the evening landscape; to witness what the sunset might have in store.

Recently it had become something they did, when weather and work permitted. They exchanged the days activities and gossip and speculated on what could be done to solve problems and whatever.

Laura and Lewis occupied the sofa while Olandar and her son sat in armchairs. They were drinking Ginger Squares, a cocktail that Laura claimed she’d invented and made up in a large jug which was now placed on the table.

Lewis had been delighted to find that Obitty not only enjoyed the same kind of jazz as himself, but also had a nice collection from which he would gently play the likes of Brubeck, Monk and Mingus when they were on the veranda.

Lewis mused on the fact that he’d had to travel this far to be in the company of a man who not only shared his taste in Jazz but could have a stimulating exchange of ideas without an argument.

Although Olandar still held a candle for her dead husband she could not deny to herself that she had found Lewis attractive from the start. Her prank with early morning tea had not amused the pair though and she’d been scolded for it.

After the sky had crimsoned then blackened, they went in for the dinner Olandar had cooked. She was a clever cook who was always able to delight the appetite.

They were on the desert when they heard the commotion from outside, and something in its tone told Obitty it wasn’t simply an evening brawl that occasionally occurred.

He excused himself from the table and went to investigate.

The others too went out onto the veranda, curious at the event, and they heard Obitty giving instructions to some of the men down there.

When Obitty eventually returned, he looked worried and stressed.

“So what was all that fuss over Obitty?” asked Lewis.

Obitty took his boss aside,

“One of the miners from the dormitory block was holding a naked girl in his arms; she was bleeding badly!”

“Bleeding? ... why? ... Who was she; where did she come from?”

“Some nights, the men, they get girls delivered. She was one of those, and only young.”

“What? You mean prostitutes? Who brings them here?”

“There not really prostitutes, just young girls brought here by traders. The miner who chose her, he was a big man; too big for her; she got torn up inside. It was already too late to save her.”

“Obitty, ... You mean?”

“Yes boss; she was fucked to death I’m afraid.”

“My God Obitty! What should we do now!”

“There’s a deep pit in the mine ... It’s where we’ve put the others boss.”