Chapter 25

I was in my office, thinking. The committees were in semi-limbo: ads had gone off and would be published; notes had been sent to a number of Australian universities; and (I hoped) the various committee members had emailed or spoken to their friends. Mona had taken a week of holiday to visit her daughter. Patrick was progressing. He could now to roll over (from front to back), bear weight on his fat legs, sit with support, hold up his head and chest and support himself on his elbows if he was on his stomach, pull himself up to a sitting position and hold on to a rattle. He made noise, but it didn't sound like people-noise. He hardly cried, only when he was wet or hungry — or both. The phone rang.

"Hollister."

"Gordy, I've got a problem. Actually, we've got a problem."

It was August. We were putting together our itinerary for the weddings. I wanted to fly to Adelaide, but Weena thought we should take the train. Either way, Patrick would be taking his first trip. But this sounded more serious.

"What's the matter, Charlie?"

"Waal. I bin readin' a lot about weather an' climate an' geology."

"Yes?"

"An' I was wond'ring ifn we should sell out."

"What?"

"You got a minnit?"

"For you? Always."

"Okeh. It's gettin' drier here. The Finke ain't had no water in eighteen months — mebbe twenny. Our bores are Okeh, but I know we're suckin' deeper. Coupla feet — near a metre. The cattle are doin' good. The solar panels are no trouble. The new fencin's great. But I got a worry. An' Maddy an' me bin talkin' 'bout sellin' out an' movin' someplace where it mightn't be so harsh."

"Wow!"

"Yeah. So I tol' her I'd call you and see what you thought."

"Well. Well, you know that we're a locus for global warming. The north, the tropics, are getting wetter. The southeast is drier and they've had some fires. So, yes, Australia's in for it. You're OK where you are because you can use solar panels. But we still use too much coal. And it's not going to get better. So, from that point of view, moving would make sense. But could you sell out?"

"We think so. Maggie sent a feller down a month or so ago. He started us thinking. He wants us to be a model arid agriculture site."

"Did he talk about money?"

"Yeah. He thought a million for the two leases, the cattle and what he called 'improvements'."

"A million!"

"Yeah. I thought Maddy'd fall down."

"That's a lot of money."

"Yeah. An' you know, I still got most o' that money that you 'n' Weena got fer me. After all I spent, I still got a bit mor'n $600,000 in the bank. So we figger we could find a nice place an' just not have to work seven days a week."

"Sounds like you've already thought about it."

"Sorta. But we've never bin nowhere, really. Where might we go? What would it be like?"

"Hard to tell. Could you come here for a week? We could talk and drive around a bit."

"Not real soon. We promised around a hundred head next month. Gotta get 'em to the Alice."

"How about end of October? We've got to be in Queensland in the middle of the month."

"Sounds like a good idea. I'll talk to Maddy an' she'll call Weena. Thanks. Thanks a lot. We owe you another."

"You don't owe us anything."

"Right. Thanks agin'."

I looked at the phone for a bit and called Chaz about lunch. He was going crazy: Rachel had discovered "Why?" and had a lot of curiosity. I asked him whether they had any Kipling. "I'm not sure. Kim, I guess."

"I was thinking of the Just-so Stories."

"I'm sure we don't have them. Which one?"

"'The Elephant's Child'."

"Why?"

"Because the baby elephant suffers from 'satiable curtiousity' — and that's how he gets a long nose, by sticking it where he shouldn't. After lunch, let's got to a bookstore and I'll buy a copy for you to read to her."