Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

It was now ten minutes to nine, and on to the veranda through the sitting-room stepped a white-faced man whose eyes were startlingly blue and whose jet-black hair was lowered over his high forehead in what is known in England as a quiff. He was rotund, youthful, well under forty years of age. His trousers and open waistcoat were of dark tweed, his dress-shirt was without collar and tie, and on his feet were tan leather slippers. When he spoke London sprang out of his mouth.

“Mornin”, ma’am!”

“Good morning, James.”

Mrs. Nelson turned slightly in herchair, the better to examine her barman, and James hastily buttoned his waistcoat, then gently flapping in the wind, and endeavoured to hide hisslippered feet under the table. James Spinks had been Mrs. Nelson’s barman for eight years, and he was, therefore, conversant with Mrs. Nelson’s passion for-among other things-sartorial neatness.

“Is the mail on time this morning, James?” he was sternly asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Five passengers. All men. All passengers going through to Allambee.”

“Of course everything is ready for them?”

“Too right, ma’am.”

“Any trouble last night from Constable Lee?”

“No. No trouble at all, ma’am. Live and let live is Constable Lee. Heain’t severe-like on dance nights and Christmas Eve.”

“Mr. Borradale-did he call in?”

“Yes, ma’am. He and the doctor slipped in just afore the dance started and then again about midnight.”

“Very well, James. After the coach has gone on, ask Fred Storrie to come up for a minute. That will be all.”

James accepted his dismissal with a vigorous nod, which made it apparent that the quiff was too heavily greased to come unstuck from his forehead, and he having vanished, as people always seemed to do when Mrs. Nelson had finished with them, that lady proceeded with her breakfast and her watching study of Nogga Creek.

For so many years had she seen, first Cobb and Co.’s coaches, and then the motor mail-cars appear and disappear at Nogga Creek that she knew exactly where the track disappeared among the bordering trees before crossing it. Visibility this morning was exceptionally bad and momentarily becoming worse, and her eyesight now was less good than formerly. Nevertheless, her interest was abruptly aroused by tiny flashes of reflected light at the place where the mail-car was due to appear.

With the agility of a much younger woman, Mrs. Nelson rose and passed into her sitting-room. On coming out again she was carrying a pair of expensive binoculars, and when she levelled them at the reflected lights the blue-veined, china-like hands were trembling.

The glasses permitted her to see the modern motor mail-car halted at the top of the nearer creek-bank. She could not perceive anyone in the car, nor could she see anyone standing beside it who could account for its unusual halt at that place.

It was a circumstance at once arousing the curiosity of a woman habitually in possession of all knowledge connected with Carie and with the mail-cars that passed through Carie. Curiosity so controlled Mrs. Nelson that she experienced no little difficulty in keeping the glasses directed at the motionless car.

At least one minute passed before she saw figures emerge from the box-trees beside the track. They moved together in a bunch to the side of the car, and Mrs. Nelson fancied she saw once a flash of light blue. Then, whilst she continued to watch, the men climbed into the car and it began to move towards the town.

That the halt had not been occasioned by a mechanical breakdown Mrs. Nelson was convinced. Something of an unusual nature had caused the driver to walk right off the track and in among the trees bordering the creek. When she lowered the glasses to the veranda rail her hands were still violently trembling. Her face was almost as white as her hair.

Again seated, she watched the oncoming mail-car seeming to swerve alternately eastward and then westward as it followed the winding track, its wheels and mudguards hidden from her by the low bluebush. A huge volume of dust rose behind the vehicle, to be rushed eastward in a long slant by the wind. Oddly enough, that dust reminded Mrs. Nelson this morning of the old oleograph in the bar parlour showing H.M.S. Majestic ploughing an angry Atlantic as great billows of black smoke poured from her two funnels set abreast.

An old man came forth from one of the houses to stand and peer along the track. The uniformed policeman emerged from the police station calmly to survey the township. The usual stray cow and two goats wandered into the single street. And then, beating the sound of thewind, came the rising hum of the mail-car.

As had the drivers of Cobb and Co.’s coaches, so did the youths driving these mail-cars always when arriving from Broken Hill pass the hotel to make first stop at the post office. Having dropped the mail, they then drove back to the hotel, where passengers and driver ate breakfast, and where, in the old days, the horses had been changed.

To the grave perturbation of Mrs. Nelson and to the astonishment of Mr. Smith, Constable Lee and “Grandfer” Littlejohn, this morning’s mail-car passed the post office to stop outside Dr. Mulray’s house.

Old Grandfer very nearly fell down as he hobbled across the street to reach the mail-car. The baker, the storekeeper, the policeman and half a dozen women, who had seemingly evolved from space, rushed to the house side of the mail-car; while, once more on her feet, glasses glued to her eyes, Mrs. Nelson danced like awilly wagtail. The passengers she saw emerge from the car, and the little crowd appeared to be strangely stilled. Then the robust figure of Dr. Mulray appeared, when there was suddenly much loud talking. The wind permitted Mrs. Nelson to hear not a word.

One of the passengers then pressed to the side of the car and there slid into his arms a crumpled figure in a blue dress. He was a big man, and he carried with ease the limp body into the doctor’s house, immediately followed by Dr. Mulray himself.

Mrs. Nelson lowered the glasses. She was repeating over and over: “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”

She saw Fred Storrie come racing to the hotel corner in answer to James’s shout. He ran on to the doctor’s house, and the male portion of the crowd stared after him when he rushed inside.

And then the first of a long succession of sand waves rolled over the township, blotting out Nogga Creek and the Common, smearing into semi-obscurity the bakery on the far side of the street. Mrs. Nelson almost collapsed into her chair. She went on repeating softly as though stunned:

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”

The Wind

“MARTIN, AREN’T YOU well this morning?”

The strong but well-modulated voice penetrated the consciousness of the young man lying on the bed. About him, washing against him, and against the bed, were the strange and yet familiar vibrations set up by the gale of wind sweeping over and about the stout Wirragatta homestead.

Martin Borradale stirred, opened his grey eyes, moved wide his arms. The light from the tall closedfrench windows was of tinted yellow. It cast the girl’s face in shadow, which was yet no shadow, and itlaid a shade of drabness over the interior of the room which normally was very pleasant. Round of head, her dressing-gown-encased body long and beautifully curved and set firmly on small feet, Stella Borradale regarded her brother from the foot of the bed.

“Hullo, old thing! Phew! I feel deadly,” replied Martin. “I’ve got a headache and lots of other aches as well. I might have been playing football half the night instead of dancing.”

Stella’s next question was without trace of irritation.

“How much did you drink in Carie?”