Summer Down Under (29 page)

“Arthur, Lucrecia. Turn around,” he
instructed the onlookers in jest. Arthur ignored him, but to Sam’s
surprise Lucrecia covered her head with a wing. Daniel made love to
Sam under the beautiful cloud free sky.

“I hope you don’t creep up on me like that
next week,” Sam said as they lay in the grass, the warm sun licking
their satiated bodies. “Or you may get covered in flour, instead of
water.”

“Hmm?” Daniel replied as he drew lazy circles
up her back with his fingers. She loved it when he did that.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

Sam was secretly hoping that some miracle
would rescue her from Hell’s Kitchen, as she had now nicknamed it.
But, she decided that was a world away from where they were right
at that moment and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

She closed her eyes, rested her head on
Daniel’s chest, and let out a very contented sigh. I won’t let you
down, she thought. I’ll make you proud of me, just you wait and
see.

Lucrecia let out a squawk, and Arthur flicked
his tongue out to catch a fly. Sam was in heaven.

Sam was right. God, she hated it when she was
right. Hell’s Kitchen described her new station perfectly. The
shearers had arrived the previous night and made themselves at home
in the cottage. Everything there was up to their liking, so that
was a relief.

This morning, however, was quite another
matter. The kitchen was a scene of complete and utter chaos. There
was what seemed like thousands of eggs shells scattered all over
the place. Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but you get
the idea. Sam had a bowl of scrambled eggs the size of Lake Tahoe
in her arms, and God only knew how she was going to get them all
cooked at the same time.

Daniel had taken on the task of cooking the
bacon and sausages. Sam had to admit he looked like he had it all
under control. She, on the other hand, was about to have a nervous
breakdown and they hadn’t even gotten through the first and easiest
meal of the day yet.

Daniel could see her look of dismay and
walked over to her. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “We’ll get through
this. Now give me that, I’ve found a pot big enough to cook those
in.” He took the bowl of eggs from her and placed it next to the
Aga.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered, hanging her head
in shame. “I’m a complete idiot in the kitchen.” She felt so much
like a fish out of water, it wasn’t funny.

“No worries.” He shot her a smile that
instantly made her feel better.

“Here, let me stir that,” Sam offered. “I can
at least manage to stir eggs, I think. You go and do whatever it is
you were doing.”

Daniel handed her the wooden spoon, and she
took to stirring the eggs until they were the consistency
needed.

“There you go.” Daniel announced once they
had put all the food into the serving dishes and placed them on
warmers in the middle of the dining table. “Piece of cake.”

Sam goggled at him. The kitchen looked like a
war zone. What’s more, it had to be cleaned up before she could
start with lunch.

They were right on time, though. Just as they
placed the last dish of food on the table, the shearers started
filing in.

“Looks good.” said Bruce, the head shearer,
as he took a plate and helped himself to some bacon.

Sam puffed out a sigh of relief as they all
started tucking in. Daniel and Sam joined them at the table. Before
long, the dishes and plates were empty. The shearers sure could eat
a lot. It didn’t take them long to scarf down the entire contents
of the serving dishes. After they had finished eating, they got up,
thanked the reluctant cooks for breakfast and filed out of the
room. Daniel got up to follow as he had to get the sheep in the
pens for them.

“See you at lunchtime,” he whispered in Sam’s
ear, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Remember to breathe.” He turned
and left.

Sam sat for a few moments staring at the
carnage and dropped her head on the table.

“Who knew you could be stuck in a nightmare
that starts as soon as you wake up?” Sam whined to herself. She
looked up at Lucrecia. “Wanna help me wash up?” Lucrecia squawked
and bobbed her head in her usual fashion. “Hop on board, then,” Sam
said extending her arm out for the bird to climb up.

Sam put hands to hips and sucked in a deep,
calming breath. There were only six hours in which to clean up the
mess and make another one, hopefully, producing lunch as the end
result. Sam had already decided to do a stew for dinner. It was the
easiest recipe she could find on the list that Sally had given
them. According to her instructions, Sam could just throw it all in
one pot and leave it. Famous last words.

Washing up was a breeze, compared to cooking,
but with the sheer volume of dishes that had to be cleaned, it took
Sam quite a while. When eventually it was all done she rolled up
her sleeves, put her hands on hips, and looked around the now clean
and shiny kitchen. She admired her handiwork, knowing that within
minutes it was going to look like a war zone again.

“Right, then,” Sam stated to Lucrecia. “Let’s
get started on lunch, shall we.” She wandered back into the dining
room towards Lucrecia’s cage. “Sorry, Hun,” Sam said as she eased
the bird onto her perch, “You can’t help me with this. I don’t
think the lads would be too pleased to have their lunch garnished
with bird poop.” Lucrecia bobbed her head in agreement, and,
obliging, took to her perch.

Sam thought that she would make the lunches
an informal buffet type affair, and basically, the shearers could
like it or lump it. Most of the food for lunch would be already
prepared. They had bought a lot of cold cuts of meat, and several
cold salad type dishes. This would be a breeze, Sam thought as she
wandered into the ‘general store’ to pick out tubs of goodies to
set up on the buffet table.

By this time, she was starting to feel more
confident. She walked back to the kitchen to make a start on the
stew. They had bought the meat already chopped up. It cost a bit
extra, but anything to save them time. If Mr. and Mrs. Miller had
been there they would have butchered their own meat.

She decided, while chopping the vegetables,
that she might even try and be a bit adventurous and make some
dumplings. Her grandma was a wonderful cook and used to make great
dumplings. Maybe, some of her grandma’s cooking prowess was buried
deep inside her, and it just had to be dragged out, kicking and
screaming.

It was getting towards lunchtime. The team
would be heading this way in a little while, but Sam thought there
was enough time to make the dumplings first, so she could pop them
in the stew to cook.

She grabbed a bag of flour, a box of eggs,
and headed over to the worktop to begin creating her masterpiece.
Totally oblivious to the dishtowel that had fallen from where it
should have been secured to her apron, Sam tripped and the eggs
went flying.

“Buggar.” Sam cursed as she ran across the
kitchen floor in a futile attempt to try and catch any of them. It
was too late, some had already smashed onto the floor. As Sam ran
through the slimy mess, her feet slipped out from underneath her,
coming up level with her hips before her whole body plummeted to
earth. In an attempt to break her fall, she threw the bag of flour
away so she could use her hands, but it all happened too quickly…
she landed on her back with a resounding ‘oomph’. All air knocked
from her lungs.

Sam lay on her back in a pool of eggs. A
second later, a thought occurred to her, and she wondered where the
bag of flour had gone. She looked up. “Oh, that’s just great,” she
groaned.

The half empty bag of flour was balancing
precariously on the edge of the worktop. A few seconds passed
before it gave up the fight and came tumbling down towards her.

“No, no, no!” Sam cried, covering her face
with her hands just as the bag landed slap bang in the middle of
her chest, exploding in a cloud of white powder.

Sam groaned, there really wasn’t much else
she could do at that point. The day certainly couldn’t get any
worse. After laying there for a few moments, she decided she
couldn’t really stay on the floor all day. Sam was slowly easing
herself over so that she could get on all fours and pull herself up
when Daniel appeared at the door.

She looked up at him. She could only imagine
the sight that greeted him. Daniel stared in disbelief for a few
seconds, then Sam noticed his lips tighten. He was trying hard not
to laugh. The corners of his mouth were having more trouble,
though, and they started to curve upwards.

“Oh, er, hello,” Sam said as if everything
was completely normal and she made a habit of slithering around on
the flour covered in eggs and flour.

“What on earth happened?” Daniel asked as he
cautiously stepped his way across the floor to come to her aid.

“The eggs and flour decided they didn’t want
to be made into dumplings and waged war on me,” she replied in as
nonchalant a manner as she could muster.

Daniel couldn’t help himself. The laugh
escaped before he could keep it locked safely away.

“It’s not funny,” Sam stated, less than
amused.

“Well, actually, Sam,” he paused. “It really
rather is.” With that he fell about laughing.

Well, that’s just charming. Sam sighed. She
looked at the man standing before her, tears of laughter rolling
down his cheeks then looked down at herself on all fours. She had
to admit, she was a sight for sore eyes.

Still laughing, Daniel leaned over and held
out his hand. Sam glared up at him through her eyelashes, but
grabbed it, anyway. She had no desire to stay on the floor any
longer. It wasn’t easy to hold onto someone with egg all over your
hands, but eventually Daniel managed to pull her up. Once on her
feet, Sam saw the humor in her situation. She rolled her eyes and
joined in with Daniel’s infectious laughter.

He dusted off her hair and took her powdery
face in his hands.

“You really are a disaster, aren’t you?” he
chuckled. “But, God help me Sam, I love you.”

Sam stopped laughing and stared at him.

“You do?”

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t imagine my life
without you. It would be boring never having to wonder what kind of
trouble you are going to get into next.”

Sam doffed him on the arm.

“Thanks. I think.”

“You go and clean up. You can’t look like
that when the shearers get here. They’ll run for the hills if they
see their dinner all over you. I’ll clean up here.”

“You’re a gem,” she told him, planting a
floury kiss to his cheek before quickly exiting the kitchen and
having the chance to get into any more trouble. She walked down the
hall with a huge grin on her face. Daniel loved her.

Sam headed straight for the shower. After a
few moments under the hot spray, she began to feel human again. The
shearer’s voices could be heard echoing down the hall when she got
back to her room. They seemed like they were happy with lunch, so
she released another sigh of relief.

She could do this, she told herself. She just
needed to get a little more organized, that’s all. Showered and
changed, Sam headed to the kitchen to join the team for lunch. They
had nearly finished when she arrived, but they thanked her for
lunch before taking their leave.

“No worries,” Sam told them. “Piece of cake.”
Then she looked over at Daniel and winked. Daniel raised his eyes
to the heavens.

Sam decided after lunch that she had to get
out of the kitchen or she’d probably just boil her head along with
the potatoes. After cleaning up the lunch things, she took one of
the motorbikes and headed to the shearing shed. The stew was
bubbling nicely, and there really wasn’t anything for her to do
until the potatoes had to be put on. She estimated there were a
couple of hours to spare, and she was curious to see how the whole
shearing sheep thing went.

It was good to feel the warm breeze flowing
through her hair as she made her way to the shed. Being in the
kitchen had felt so stifling. Now her freedom had returned and she
was feeling rejuvenated again.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle going on
around the shearing shed as she pulled up. Daniel was in amongst
the wooly mass that surrounded the front of the shed in pens ready
to have their
hair cut
. Sam made her way around to the back
entrance of the building, parked her bike, and wandered in.

One side of the building was a bit like a
warehouse. It was cavernous inside with a tall ceiling. The area
housed a wool press and several divided sections that were filling
up with freshly shorn wool.

One of the men who was loading wool into the
press saw her and stopped what he was doing.

“G’day, Sam,” he said. “Here to see how it
all works?”

“Sure am,” Sam replied with enthusiasm. “I’m
sorry, I don’t know your name,” she added.

“The name’s Jack,” Jack said holding out his
hand. Sam shook it.

The atmosphere in the building was buzzing.
Each member of the team knew exactly what their job was. The
operation seemed to be running like a well-oiled machine.

“Well, over there,” he pointed to a platform
that was about waist height above the floor, “those are the
shearers. When they have finished with a sheep, the fleece gets
collected by one of the graders, like Johnny is doing now. He then
throws it out over the grading table.”

A row of six men were leaning over sheep,
shearing them so quickly their hands were almost a blur. When they
had finished, they pushed the sheep down a chute in front of them,
and then went into the pen behind them to grab another. They did
this one after the other, after the other. They then placed the
shorn fleeces in bundles on the floor to the side of them.