FLOODTIDE

Random House Australia - ISBN 978741666854

The year is 1968, and Mike McAllister has newly arrived in the remote Pilbara region of WA, where life is as tough and uncompromising as the land itself.

The huge upstairs verandah was crowded and noisy as yet more drinkers jostled their way out from the jam-packed bar, protectively nursing their jugs of beer. The verandah's dozens of tables and chairs were occupied and standing room was at a minimum with barely enough space to throw a punch. But before long there'd be punches thrown nonetheless - the Mermaid Hotel was a tough place on a Saturday night.

Despite the crowd the heat was not unpleasant. Beneath the corrugated iron roof, large ceiling fans whirred, and a pleasing breeze drifted in from the sea. It was late July, the middle of the dry season.

Mike and Dan had found a spot in the far corner by the wooden-latticed railings where they'd been drinking steadily for the past hour with a bunch of miners from Hamersley Iron. Mike hadn't met the men before, but then, apart from Dan, Mike didn't really know anyone in Dampier.

Amongst the hard drinking men were several equally hard drinking women, which sometimes spelled trouble - the shortage of available women in Dampier could lead to fierce competition. But tonight the crowd's raucousness was good natured with little evidence of frayed tempers. Everyone seemed bent on having a good time.

Then the Swede arrived.

Her name was Mia. She was very, very blonde, tanned, figure-perfect and extraordinarily good looking - in fact a true Nordic beauty. She and her two companions, a man and a woman, cut a swathe through the crowd, men openly ogling as she crossed from the bar door to Dan and the miners at the far end of the verandah. In passing, one or two greeted the man with her who was carrying two jugs of beer. 'G'day Eric,' they said, but they weren't looking at Eric. Nor were they looking at the other woman, despite the fact that she was bosomy and the sort who would normally attract a good deal of attention. All eyes were on Mia. Even those who'd seen her before and knew she was Eric's wife.

Once she was ensconced with the bunch in the corner, the general focus returned to drinking and camaraderie, but there had been a subtle change in the tone of the evening. The Swede was a distraction, and furtive glances continued to be cast in her direction.

The night grew louder and drunker and rougher, and a fight broke out on the verandah as it inevitably did. A man was sent sprawling over a table and freshly filled beer jugs crashed to the floor, which infuriated the drinkers. Both protagonists were hauled out bodily into the street where the brawl, now involving a half a dozen men, continued. No-one knew what the original fight had been about, presumably a woman, but they didn't care. It was the waste of good beer which was unforgivable.

Aggression and lust went hand in hand, and Mia, the beautiful Swede was no longer merely the object of covert admiration. As men grew drunker, looks stopped being furtive and mutters ceased to be inaudible, she'd become a tantalising object of desire. They all wanted her. The air was palpable with lust, and at one table bets were being mysteriously laid.

Mia herself was aware of the effect she was having, and appeared to be basking in the attention.

Mike could sense the tension. He glanced at Eric, the Swede's husband, a tough looking man, presumably good with his fists, surely there was going to be trouble. But Eric, far from being offended, seemed proud of the effect his wife was having on the men, even pleased that she might be a possible source of disruption. Perhaps he was spoiling for a fight, Mike thought. Perhaps he was just waiting for someone to make a move.

Then a young man pushed his way through the crowd and thrust a folded piece of paper into Mia's hand. He pointed to the table where the bets were being laid, and disappeared without a word.

Mia opened the note and read it. She laughed lightly and looked over at the table where a mixture of Japanese and Australians were seated. All eyes of the men, eleven in number, were on her, and none said a word as they waited for her answer. Several at nearby tables, who were obviously in the know, also waited and watched, and the group gathered about Mia fell silent wondering what was going on.

She lifted an eyebrow, intrigued, and waved the note in the air querying which one had sent it. All interested eyes were now directed to the table where, seated at the far end, a squat man, heavily built for a Japanese, raised his hand.

She smiled and, shook her head, and the table erupted into laughter, the comrades of the Japanese slapping him on the back in commiseration. They'd won the bet.

'What the hell was that all about?' Eric asked.

Mia opened the note. 'One thousand dollars if you will sleep with me,' she read in her attractively broken accent. Then she passed the note around for the others to see.

Mike cast another glance at Eric, surely this was the signal for a fight. But Eric simply looked over at the Japanese, his expression one of curiosity more than anything, and Mike, along with the others automatically looked back at the table.

The Japanese, who hadn't joined in his companions' laughter, once again raised his hand. Two fingers. The bid had gone up.

Once again Mia shook her head, and this time the colleagues of the Japanese didn't laugh. Realising that the game was in deadly earnest, they waited for him to make his next move.

Word had quickly spread from table to table and now every drinker on the verandah was watching the proceedings.

The Japanese slowly held up three fingers. He was the skipper of an iron ore tanker, he made good money and as a single man he had nothing to spend it on. He was wealthy, he could afford it. He sat back and waited for the Swedish beauty's response.

Word had also reached the bar and men left the queues thronging for drinks and came outside to watch.

Mia glanced at her husband. 'Three thousand dollars,' she murmured. The sum was impressive.

Eric muttered something to her under his breath.

Mia smiled across the verandah to the Japanese, and the Japanese smiled back.

Never had there been silence at the Mermaid Pub on a Saturday night, but there wasn't a word uttered as the entire verandah waited.

Mia held up her hand, five fingers splayed, just as Eric had instructed.

The Japanese nodded and rose from the table.

There was a huge round of applause and men parted to make way for him as he crossed to the Swede in the corner. Some slapped him on the back and made lewd remarks, but he paid them no heed.

Tohito was pleased with the outcome of his bid. The purchase had cost him nothing. Each of his companions had bet five hundred dollars that he couldn't buy the girl, wagers which amounted to exactly five thousand. He'd been prepared to go far higher. For a blonde such as this, Tohito would have bid ten thousand.

The Japanese and the Swede left wordlessly arm in arm to the cheers of all, and Eric skolled his beer as if in a toast.