No Job for a Girl Page 3

  ‘Another one of your jobs – dip the water tanks daily to make sure there’s always enough water for camp use. The water truck comes about every four to five days. Potable water is brought all the way from Coober Pedy so it’s bloody expensive stuff.’

  ‘Three minute showers, once a day,’ Leah quoted from her induction.

  ‘Yep, you’ve got it in one.’ He looked uncertain for a second before he said, ‘There can be some argy-bargy about water . . .’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The boss, Alex, well, let’s say his first priority is getting the job done on time and within the budget, and sometimes he loses a little bit of perspective.’

  Leah frowned. ‘How so?’

  Ben scratched his head. ‘Let me put it this way. Try explaining to a crew of tired and filthy construction workers that they can’t have a shower for another day because the water’s been taken and used to make cement, or to wet down the roads.’

  ‘Ah,’ Leah said. ‘I get it.’ The camp manager looked relieved.

  They walked along and Ben pointed out the contractor’s st­orage yards, 200 metres or so from the camp. There was another sea c­ontainer and piles of steel and reinforcing mesh. Leah could see several men working, the occasional flash of a welder.

  ‘They’re making the mesh frames that go in the holes before they pour the cement for the transmission tower pads. They’ll be working nonstop to keep up with Phil Landry’s boys – Ace Civils, that is.’ Ben glanced at her and then continued.

  ‘Each transmission tower is bolted onto four cement pylons sunk into the ground.’

  ‘Sounds similar to how they build the foundations for the wind turbines at the wind farm.’

  ‘I’d imagine it would be very similar. You should get out as soon as you can and have a look at how it’s all done.’

  Ben opened the back door and they tramped through the deserted wet mess. It had the musty, beery smell of bars the world over. The fluoro light in the drinks fridge behind the bar was bright in the otherwise dimly lit space. At one end of the wet mess there was a billiard table, a dartboard and a card table with a chess set laid out on it.

  ‘Wet mess doubles as a community room. The bar itself is open from seven until eleven. It’s closed and locked any other time, but the room’s open twenty-four seven. If you want tea or coffee, to play darts or billiards, or to use the internet or phone home, this is the place you do it.’ Ben pointed to the payphone booths in the corner. ‘All the phones are satellite phones of course, so there’ll always be that few second delay when you’re talking.’

  ‘Phone cards?’

  ‘You can buy them from me at the camp office, or across the bar when it’s open.’ The big man pulled at his beard and shook his head. ‘The bar doesn’t open until seven because if we opened any earlier blokes would come in here straight from the job and hang off it until it closed. If I had my way these camps would be dry. Booze causes nothing but trouble.’

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and Leah trailed after him into the sunshine.

  ‘You’ll get to patch up your fair share of cuts and bruises – the result of drunken brawls. And you’ll have the pleasure of breath-testing them before they go out on the job the next morning.’

  ‘Why aren’t the drunks and troublemakers sacked?’

  ‘Why? Because it’s difficult enough for contract companies to recruit the workforce they need to get the job done out here. It’s bloody hard work, the days are long, and the weather gets fu—’ He stopped, glancing at Leah.

  She laughed, and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Ben, I’ve heard the f-word before. Might have even said it myself on occasion.’

  He grinned. ‘It’ll get damned hot out here in a few months, fifty plus in the middle of the day. Hard to get blokes to work in those conditions. Wouldn’t get them to work at all if they didn’t get a decent shower, a good feed and cold beer or two at the end of the day.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Leah said, knowing full well how hot it could get in the desert in the middle of summer. Hot enough to squeeze the breath right out of you.

  As they walked the short distance to the standalone first-aid room she silently ran through the management of heat stress, reminding herself to re-read the company policy and check there was a heat-stress kit in her vehicle before the weather warmed up.

  ‘Well, this is it. Should have everything you need.’ Ben gestured towards the door.

  Using the key he’d given her, she unlocked the door and preceded him inside. Leah slowly turned 360 degrees, taking it all in. It was about a third the size of an accommodation block, and from what she could see it had been set up like a mini accident and emergency room. An examination bed took pride of place in the middle.

  ‘Why don’t we go get a bite of lunch and you can come back here and go through everything at your leisure? Ruby, the cook, packs the lunch things away after one, and she can get a bit snippy if she has to get it all out again.’

  ‘I’d rather have a look around here first, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  ‘And Alex said he’d see me after lunch.’

  Ben snorted and let himself out the door. ‘I doubt it. Alex’ll be out on the line making sure everyone’s doing their job. You won’t see him until dark. But it’s good having him back. It means the pen-pusher who’s been relieving him is gone, and good riddance too.’

  Leah did another scan of the small room, slower this time, deciding where she’d start. The room felt comfortable, the equipment familiar. She smiled and began with the folders by the satellite phone.

  An hour later, ignoring her grumbling stomach, Leah was on her knees going through the contents of the cupboard under the sink. Through the open window she heard car doors slamming and raised voices. Her head snapped up when someone gave a gut-wrenching wail of pain.

  She scrambled to her feet and in three strides was at the door, only to have the handle ripped out of her grasp as the door was flung open. Alex McKinley and another man Leah recognised from the plane were carrying a younger man between them. The patient’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face ashen, lips gripped in a tight, white line.

  ‘What happ—’

  ‘Slipped and fell off his excavator,’ Alex said, as they awkwardly carried the groaning man in through the door. ‘He fell about two and a half metres.’

  Leah nodded, and wrenched up the backrest on the examination bed. Her attention focused on the blood-soaked denim of the worker’s left lower leg, and the rough splint held in place with duct tape.

  She let out an involuntary gasp when, without warning, they hoisted the injured man onto the bed. He screamed in agony.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she cried, leaping to support the man’s leg with its crude splint. ‘You could have warned us. I would have s­upported his leg.’

  The patient collapsed back onto the bed. He’d gone even greyer, his face contorted with pain.

  ‘What’s your name, mate?’ she said.

  ‘Ryan,’ he whispered, his mouth barely moving.

  ‘I’m Leah. Did you hurt yourself anywhere else, Ryan? Hit your head or anything?’ She pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and dragged the oxygen cylinder closer to the head of the bed.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Ryan rasped. ‘Fuck, it hurts. Can’t you give me something?’

  She slipped an oxygen mask onto his face, muffling his words. ‘Are you allergic to any medications?’

  ‘No,’ he mouthed.

  ‘I’m giving you some oxygen first, Ryan, then I’m going to take your blood pressure and other vital signs. I’ll put a needle into your arm and give you something for the pain, and then I need to look at your leg. We’ll have to get your jeans off, and that boot.’

  Ryan’s head scraped against the pillow in a parody of a nod.

  ‘But first, take this.’ She wrapped his fingers around a Penthrox inhaler, pushed the oxygen mask out of the way and instructed him to take several deep breaths and the
n breathe normally with the device between his lips. ‘It might make you feel a bit woozy but it’ll help with the pain until I get the needle in.’

  ‘What can I do?’ Alex said from the other side of the bed. After Ryan’s bloodcurdling scream when they’d lifted him onto the bed, his suddenly seedy-looking offsider had disappeared.

  She looked up and their eyes met briefly. ‘Gloves,’ she said, hitching a shoulder towards the boxes on the wall above the sink. ‘Shears are in the top drawer. In a minute you can start cutting off the leg of Ryan’s jeans. I need to know what’s going on under there.’ She watched Alex’s face to see him blanch but his expression didn’t change. He nodded, edged around the bed and moments later she heard running water as he washed his hands. Some of her inner tension eased. It was a relief to have a willing and able helper.

  An hour and a half later her patient was still ghostly pale but the morphine had made him more comfortable and he dozed on the examination bed. Leah had dressed and splinted the open lower-leg fracture as best she could, inserted an IV access and, after a conversation with the duty RFDS doctor, she’d given Ryan a loading dose of antibiotics. The Nickel Bluff paramedics were on their way, and the Royal Flying Doctor Service would be in the air to retrieve the patient from the Nickel Bluff airstrip.

  The most harrowing part for them all had been getting Ryan’s steelcapped work boot off so she could check the colour, warmth, and sensation in his foot. On her own she wouldn’t have been able to cut through the tough leather and was grateful for Alex’s strength with the shears.

  ‘You seem to know your way around an emergency,’ Alex said later, as they stood side by side in the car park out the front of the admin office and watched the Nickel Bluff 4WD ambulance d­isappear.

  ‘Yeah, I do.’ The weariness that came after an adrenaline rush started to weigh down on her like a lead apron. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. ‘I’m glad I took the time to check the first-aid room before I did anything else. I’d better go clean up and restock before I discover the paperwork I need to do.’

  Alex gave her the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since they’d met. ‘Welcome to Camp One,’ he said and crunched his way across the car park to the office block. Following a lost-time injury like Ryan’s, as site supervisor he’d have a ream of paperwork to do as well.

  It was after four when, fortified by a strong, sweet mug of black tea and a fistful of biscuits, Leah finally sat down at her desk in the cramped office. Alex’s desk was deserted, and there was no sign of the LandCruiser in the car park.

  On her desk, under the layer of grit and what she presumed were the keys for her vehicle, she found a note from Steve Simons. He apologised for leaving at such short notice, and asked her to call him for a handover.

  Leah checked the time, glanced at Alex’s empty desk and picked up the telephone handset. She’d met Steve once at an in-house training session and she’d liked the affable senior safety advisor.

  When Steve answered, Leah introduced herself and told him about the lost-time injury and recounted the paperwork she’d done, and who she’d notified.

  ‘Alex knows about it? I hope you reported it to him first.’

  ‘Yep. He brought Ryan in. He must have been nearby when it happened. He was amazing. Wasn’t fazed by the blood and broken bones and screaming patient.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘How did you know there was a but?’

  ‘Male intuition?’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, Steve, Alex McKinley was not expecting you to be gone and he was most definitely not expecting a woman as your replacement. He would have packed me off home on the next plane if he could have.’

  Steve chuckled. ‘He can be a bit, ah, intense, our Alex, but as site supervisors go, he’s the best. And he’s always fair.’

  ‘Does he ever lighten up?’

  ‘Mmm . . . nope, never known him to.’

  ‘Any tips?’

  ‘You might share an office but you’ll never see him. He’s always out on the line. He’ll do his paperwork long after you’ve left for the day. The man’s a workaholic – the job demands it.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Leah. ‘I get that.’

  ‘And if you know you’re right about something, don’t back down. Remember, safety comes before expediency, no matter what the boss says. Sometimes his agenda will be a bit different to yours.’

  ‘Yeah, I sort of got that message from Ben Reece. And Alex definitely has a problem with me being a woman.’ She swivelled around in her chair. ‘I suppose he thinks I’ll try to brighten up this workspace with pot plants, lace curtains, some prints for the walls . . .’

  Steve laughed. ‘You’ll be fine, Leah. You know how the company works, you know where to find stuff on the intranet, and you’ve managed a major incident on your first day. Oh, and I worked up some daily task lists for you. They’ll help.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your wife,’ Leah said, and heard his sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Yeah, well, shit happens.’

  ‘It sure does. I hope everything goes okay for her.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks. Now Leah, don’t forget to lock the fuel bowser each night. I locked it every night as close to six as I could, and I’d unlock it at six in the morning, straight after breakfast, on my way to the office. No one should need fuel at night and, believe it or not, there are people who’d pinch it if they could.’

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘It has happened. Not the way to get into Alex’s good books. And another thing, while I think of it. The rigging and construction blokes – there’s been an influx of them lately so keep an eye on their harness and personal protective equipment. They can be cowboys and they’ll try and get away with whatever they can.’

  ‘I will. Thanks for your time, Steve. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.’

  ‘Definitely. Oh yeah, one last thing before you go. The roads. You’re responsible for the signage and you always need to know what condition they’re in. If anything changes, you need to get the appropriate signs out. As the new sections are finished you get any signs up asap. Especially the stretches through sand dunes. There’re a couple of workmen in the Bluff who’ll come out and knock in the dropper stakes for the signs where you want them. Because you can’t be out there twenty-four seven, the best way to keep up with what’s happening is to keep your ears open when you’re in the mess, the bar, at the pre-start meetings in the morning. If there’s a p­roblem, you’ll hear about it.’

  After hanging up, Leah found the daily task lists he’d mentioned and spent the following half hour planning the next day and rummaging around in her desk.

  All that remained of the day was a golden glimmer delineating the horizon from the darkening sky when Leah heard the first vehicles roll into the car park. Doors slammed, and voices and laughter followed. The front door opened and with the tramp of heavy work boots the voices burst inside.

  Alex poked his head through their office door. ‘You up for the daily debrief?’ he asked.

  Leah followed him out into the open-plan area. Steve’s task list had included taking the notes at the daily debrief meeting with the contract supervisors held at the end of each day.

  Alex introduced her to Phil Landry, the supervisor for Ace Civils, and Dee Furniss, his administration assistant. Phil was a tall, thin man with fine, dirty-brown hair, his hands rough and discoloured with ingrained grease, fingers stained with nicotine.

  Dee’s handshake was damp and limp, her expression cool as she looked Leah up and down. Leah decided that under the thick layer of make-up Dee had to be closer to forty than thirty. Dee had squeezed her generously proportioned body into clothes at least a size too small, and Leah pondered the practicality of sculptured nails on a construction site.

  ‘Grab your chair, and a pen and paper. It’s your job to take the notes and type them up and distribute them later,’ Alex said, then disappeared into the contractor’s office behind Phil and Dee.

  ‘Yes,
sir,’ Leah muttered. She was wheeling a chair into the contractor’s office when Ben Reece came in the back door. He was whistling tonelessly, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a folder in the other.

  ‘How are you doing, Leah? Finding your way around all right? Didn’t see you at lunch. Heard you did well with Ryan Greene.’

  ‘Word travels fast.’

  Ben grinned. ‘Nothing like the camp grapevine.’

  ‘I bet. And I am finding what I need, thanks, Ben.’

  He ushered her into the rapidly crowding office, and put the beer on the desk. Phil fell on it like a man in the desert dying of thirst. He passed Dee and Alex a can each before opening his own with a practised flick. Leah wedged her chair up against a desk corner and sat down. When Ben offered her a beer she shook her head. Dee smirked and arched a pencilled eyebrow.

  ‘Sorry we can’t offer you a gin and tonic, darl,’ she drawled and glanced at Phil. Totally focused on the drink in his hand, he ignored her, and Dee’s supercilious smile slipped.

  ‘A beer would put me to sleep, thanks, Dee, and I still have paperwork to do,’ Leah said, casting her eyes down to her notepad to scribble the time and the names of the people present. So, that’s how it was going to be. Leah had looked forward to meeting the other women in the camp, but there was definitely no sisterhood happening here.

  ‘Who are we waiting for? Frank? Tony? I thought Frank was right behind me.’ Phil chugged down the last of his beer and scrunched up the can with one hand before reaching for another.

  Alex, leaning on the edge of a desk, glanced at the time. ‘We’ll give him another couple of minutes. Tony’s at the Bluff. Won’t be back until tomorrow.’

  ‘Who’s Tony?’ Leah tapped her pen on the notepad.

  ‘Tony Minelli, rigging and construction supervisor.’

  Leah nodded and stood up. ‘Anyone want tea, coffee?’

  They all shook their heads as she squeezed past Ben and went out to the utility area. She’d finished stirring two packets of sugar into her black tea when the front door opened with its usual squeal. Maybe Trev could oil the hinges – she’d ask him tomorrow.