The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots by Loretta Hill

often than not, it was about Bulldog.
    ‘Heard he’s not taking his R and R,’ he told them towards the end of the week.
    ‘Not taking his R and R,’ Sharon scoffed. ‘The man will go nuts.’
    Lena nodded. ‘The only thing that’s keeping me going is the light at the end of the tunnel. If I didn’t know there was a week off after five, I’d go mad.’
    ‘So would most guys,’ Radar agreed. ‘Bulldog’s a workaholic, or maybe there’s nothing at home to go back to.’
    ‘Hasn’t he got a family?’ Lena enquired, unable to picture them even as she asked it. A wife and kids, brothers and sisters, Christmas at home and Mother’s shepherd’s pie just didn’t seem to fit with Bulldog’s hard-nosed persona.
    Radar lowered his voice as though imparting something he normally wouldn’t give away. ‘He ain’t married. But I think there’s a woman in his life.’
    Despite herself, Lena’s curiosity jack-knifed. ‘He’s dating someone?’
    Radar shrugged. ‘Maybe. He’s always on the phone to someone back in Perth or at least that’s what my sources tell me.’
    Sharon rolled her eyes. ‘Geez, can you imagine it? Dating him, I mean. “I’ll pick you up at eight, dinner’s at nine, sex is at ten. I will review everything in the morning and get back to you about the possibility of a repeat.”’
    Leg sniggered. ‘“But if you’re successful, you’ll get a list of improvement requirements with the go-ahead.”’
    Radar laughed. ‘Ain’t that the truth.’
    ‘Speaking of having a personal life,’ Lena said. ‘What are you guys doing Sunday?’
    Every two weeks Barnes Inc had a Sunday off. Lena’s first experience of this was in three days and she was counting the minutes.
    Leg and Radar shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Come on, guys.’ She scanned their faces for a hint of enthusiasm. ‘What do people do here for fun?’
    ‘Fun?’ Sharon joked. ‘What’s that?’
    Lena persisted. ‘Seriously. Don’t you guys have plans?’
    ‘What do you think this is?’ Leg said. ‘New York City?’
    ‘I have a plan,’ Radar said. ‘Pick me up a carton, a few girlie mags and the newspaper, then sit in the shade under the gum behind the mess for a few hours.’
    ‘More drinking.’ Lena frowned. ‘Aren’t you an alcoholic by now?’
    Radar grunted with greater satisfaction than contrition. ‘I’m working on it.’
    Lena closed her eyes, conjuring her perfect day off – a half-price sale at Georgette’s, followed by a Caesar salad and a skim latte at Dome with Robyn. But she had to work with what she had. Opening her eyes, she looked at Sharon. ‘What do you normally do?’
    Sharon shrugged. ‘Read . . . sleep.’
    ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Lena sat back in her plastic dining chair, arms folded across her chest. Her stubborn streak was digging in its heels again. ‘I refuse to stay in this camp. I’ve got to get out of here. Come on, guys,’ she protested. ‘There’s got to be something we can do to get us away from these bloody dongas. What do the locals get up to?’
    ‘Well,’ Radar said slowly, ‘there’s always fishing. Pilbara’s bloody ripe for it.’
    ‘Hmmm.’ Lena thought it over. Fishing was only a slight step up from drinking. Generally she wasn’t into playing with her food besides being strictly a deadatarian. As in, she only ate stuff that was already dead the first time she saw it. The thought of pulling a slimy wriggling fish from a hook and chopping its head off so that she could cook it gave her the heebie-jeebies.
    ‘Anything else?’ She scanned Radar’s face with faint hope.
    ‘Nup, that’s it.’
    Lena sighed and glanced at Sharon.
    ‘Hey, I’m willing if you can muster up a vehicle.’
    She had no choice. It was this or nothing. ‘Fine.’ Lena blew at her fringe. ‘Let’s go fishing.’
    The safety induction Carl had booked for Lena took most of the following day and bored her senseless. She was furtherdisappointed by the fact that it