The Bay by Di Morrissey Read Free Book Online

why I have a four-wheel drive,’ said Holly in some delight. She’d always laughed at her friends who drove around Sydney in immaculate tank-like four-wheel drives to collect the kids from school and fight for slots in the supermarket carpark. Now she had a legitimate reason to own a practical and reliable vehicle and had bought herself a Forester. Andrew thought it a great car and was impressed that she’d made the decision on her own. As they hit another pothole he was glad they hadn’t driven the BMW.
    â€˜How much further? We’re in the middle of nowhere, for God’s sake, and we’ve been driving for forty-five minutes,’ he muttered.
    â€˜I’m not sure, this is only a tourist guide not a proper map.’ She turned the brochure upside down.
    Andrew sighed. He should have known better than to ask. Holly was hopeless at directions. ‘How the heck are you going to find your way around when I’m not here?’
    â€˜Get lost a few times, I suppose. I feel happier on these back roads than on the freeways and traffic in the city,’ she said cheerfully.
    Again she surprised him. She hated driving, her biggest dream had been to have a chauffeur. Or unlimited taxi dockets. ‘Then why aren’t you driving and leaving me to surf?’
    â€˜Because this sounds fun. And I might need help bargaining over our stuff.’
    â€˜My famed negotiating skills to the rescue, eh?’ Holly was right, he wouldn’t take any nonsense from a couple of down and outs scrounging for other people’s possessions to flog in a market. Druggies probably.
    â€˜There’s the turn-off. See the sign, “Market Today”. Oh, Andrew, look, they must be going there too.’ Holly craned forward as they caught up with a string of vehicles meandering down the twisting road. They followed gaily painted Kombi vans, trucks piled high with all manner of things tied under billowing rugs, and immediately in front of them was a lorry overflowing with pot plants and tubs of trees. From the cabin flew a large green flag but Holly couldn’t make out the writing on it.
    The convoy wound along the gravel road and below them they could see the broad expanse of the football field. Cars ringed the white fence while in the centre the grass was smothered with circles of small camps. Stalls and tents and open-air displays all sat cheek by jowl. At one end was a row of mini caravans with umbrellas and tables and chairs set up outside each one and big illustrated boards advertising food and drinks for sale.
    â€˜It looks like a massive gypsy camp,’ Andrew exclaimed. ‘There must be several hundred sellers there.’
    â€˜Judging by the cars and stream of people going in we’re not too early, either.’
    â€˜How are we going to find your people in all that?’
    â€˜We’ll just have to look at everything. We’ll do it in a sequence.’
    As they got closer Andrew began to study the people walking along the roadside to the main entrance. They all looked like they were going to a fancy dress party. Men wore multi-coloured leggings, tie-dyed shirts, painted T-shirts, Indian-style pants and long flowing shirts. Both men and women wore feathers or decorations, many had dreadlocks and beads or shaved heads like runaway monks. Children skipped along in strange outfits, but it seemed that more than the kids it was the adults who were wearing such magical accessories as crowns and fairy wings.
    â€˜This is a bloody circus. I’m not getting into this. They all look filthy.’
    â€˜They all look happy, like they’re having a good time,’ Holly said. ‘It’s a party.’
    â€˜A hippy dippy madhouse,’ muttered Andrew as he slowed the car to walking pace while people meandered among the cars queuing to get in. ‘Are those people charging money for parking? What the hell, this is outrageous.’
    A girl in a sparkly Indian outfit