The volunteer fireperson really feels the cold. Even in summer you'll see her wearing a scarf and hooded sweatshirt.
She loves the heavy, chemical feel of her fire-fighting getup, loves wading into a burning building with a sweaty brow.
Her boyfriend is a share-milker; she met him at a call out. He'd placed one of the Murdochs’ hay bales in an oil drum and dowsed it in petrol. The fire was contained, but the Murdochs wanted to press charges.
—I was just trying to keep warm, he explained.
Now he’s talking about starting a crematorium. The thought makes her shiver.