‘Mama, come!’ yelled Clementine with such excitement and joy that Flora let herself be guided upwards, over bedrock now, hard and grey but streaked with white and pink and here and there a splodge of green.

Green rock, she thought vaguely. How like this land to have brown paddock and yet green rocks, the natural order of colours upside down.

‘Sit, mistress,’ said Rose gently, guiding her to a tree trunk and shade. Thick shade for once, and a strange tree with fat dark green leaves, not like the gum trees that did not know how to be trees at all. She sat, the rock smooth and cool, the shade dimming the glare that had leached colour from the world. Clementine sat beside her, her legs out like a rag doll’s. She must teach her daughter to sit like a lady.

But not today. Something about the rock, or perhaps it was the shade, seeped into her. Even Clementine looked strangely serene, as if there was no reason to make noise to announce her presence in the world. Flora shut her eyes. She felt Clementine’s small hand in hers, and slowly felt the peace soak through her.

‘This is our picnic, mistress,’ said Rose. ‘It’s good to have a picnic, isn’t it? Enjoyable.’ She spoke the last word tentatively, as if not quite sure of its meaning.

Flora opened her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A picnic is enjoyable.’

She took the johnny cake Rose handed her — flour and fat and sugar boiled in even more fat — in her hand but did not eat it. Next to her Clementine munched hers, her lips greasy, then reached for another one. Flora reached into the pocket that hung from her waist and drew out a handkerchief — stained with muddy wash water, not even ironed — then looked around for moisture to dampen it.

And suddenly she saw.

A pool shimmered a few yards away. A pool with water, clean water, freshened by a trickle winding its way through the smooth strange-coloured rock above. Miraculously, flowers spread across the water. Waterlilies blooming in this dry-hearted land. Beauty, even here. She breathed in deeply and smelled freshness instead of dust.

Clementine had finished her johnny cakes. She tugged at Flora’s hand. ‘Mama, look at the pool! It has flowers on it! Enormous flowers!’ She said the word ‘enormous’ with great pride — she must have only just learned it — then pulled at Flora’s hand till Flora stood, leaving her johnny cake for the ants, then led her over to the edge of the pool.

Flora felt the soft skin of her daughter, the first touch she had truly felt in weeks, and something more. Happiness: that was it. She looked at the water, the clear fresh water.

‘They are dancing in the air!’ breathed Clementine, staring at movement above the pool.