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Chapters (68)
  1. Dedication
  2. Clancy of The Overflow
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. Chapter 52
  55. Chapter 53
  56. Chapter 54
  57. Chapter 55
  58. Chapter 56
  59. Chapter 57
  60. Chapter 58
  61. Chapter 59
  62. Chapter 60
  63. Chapter 61
  64. Chapter 62
  65. Chapter 63
  66. Chapter 64
  67. Author’s Note
  68. About the Author

Dragonflies brushed the surface. Two butterflies danced, bright wings of black and white and blue. A bird sang, yes, truly sang, music, not the cawing of the crows. And the trees all around were a proper green, and fat topped, the leaves rounded like tree leaves ought to be, not thin and sickled like the gum trees.

‘It is lovely. Thank you!’ She turned to smile at Rose.

The girl had gone.

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Mrs Ryan’s Apricot Jam

Wash 1lb apricots well, let soak in 3pt* water overnight. Boil the fruit in the water in which it has soaked for 20 minutes. Add 1lb sugar, stir till it dissolves and boil for 30 or 40 minutes, till a little sets on a cool saucer. Stir well. Bottle while hot. Do not remove the stones, as they add flavour to the jam.

*Author’s note: just enough water to cover the fruit.

SYDNEY, 1980

SCARLETT

William had gone.

His clothes, gone from her wardrobe, except a pair of jeans, a shirt and some underpants, the smallest of guarantees that he’d meant what he said: ‘I’ll be back often, I promise. But uni’s not for me, honey.’

She’d sat at the table, still with the remnants of the breakfast he’d put out for her: croissants and cream cheese and his mum’s apricot jam, a pot of coffee. He’d prepared the scene well, William Ryan.

‘But you’re doing okay,’ she’d protested. They had been together — truly together — for only three months. Wasn’t that enough for him to stay? He’d passed every subject, even maths. His marks were getting better all the time as he got used to studying.

‘And I’m bored stiff.’

‘Bored with me?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘Of course not! I love you! But I can’t hack Sydney any more. Not the noise and the sirens at night, and no one saying hello at the stupidmarket. And I’ve finally realised I don’t even want to work in an office, which is what I’d have to do in my prac year, at least.’

‘But what will you do? Go back to the police?’

He frowned. ‘No. That door’s closed to me. I don’t want it either. I never did. It was only to please Dad, and for Mum’s sake after Dad died.’

‘Then what?’ she demanded.