She picked up the phone in the hall and sat, spreading the skirts of her favourite ‘housedress’, the one that had been Matilda’s favourite too, a loose art-deco cotton shift splodged with olive green, orange and cream, only slightly faded. The past lived as she wrote her books. It seemed right that she should wear the past as she wrote too. ‘Hello.’

‘Jed, it’s me.’

‘Hello, me. You sound happy.’ Or excited, thought Jed. Had William finally proposed?

‘I am. I think. How is everyone?’

‘All good. Clancy and Tom sold their poddy calf for a thousand dollars. Prices are through the roof now the drought is over and everyone’s restocking. Clancy bought a new camera, some special kind, and then took Mattie to have a raspberry spider at the Blue Belle. Extra ice cream.’ Jed laughed and shook her head. ‘Tom rang his Uncle Jim and bought five hundred dollars’ worth of shares.’

‘Surely Tom doesn’t want to be a sharebroker!’ said Scarlett, as one might say, ‘He doesn’t want to eat venomous spiders!’

‘No, Tom just said “every farm needs a diversified income”. His great-grandfather would have been proud of him. Are you still coming down this weekend?’ Usually Scarlett phoned later in the week if she was unable to come.

‘Yes. Jed, something’s happened.’

‘Cut the suspense. What?’ Not engaged to William, Jed thought. He and Scarlett hadn’t been with each other for a fortnight. Surely he’d propose in person.

Or had Scarlett and Alex . . . surely not . . .

‘I’ve been offered a three-year combined residency and research fellowship at the University of Edinburgh,’ said Scarlett in a rush. ‘It’s a new scheme — they haven’t done it before.’

‘That’s brilliant! Congratulations. You . . . you are taking it?’

‘Yes. Of course I am, it would be crazy not to. But I also want to take it.’

‘Of course you do,’ said Jed gently.

‘It isn’t that I don’t love you all. But —’

‘It’s all right. Really. I do understand.’ And she did. Jed Kelly had seen a lot — far too much — before she had come to Gibber’s Creek. The one thing her past had given her was the assurance that the person she was now wanted to be here. Her sister deserved the same chance to choose exactly where she wanted to be.

‘I won’t need an allowance now either. And you can sell the flat as well.’

‘But I’m happy to give you the allowance! And maybe you’ll need the flat when you get back.’

‘Whatever I do after this, I still won’t need the flat. Sell it, or rent it out.’

Rent, thought Jed, for that off-farm income, or ‘diversified’, as young Tom would say. ‘Will you accept plane tickets home every Christmas, at least?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Darling, I’m so thrilled for you. Can I tell people or would you rather tell them yourself?’