Chapter 44

Fried Custard Bread (excellent)

Ten thick slices bread, fruit bread or damper, 3 large eggs, 4fl oz cream or buttermilk, 4oz sugar, ½tsp cinnamon or powdered neverbreak* leaves or 3tsp grated orange or lemon rind, handful currants or wild cherries, a knob of butter

Mix all except butter and bread. Heat a frying pan; when hot throw in 1tbsp butter.

Quickly dip the bread in the mix then fry in butter till brown on one side; flip over and brown on the other. Add more butter as needed. Repeat till all done.

*Backhousia myrtifolia

Author’s suggestion: add 1tsp vanilla. Panettone is excellent instead of bread.

CHARTERS TOWERS, 1886

CLANCY

There was bread for breakfast, as he expected: yesterday’s, dipped in something creamy and fried, and one of the best things he had ever eaten.

‘Butter and cream don’t keep in this heat, nor eggs,’ explained Mrs McKenzie, handing him a second helping. Tiger turned up as they were drinking their third mugs of tea, looking vaguely green. He shook his head quickly at the offer of fried bread and turned away from the sight of it, but accepted a mug of black tea, well sugared. He sipped it with the look of a man who half hoped the buzzards might fly off with his head, at least till he recovered from his bender.

Clancy put his mug down. He looked once again at Rose. This time she smiled at him deeply and openly.

He knew what he must do.

‘Thinking I might take a ship south from Townsville,’ he said. ‘Got a hankering to see my sister, maybe. You won’t need me on the journey south.’

McKenzie just looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. He didn’t ask if they’d meet up again for the next drive north. Mrs McKenzie gazed at him with what might be disappointment, or even pity. Rose froze. But she too said nothing, her face expressionless, though her mug of tea grew cold as she sat there, staring at the glowing coals, and he began to pack his swag. Tiger was still too hungover to care.

Clancy kissed Rose’s cheek when he said goodbye, just as he did Mrs McKenzie’s, and in the same style too. Rose smelled of wood smoke, Sunlight soap and the scent that was hers alone. He would never forget it, nor the look in her eyes. But she still said nothing, had said nothing since his announcement.

He half hoped she might follow him, that he might hear her galloping behind as Big Red plodded along the track to town. He kept listening for hoofbeats. They didn’t come. He didn’t know whether he cried during the days and nights it took to get to Townsville. He only knew she wasn’t there.