‘Hello, Matilda Rose.’ Clancy lifted her onto his hip.

‘Thank you —’ began Jed.

‘No worries. I want to get some close-ups of the drool dripping down her chin. They’d be really cool.’ Boy and toddler vanished down the hall.

‘Well.’ Nancy dropped her handbag and sat. ‘Wonders will never cease. I didn’t even have to bribe him.’

‘Your son is a darling. Mattie was so worn out yesterday she fell asleep as soon as she’d eaten and didn’t wake till six am when the phone rang.’

‘Scarlett, I suppose. How is she?’

Jed didn’t ask how Nancy knew about Scarlett’s illness — from the McAlpines or William’s mum or even Broccoli Bill, who distributed gossip as well as the world’s best tomatoes, the only vegetable crop to survive the drought except melons and corn, on his vegie round. Gibber’s Creek had the universe’s most efficient gossip system. ‘Relieved it’s only glandular fever. William’s gone up to look after her.’

‘Has he now?’

They grinned conspiratorially.

‘They’d be good for each other,’ said Nancy decisively.

‘Is that what you said about me and Sam?’

‘Yes,’ said Nancy frankly. ‘And what Mum and Dad and Tommy and Matilda thought about me and Michael. Gibber’s Creek doesn’t do arranged marriages. Just nudged ones.’ She looked at Jed with sympathy. ‘Michael and I were apart for four years in World War II, Joseph and Blue for even longer. But things worked out.’

‘You think they will for me and Sam?’

‘Yes.’ Nancy met her eyes. ‘One way or another.’

Which meant that either Sam would recover, which each day seemed less possible; or die, as she’d been gently warned was likely by his doctor father. Unless Sam was moved to a large hospital, kept in isolation, given assisted breathing if necessary, any infection might lead to pneumonia. And one day there would be infection, as his immune system weakened. Death would be laboured, but quick.

But Sam belonged here in Gibber’s Creek, where his parents would visit in the morning, then Blue could babysit while Jed wrote, then Jed and Mattie would come here with Nancy. Sam’s mates still dropped by in the evenings, Tubby and the rest of the fire crew, the Beards from the Whole Australia Factory, and other friends too. Almost every day there was another small bunch of home-grown flowers, or a card a child had drawn for him, and once the specifications for a new solar panel rolled up and left under his arm, as if technology was a charm that might call him back.

Which, knowing Sam, it might be. But if he had not come back for her and Mattie . . . Jed firmly switched her thoughts.

‘Scarlett said Maria might have had a tumour. She wanted to know what age she was when she died.’

‘No idea,’ said Nancy cheerily.

‘But you said you’d tell me the story . . .’

‘Doesn’t mean I know every date in the family.’

‘But do you know if she died old or young?’