She changed quickly into a low-cut silk dress as she would have worn for a family meal at the Abbey, then waited for Clancy to do up the buttons. She smiled to herself, for he did not kiss her, which he might have attempted if the child had not been there, then walked into the excuse for a dining room, silk swishing about her ankles.

Shoulder of kangaroo tonight, but made palatable with lemon and herb stuffing, yet another of Maria’s receipts cut from the Ladies’ Own Companion. It was served, inevitably, with roast potatoes, roast pumpkin, even the carrots roasted too, with the gravy congealing at the edge of the boiled cabbage. Maria it seemed had not had time to make a soup tonight, or a fish course. Flora had just eaten half the meat, the stuffing, a mouthful of potato and one of cabbage — all that she could stand — when a shot rang out down from the house.

The men stood, napkins falling and chairs teetering with the suddenness of their movements. ‘Stay here,’ Clancy ordered the women as he and Ezekiel headed to the front door. But they soon returned and settled back in their places.

‘What was it?’ demanded Maria.

‘A man, looking for the girl,’ he said shortly.

‘How do you know? He might have been after the corn . . .’

Clancy hesitated. ‘John O’Hara speaks some of the native lingo.’

‘And how does he know how to do that, I wonder?’ demanded Ezekiel Clancy.

Clancy took a mouthful of his now-cold meat, swallowed, then answered. ‘O’Hara took up with a native woman. But that was long ago,’ he added to his father.

‘Ha! A man does something like that once, he’ll do it again. But not if he wants to keep his job here.’ Ezekiel chewed another mouthful of meat. ‘Time we had another round-up, if the natives are camping this way again. I’ll take Flanagan and Taylor out tomorrow. O’Hara can see to anything that needs doing here, and Rogers can watch the channels.’

Flora said nothing. What was a round-up? Had the shot been to scare the man? Or had they wounded him? Or . . .

She did not ask. Would not ask. Surely they were rounding them up to take them to one of the missions, but, still, it was best not to ask. Some things should be left to men. But when, in the cold night, she heard the child crying on her mattress, she slipped from her bed and held her gently, comforting her, till at last the child clung to her and sobbed as Flora stroked her hair.

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

How to dry figs for the table

Pick perfect figs; thread onto a string.

Dip into boiling salted water (1¾pt water to 5oz of salt) for one minute. Hang to dry in the sun. Take indoors when dark or damp. In a hot summer, they will be dry in two weeks.

OVERFLOW, 1877

FLORA