There had been no lawn around the homestead when she had first arrived — even the horse, cow and goat pens were beaten dirt, the animals fed hay or corn cobs. But slowly the hills lost their grass as well. The men left the comfort of their huts to take the stock further out to feed, camping with them each night, with firearms to ward off dingoes. The treetops became even skinnier, casting almost no shade, their few drab olive-green leaves turning pale brown. Ezekiel’s mouth grew thinner, his expression grim.

Only Clementine made him smile, toddling after him, her bottom bulky in a napkin, dressed in frilly smocks and small shoes ordered by catalogue. She had a habit of placing her small hand in Ezekiel’s for him to steady her as she ran five or six paces before falling on her bottom, laughing up at him until he too laughed, throwing her up till she squealed with joy. Flora even found him once cradling the child in one brawny arm, explaining the process of shearing to her and how to best judge a ram — a process not at all suitable for a lady to hear and which, thankfully, Clementine was too young to understand or repeat.

But the experience made Flora even more desperate to remove her child and herself — and Rose — from Overflow. The language the men used, even in her hearing, was appalling. She needed the discipline of a good nanny too: one who would teach her to sit straight in a chair, her body two inches from the back rest; who would enforce the discipline that a young lady — even one who had only reached her first birthday — did not speak to adults until spoken to and should sit with knees together and hands in her lap.

Maria did not even see the need for such teaching; nor, it seemed, did Clancy, and certainly Ezekiel did not either.

Ezekiel seemed happier after that year’s shearing; announced it a ‘good clip’, even if the new animals were far inferior to those lost. It seemed it would take time — even years — to improve the quality to get the price per bale they had achieved before. Even when it failed to rain all summer, except for brief showers that evaporated almost before they hit the ground, he made no objection when a note arrived addressed to Flora from Margaret Drinkwater.

Flora gave the man who delivered it threepence and told him to go around to the kitchen for a meal (both the money and the instruction seemed to startle him). She unsealed the note, read it and then abruptly sat down, suddenly weak with joy.

Respite! Respite from this desperate place at last.

The note asked if Flora would like to spend the winter in Sydney, where the Drinkwaters planned to rent a house. It even made the invitation seem like a favour to Margaret and not a rescue.