Nancy shrugged. ‘Clancy hadn’t seen much of the world, remember. Overflow, then school at Parramatta — even at the King’s School many of the boys would have lived in homes as humble as the cottage in Paddington. The only country mansion he’d ever known was Drinkwater, and he probably thought that was pretentious. Overflow was comfortable, by the standards of the day, even slightly luxurious. Servants, carpets. Just nothing a girl from a well-born English family would have expected.’

‘But still . . .’ said Jed.

Nancy smiled. ‘Gran always told me that Flora really thought she was “rescuing” her. She even liked Flora too. I don’t mean she was happy — it was bad, especially in Sydney. Dad could never persuade Gran to go to Sydney even for the Show or when Flinty had a horse running. But Gran said that Flora was genuinely kind.’

‘But chaining her up!’

‘Used to do that to children in orphanages who’d misbehaved even when I was a kiddie. Things were different then. Actually, they were very different even twenty years ago. I wish Gran had lived long enough to get the vote.’

‘So did Flora and Clancy take your Gran back to Sydney with them after the next wool sale?’ asked Jed.

‘No,’ said Nancy flatly. She glanced out the window at the patch of drought-painted sky. ‘Because for the next thirty years or so it forgot to rain.’

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

How to make a quill pen

Cut the tip off a large wing feather with a sharp knife. Bury the quill in very hot sand baked in the oven or under a fire for the count of ten. Scrape off the shrivelled outer membrane with a knife. Clean out the inside membrane with a piece of wire or tough grass stalk. Harden the feather by drying it in a slow oven for ten to thirty minutes. Trim the end of the feather with a sharp knife, splitting the end to make a reservoir of ink so you can write several words before you have to dip the pen again. Wipe well after each use.

OVERFLOW, 1878

CLANCY

Drought had already bitten much of New South Wales and even Victoria. By the time Ezekiel accepted that the sky refused to turn grey, there was nowhere they could afford to agist their stock. Even sending the sheep to market would cost more than the animals would bring, with so little feed along the way and dry creeks.

If the animals were going to die of thirst or starvation, Ezekiel declared, they could do it at Overflow.

Rogers was ‘let go’ and so was Logan. Neither, probably, could get work as stockmen, but Logan’s wife might well find employment in Sydney, for cooks and housekeepers were scarce, and Maria had written her an excellent reference.