“But why was he showing you the form?”

“You weren’t around and he had a question. I think it was the TAFE training form.”

Dan slowed the vehicle at the Watson’s driveway. Paula noticed the haze in the air and at the same time the smell reached her. In the distance she could see trucks among the farm sheds.

“Is it still burning?”

“Smouldering,” Dan said. “Will do for days. There’s no wind. Good in one way but the smoke is just hanging.”

As they got closer, the smoke got thicker and Paula could see several men through the gloom and a fire truck with its lights still flashing. Assorted farm vehicles were dotted all over the yard. She peered at the smouldering mess that had been the Watson’s hay shed. “How awful for them. All that hay must have been worth a lot of money.”

“Not to mention the shed. Once everything’s assessed Ted’s insurance should more than cover it. That was export hay, worth a fortune.”

Dan veered off to the left towards the house.

“I’ll park down here and walk back to see what’s happening at the shed,” he said. “If there’s nothing we can do for now, we’ll go and check the sheep.”

Paula made her way along the path towards the kitchen door. Her stomach churned. She wasn’t sure who would be inside or if they might be trying to get some sleep. As she neared the screen door she could see the inner door was open and the sound of a television reached her.

She peered in. There was a shape huddled at the kitchen table.

“Hello,” she called softly. “Heather?”

The shape turned. “Come in, Paula.” Heather’s voice was very croaky.

Paula stepped into the kitchen and stopped. It looked like a disaster area. Every surface was covered with cups and containers. There were packets of biscuits spilled open and scattered cutlery. Paula had been in Heather’s kitchen during shearing and knew how orderly it had been then.

“Sit down.” Heather pushed back her chair. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

Paula was shocked by Heather’s haggard appearance. She looked pale on a good day but this morning her face was deathly white with dark lines etched under her eyes. She looked exhausted.

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” Paula said. “Let me make you one.”

Heather waved at the cup on the table in front of her. “I don’t think I could drink another cup. I should get the kids ready for school. I’ll have to drive them. They’ve missed the bus.”

Paula poked her head around the lounge-room door where the three young Watson boys were flopped on the couch or floor in front of the television. The youngest was asleep and there was no sign of their big sister, Bridget.