A red Toyota towing a dust-shrouded camper trailer pulled up at the house and, while his mate stayed in the cab, the driver got out, introduced himself as Gordon Chant, and asked to speak with the boss.

‘That would be Sophie Barker, the head ranger,’ Tilly said. ‘Hang on and I’ll get her.’

She found her cousin in the office. ‘Somebody asking for you, Soph. Just turned up – I don’t know what he wants.’

Sophie went out to speak to him while Tilly watched unobtrusively through the louvres of the tiny verandah office. Presently her cousin turned back to the verandah steps to yell, ‘You there, Till?’

‘Yes?’ She appeared framed in the doorway.

‘Come and meet Gordon. Looks like we’ll be seeing a bit of him. He builds stuff, and right now he’s heading out to Sandstone to see the layout there and work out a quote for the boardwalk. It seems that the WPA have made a decision on the springs.’

‘They didn’t let you know?’

‘It’ll be in the next mail for sure. The company would want something in writing, for the records. Right, I’m off. I’ll lead them out. Is Luke home?’

‘I haven’t seen him. He was taking a group on the river walk this afternoon.’

‘Okay then.’ She grinned, slamming a fist into her other palm. ‘Hot damn! I never really thought . . .’ She trailed off and bustled away to the shed.

‘What’s happening?’ Elaine looked up from her task as Tilly returned indoors.

‘Looks like we might be getting the Sandstone Springs opened. You remember I wrote you about them? Mmm, something smells good. What are you making?’

‘Honey and cinnamon cake. The honey’s very dark. Is it local stuff?’

‘You could say so. Luke found a sugarbag nest last month. That’s the hive of the native bee. Bit messy to get, but worth the effort.’ Tilly sat at the table watching her mother decant the steaming cake onto a cooling rack. ‘Tell me about Dad. How bad is he really? I mean, is he likely to die? What does the doctor say?’

‘Oh, he’s good for a while yet,’ Elaine said, setting the tin down and going to the kettle. ‘I’ll make us some tea. It won’t be the dementia that kills him, but his blood pressure is very high, and I worry about strokes. He gets very disturbed at times – I never know what sets him off, but it’s risky, Dr Peter says. Though how you can keep somebody calm when you can’t communicate with them, I don’t know.’

Tilly rubbed her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. You’ve had a pretty thankless time of it.’

‘And you haven’t, love? It’s all right. It’s different now, of course. Mostly he’s like an angry stranger, but I manage. I don’t forget what I owe him and that helps.’