‘The campground will be over there,’ Luke said, pointing, ‘and the ranger’s quarters further over, and much higher.’ He waved a hand at a rocky rise not far from the section of lower cliff where the Aboriginal paintings were. ‘The plan is to scrape the top off that ridge, level it, and then raise the building higher still on metal posts to maybe a metre above the ground. The paintings haven’t been flooded, so that should make it safe enough.’

‘And will they fix the road in?’ Elaine rubbed her back. ‘Because, honestly, I can’t see too many people willing to suffer over that even for such a beautiful spot as this. And what about the camp site itself? If, as you say, this all goes under water in the monsoon?’

‘There won’t be anything to be damaged,’ Luke said. ‘The ablution blocks will be demountable buildings we can load and remove at season’s end. Then we cap off the septic tanks – they’re underground anyway – and the water flows over the top. Bit of tidying and mowing at the end of the Wet, bring the buildings back and hook ’em up, and we’re in business again.’

‘And the road will be fixed, Mum,’ Tilly said. ‘But even the way it is, it’s worth the trip, don’t you think?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Elaine sighed with pleasure. ‘When I’m back home, I’ll remember today – sitting here listening to the water, with the ferns and moss all around, and the dragonflies like . . . like aerial rubies.’ She smiled a little at her own conceit. ‘It’s wonderful. Balm to the soul.’

‘I’m glad. Do you want to see the caves? The road gets worse from here on, I’m afraid.’

Elaine shook her head. ‘Caves don’t do much for me. And besides, you couldn’t top this. If we could just stop a little longer?’

So they stayed, before driving back to the homestead through the tawny dust of evening. On the way, Tilly spoke of Luke’s bats, as she had come to think of them, and the question hanging over their identity, which they hoped would be settled one way or another by the next mail.

And then Wednesday and leave-taking was upon them. Elaine, determinedly cheerful, hugged them all save Matt who, seeing her coming, proffered a hand and mumbled something with averted eyes. Tilly watched her mother suck in her breath before stepping gamely up into the little plane, and saw her face twist in the anguish of parting as she waved a frantic goodbye through the window.

Sophie had seen it too and put her arm around her cousin. ‘She’ll be fine. When does her flight go tomorrow?’

‘Twelve-thirty.’

‘Gives her time to see a bit of Darwin first, then.’ She hefted the incoming mailbag. ‘Right, back to the treadmill for us all. Whose turn is it in the kitchen today?’