The thought forced a wry smile from Tilly. ‘Pointless’ was her cousin’s favourite maxim. Anything deemed so was best ignored in her view, be it unnecessary directives from head office in Adelaide or fretting over the weather. What is, is, Till, and you just have to live with it. You could call it tough love but by whatever name, Tilly couldn’t deny that Sophie’s brisk, can-do attitude had been the lifeline she needed to raise herself from the nadir of despair. And the same woman would soon be wanting breakfast, as would Matt and Luke, the other two members of the ranger station for which Tilly cooked and house-kept here in the isolated wilderness of the north-western Gulf Country.

It was Sophie who had wangled the job for her when her world had collapsed. ‘You need peace and space and somebody to look out for you, Till,’ she had said. ‘That’ll be me. And you need a job. You’ve got to eat, girl. So take it. You’ll get through this, love.’ Her brown, blunt-fingered hand had clasped Tilly’s own. ‘Not in a month or a year, or maybe even two, but someday, I promise, you will be happy again. Losing a child must be like losing part of yourself but things will get better. It’s a long road you’ve embarked on and the only way to get to the end is to just keep moving, one step at a time.’

The dull anger – at life, at fate, at Gerry – that had simmered deep inside Tilly ever since the tragedy had made her snatch her hand away. ‘How would you know? You’ve never had a child to lose.’

Sophie hadn’t taken offence. ‘Because you’re strong, love,’ she had said. ‘You were out here living in a fisherman’s shack with no mod cons – how many town girls would pull that on? You’ll make it, Till. Trust me.’ She had encircled Tilly’s tense shoulders in a brief hug. ‘And I’ll be there every step of the way to help you along.’