‘Well, I’d love to,’ she said regretfully, eyes turning to the tiny office on the verandah, ‘but I can’t. I have to be here to check in the visitors.’

‘Ah, I forgot about that. Pity. I was looking forward to the company.’

‘You can have it.’ Sophie looked up from the sink where she was sterilising the joeys’ bottles. ‘Go on, Till. You haven’t had a day off since your last trip into Darwin. I’ll be here. No reason I can’t book them in.’

‘Are you sure? Well, thanks, Soph. Oh, wait a minute – what time do you think we’d be back? Because there’s dinner . . .’

Connor considered. ‘Mid arvo-ish. That suit you? We could make it earlier if you wish.’

‘No, no, that’ll be fine. I’ll just make my lunch and grab a hat. Five minutes, no longer.’

‘Take your time.’ He settled his hip against a corner of the range and began leafing through one of Luke’s magazines as she reached for the sandwich makings she had only just put away.

The drive to the coast was neither quick nor smooth going, but Tilly thoroughly enjoyed it. The novelty of a morning free of chores, and the changing scenery as the track led them north from the palm-fringed river country through the paperbark forests to the coastal flood plains, kept her interest piqued. The road was dreadful: they bumped and jerked their way over stony ledges and gutters, through drifts of ashy sand where the paperbark trunks stood like sentinels blocking her vision, to the bone-hard jolting of the bulldust patches where the pale dust rose like fog behind them.

‘Sorry about the road.’ Connor grimaced as the wheels fell into a hole concealed beneath deep bulldust.

‘Heavens, it’s not your fault. You get used to it, anyway. Not that I’ve been on this one before,’ Tilly added truthfully.

‘So you don’t have much opportunity to get away from your base?’

‘Not through the season. And when the tourists stop coming, it’s either too hot or too wet for unnecessary travel. I’ve been out once or twice late in the year with the rangers when a fire’s come in close to the homestead, but that’s at night, and country I’m familiar with.’ Tilly drew in a satisfied breath. ‘This is all different.’

‘You really like the bush then?’

‘I do now. The first time I came out to the fishing camp at McArthur I was petrified. I worried about snakes, of course. And crocs. And the sheer bigness of it all. The land seemed so empty. Well, it is,’ she admitted fair-mindedly, ‘but I came to see that it wasn’t necessarily a threat. I mean, the sky is big, and I suppose a meteorite could fall out of it and kill you, but it’s not like it would be on purpose, is it?’