‘Go ahead. How are the joeys this morning?’

‘Doing really well.’ Sophie smiled with satisfaction. Hers was a round, weather-beaten face with a dimple in one cheek and hazel eyes, their corners much creased from squinting into strong light. Solidly built and of average height, with grey strands beginning to show in her brown hair, she was capable, self-sufficient and a dedicated conservationist. Over the last two years Tilly had come to love her dearly, and not just for her unstinting support. Her cousin had filled the void left by the absence of Tilly’s mother and her closest friends from whom she’d drifted apart, separated by the length of the continent.

‘That’s good,’ Tilly responded and nodded at the margarine container thawing on the sink. ‘There’s Mickey’s meat. I forgot to get it out of the freezer last night. Just slipped my mind, sorry.’

‘He can wait a bit.’ Sophie finished with the bottles. ‘You realise we’ll never get rid of him now – butcherbirds aren’t stupid. Why hunt their own tucker when it comes free from the humans?’

‘His song’s worth it,’ Tilly protested. Luke had brought home the injured bird some weeks beforehand and he’d settled in well. ‘You think he’ll fly again?’

‘I don’t see why not. The bones have mended. When his feathers regrow he’ll be right. Shall I ring the bell for the boys? I think Matt’s down the river checking the trap. I haven’t seen Luke yet.’

‘Yes, please. I heard him go out earlier.’ Tilly piled the toast onto a plate and pulled the milk jug from the fridge. ‘It’s ready. Will you be wanting lunches today?’

‘Mmm.’ Sophie took a piece of toast to the door and clattered the donger against the steel pipe that served as a dinner bell. ‘The boys will. I’ll be in the office all morning. Mail day tomorrow. You need anything in the tucker line? I’d best order it today if so.’

Tilly sipped her tea, putting down the cup as the screen door opened. ‘Morning, Matt.’ To Sophie she said, ‘I’d better have a tin of yeast.’ Air freight was expensive, so ration orders came by truck from Darwin, but small items could be got out on the weekly mail plane. Tilly tried not to let the place run out of essentials, but yeast was a perishable product that one couldn’t order in large quantities. At Binboona they had their own hens, a plentiful supply of fish, meat from the neighbouring Spadgers Creek Station, and the garden supplied them with most of their vegetable needs. The bush provided a few more: Luke, in particular, was an enthusiastic promoter of bush tucker, some of which Tilly had forcefully rejected, declaring, ‘Anything slimy, muddy or weird from the mangroves is not coming near my stove! You want to cook that, you can build a fire outside.’