‘Further south. Right, that it?’ He laid down the pen and settled his rather grubby felt hat more firmly into place. He had a growth of dark stubble, a prominent nose, muddy brown eyes presently examining the office, and copious body hair, judging by that on his sunburnt arms and the dark mass showing in the open neck of his cotton shirt.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Tilly stepped back from the door and let him precede her to the steps. She cast a last puzzled look at the pair of them as the vehicle pulled away, then returned to her work at the sink. She’d obviously suffered some sort of amnesiac attack if she couldn’t even remember her dead husband’s appearance. It was the same vehicle, the man had admitted it. Which meant . . . what? She was losing her marbles? The passenger had been the very antithesis of Gerry – younger, fairer, totally different.

Drying off her hands, Tilly marched back to the office and checked the book just to be certain, but the registration the man had entered matched none of the other vehicles logged into the camp. It was official then: she must be so stressed that she had begun seeing things. Thank God she hadn’t said anything to the others or they’d be making her a reservation at the nearest funny farm.

Later that afternoon, Matt returned to the homestead with another load of firewood, which he tossed off into the compound behind the shed. Tilly, feeding Harry his dinner, greeted the man as he walked past carrying the chainsaw.

‘Good day, was it? Looks like they’re having a run on the hot water.’

‘The donkey’s workin’ overtime,’ he agreed. ‘There’s some of the buggers want morning showers, some evening ones, and they’re giving the tubs a fair workout too.’

‘Where’s Luke?’

‘Slide night.’ He shrugged. ‘I reckon he’ll stay at the camp. That bird of his is leaving tomorrow.’

‘Oh, poor Luke. What’s she like?’

He grunted. ‘Young. Legs and shorts. More of her on show than not.’

Tilly sighed. ‘Really, Matt! You can do better than that. Is she pretty? Have you talked to her? Where’s she from?’

‘I dunno, never asked. Not as pretty as you,’ he said deliberately, his gaze immediately sliding off hers.

Willing him not to say more, Tilly said lightly, ‘Well, thank you. By the way, that chap Luke chipped about not stopping? It had an effect – he pulled in this morning before leaving and apologised. Signed the book too. A bit late, but still.’ She tossed the last cube of meat, saying, ‘That’s it, my feathered friend. No more till tomorrow.’

Matt stood there watching her leave. She grimaced as she went, feeling his gaze on her all the way back to the steps.

Chapter Ten