‘Ouch. Remind me never to annoy you.’ He smiled then, a little lopsided movement that coaxed an unwilling laugh from her before he pressed again. ‘Seriously, you’re sure about that?’

‘Yes.’ Tilly was adamant. ‘Whatever Gerry’s done, he’s still my husband.’ She brushed the wood shavings littering the table into a heap and for the first time noticed the little carving in their midst. ‘Oh, that’s clever!’ Picking it up, she saw that it was a shaky-paw lizard no longer than her forefinger, its tiny head held sideways and right foot raised in its signature wave. ‘It’s beautiful, Connor. So lifelike. You’re very clever.’ The wood was as smooth as oil to touch, the eyes and mouth of the little reptile exquisitely carved.

‘You have it,’ he said. ‘For me the pleasure’s in the making.’

‘Oh thanks, but I couldn’t.’ She replaced it, swept the shavings into the empty mug and returned indoors.

In Tilly’s preoccupied state, the rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a flash, and long before she had decided whether or not to confide in Sophie, the head ranger’s vehicle was chugging up the track. Having already told Connor about the letter, something she now regretted, it seemed somehow disloyal to keep the news from her cousin, especially if there was any question of Gerry’s still being around. Except, she now realised, that he must have left the property in order to post the letter. Unless he had an accomplice? The word reminded her again of the police. Ordinary people had friends, mates, acquaintances to help them – only criminals had accomplices.

‘Oh, I don’t know!’ In her frustration Tilly had spoken aloud. She snatched a quick look about the empty kitchen as if fearing to be overheard before carrying on mixing the joeys’ formula. Should she just forget the whole thing? Yeah, some chance, she mocked herself. Then the noise of the returning vehicle broke across the bugling call of a trio of brolgas passing overhead and the decision was upon her. If she was going to do it, then it would have to be at once, before Matt knocked off, while they had the house to themselves.

The vehicle’s motor echoed briefly off the shed walls, then died. Sophie entered the kitchen carrying her empty lunch box and thermos, which she dumped on the sink. ‘Hi, Till. How’s things? You wouldn’t believe how full the camp is! Do you think you could give me a hand with the slide show tonight? I’ve had that many enquiries about it today, and with Luke AWOL . . .’