‘There’s Harry and Mickey – they’ll never leave.’

‘Oh, birds.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘They’re not exactly cuddly. I know, you think they’re God’s greatest creation, but I prefer the furry things. So, what next?’

‘We’ll take a run out to the springs. I want to check the track. Seeing Matt’s got the grader halfway there, it might be worth his while to grade into ’em – if it’s dry enough. We’ll head back first, make our lunches, grab a cuppa and go. Maybe the mail’ll be in before we leave.’

Tilly nodded. ‘How’s Jane these days?’

‘She’s good, thanks.’

‘You’re still counting the days to the Wet?’ That was when they took their breaks away, with Binboona’s staff reduced to care-taker mode for the monsoon.

‘Yep, can’t wait.’ He looked so young and hopeful that Tilly felt a momentary ache of anxiety for him. Dreams were so easily crushed. She hoped that Luke’s would last. It was hard for her to view him objectively because he was so like a younger brother, but surely most girls would think him quite a dish, especially with the added allure of being a rugged outdoor type. Though could you really call his beanpole frame rugged?

‘Have you gone into a trance, Tilly?’ he demanded then and she came back to herself with a jolt.

‘Huh? Oh, sorry. Ready if you are, then.’

Sophie was sorting the mail when they returned. She handed two letters to Luke, and Tilly, busy with their lunches while the kettle whistled, saw him tuck them into his breast pocket with a smile. He’d read them later, in private, where he could dream of their author, she thought. The shriek from the stove continued and she leant over to poke him with the handle of the bread knife. ‘Who’s in a trance now? Can you fill the thermoses, Luke?’

It was the first time that Tilly had been in the southern area of the property, and she was amazed at the tangle of old overgrown tracks leading every which way through the ridge country fronting the distant escarpment. She knew some, like the one they followed, were the original station tracks leading to old yards and watering points. Here and there the remains of fences still showed, or the rotted footings of a tank, but the rest of the tracks seemed a mad tangle with no discernable purpose.

‘Mineral exploration,’ Luke said when she asked. ‘The Mines Department had geologists crawling all over the north back in the fifties. They bulldozed their way through the country, and this is what’s left. You can still see their old camps dotted about.’

‘Didn’t the stations object? They owned the land, didn’t they?’