Wherever he’d been, it was clear he was reliving something so terrible it was sending him to the very edge of sanity. And she didn’t have the words to comfort him, had no experience of dealing with such crippling terror. All she could do was hold him, and pray that the storm would soon be over.

*

Ben had given up trying to keep watch from the tower. Now it was dark it was impossible to see anything through the heavy clouds and the swirling dust.

He’d settled in an easy chair by the two-way, but found he couldn’t relax. The night was too wild, the storm too ferocious to sleep or read – or even make something to eat from his depleted store. At least the weather would keep Danny and Billy at home but, come tomorrow, Ben knew he would have to tell Becky about the camp they’d made in the caves.

The static from the radio was accompanied by the howl of the wind, the deep mutters of thunder and sharp lightning cracks. For once the homesteaders weren’t cluttering up the radio channels with their usual chatter, but that empty crackling hiss was almost as unnerving as the fury raging overhead.

He was contemplating making a cup of tea and a mutton sandwich when something came through the static. The voice was faint, and at first he thought he’d imagined it, but as he tweaked the dials and listened hard, he realised he’d not been mistaken.

‘I hear you, Jake,’ he shouted above the howling wind. ‘What’s the news?’

‘No sign of the twins or their father,’ he replied, his voice sharpening and fading through the static. ‘But the road train’s in, and will be here at least until this storm dies down. I’ve put in your usual order with Annie, but if you want anything else you’ll have to come in.’

‘Thanks, mate. I would appreciate it if you could get up here tomorrow though. Can’t go without sleep much longer.’

‘Too right. Will come up as soon as possible.’

‘How’s Django doing?’

‘Still crook, but on the mend. Should be right by morning.’

They exchanged a few more words and broke the connection, aware that the storm could be causing havoc out in the Never-Never, and someone might be trying to get through.

For want of anything better to do, Ben sauntered into the kitchen area and started to make a pot of tea – he couldn’t face the coffee which was stale and bitter, but he needed something to keep him awake.

He’d just finished making his sandwich when the static was interrupted again. ‘This is Wilga Station calling. You there, Ben?’

He hurried to the radio, his mouth suddenly dry, his pulse picking up a beat. ‘Yes, Dad. What is it?’