When she finally fell silent he closed his eyes and felt the trickle of hot tears course down his face. He’d been the elder brother by only five minutes, but he’d always felt responsible for Max. There had been a vulnerability about him, a dreamy gentleness that Hugh had understood must be protected – although Max had been perfectly capable of standing up to the bullies and getting involved in scraps like any other boy.

And yet, despite their different characters and talents, they’d shared the special bond that only twins could understand. And then they had gone to war – and Max’s gentle soul had been all but destroyed.

Hugh felt his mother’s soft touch as she wiped away his tears, and he knew how hard this must be for her. He groped again for her hand and held tightly to it as he remembered Max the last time he’d seen him.

It had been at his lovely cabin in Warratah Forest on Hugh’s biannual visit there. Max had seemed to be at peace with his world at last – had become almost a part of his beautiful surroundings as he spent his day foraging and painting, repairing and maintaining the cabin, and tending his animals. Hugh had almost envied the tranquillity and freedom his twin had found, but Max’s solitary existence was also a lonely one, and Hugh couldn’t imagine going through life without Jane and his family at his side.

‘No mother should have to bury her son,’ said Gwyneth. ‘It’s in the wrong order of things.’ She gave a deep, trembling sigh. ‘Do you want to see him before the funeral? Say a last goodbye?’

Hugh shook his head, for he preferred to remember his brother alive and glowing with health, his eyes glinting with some wry humour, his long hair drifting over his shoulders as he brought life and colour to a blank canvas. ‘But I want to be at the funeral,’ he said. ‘When is it?’

‘There’s been no sign of Reverend Baker, and so the pastor from Blackall is on his way down. Max isn’t the only one to be laid to rest, and we’re hoping to have the service before the day is over.’

She blew her nose and took a deep breath as if to fortify herself. ‘Big Mac has ordered that his Chinese cook be buried on Carey Downs once the fire’s out – Wi Ling’s son will see to it that it’s done according to Chinese custom. The young Aboriginal boy will be tended to by his people after the sun goes down.’

Hugh was battling to stay awake, and his eyelids fluttered.