‘Daddy wouldn’t want you to be sad, Danny,’ she urged. ‘He would want us to learn to live without him, to look to the future and make the best of things – not always looking behind us, wishing things were different.’

She eyed the scattered photographs and the letters that catalogued her all too brief time with Adam. They had lived in a Sydney suburb after they were married, and Adam had joined a small veterinary practice while Becky completed her nursing training. Their lives had been made complete when Danny had been born. But Becky had been missing her family and wanted Danny to get to know them better, and Adam was the son of a local cattleman and always intended to return to the Outback, where his skills were sorely needed. So they’d begun to plan a move to Morgan’s Reach, where they would be closer to both their families.

But then the war in Europe had changed everything.

Danny had been five when Adam had enlisted in 1941, and she’d used the contents of that box to keep his memory alive for their small son as they waited for him to come home. But she could see now that those photographs and letters had perpetuated the close bond Danny had forged with his adored father – had become his reality. No wonder he was finding it so difficult to face another, far bleaker truth.

Becky listened to the mutter of thunder and the cracks of distant lightning as Danny finally fell into an exhausted sleep. She had found solace in returning to the family home after Adam’s death, and although she yearned to begin again with Ben Freeman, it seemed there was to be no escape from the past – or what might have been.

Her tears blinded her as she drew the sheet over Danny, collected the scattered mementos and closed the box. It was time to put it away – and although Adam would never be forgotten, the memory of him would sustain them as they stumbled towards what she hoped would be a brighter future.

3

Sal Davenport had left Morgan’s Reach several hours ago and, as the ancient utility whined and rattled its way over the rough track, she at last began to feel lighter in spirit. Her face was hurting, and her left eye had almost swollen shut, but the sense of freedom and the knowledge that soon she would be in her special place made up for the discomfort.

She carefully negotiated the ruts, potholes and tree roots as she drove further and further from Bert, the pub and the claustrophobia of life in a small town where everyone knew your business. There wasn’t far to go now, and as long as the storm didn’t break too soon, she’d reach her destination before the sun came up.