A particularly loud crack of lightning startled her, and the ute swerved alarmingly. She gripped the steering wheel to get it back under control, staring determinedly through the windscreen as the headlights wavered over the track and gave her a fleeting glimpse of the black basalt mountain that loomed ahead of her. This was a lonely place, far from civilisation, where a snakebite or venomous spider could kill within minutes and a breakdown or accident would leave her stranded. But she was well aware of the dangers, had a healthy respect for this remote, sprawling emptiness, was prepared for most eventualities and was not afraid to be alone out here.

She’d first taken this track on one of her many escapes from Bert – had followed it out of curiosity and found her sanctuary. Now she rejoiced in the solitude, her pulse quickening in anticipation as she steered through the steep, narrow mountain pass.

The high walls of black rock closed in on both sides, the headlights rising and dipping as the utility rumbled over scree and around the scattered boulders which could snap a crankshaft or puncture a sump. The thunder was rolling overhead, the night sky lit by forks of jagged lightning giving her flash-bulb glimpses of the panorama before her as she left the mountain behind and began the long, steep descent to the heavily forested valley.

Startled wallabies and kangaroos bounded out of the headlight beams, brightly coloured birds rose from their night roosts with sharp cries and the beating of a thousand wings as a boobook owl watched, unafraid, from a nearby tree branch, its big yellow eyes following her progress solemnly as it continually shrilled its double hoot.

Despite being in a hurry to reach her hiding place, Sal slowed the utility to a crawl as she reached the valley floor. The track was overgrown and much narrower now, the darkness more profound beneath the forest canopy, and she knew that a moment’s carelessness could cost her dear.

The spare tyres, spade, chains, ropes and petrol and water cans rattled beneath the tarpaulin that covered the flatbed as the utility negotiated tree roots and anthills. Low-hanging branches scraped the roof and foliage brushed against the windows as Sal edged the ute along the almost invisible track that wound tortuously through the bush.

She knew she was very close now, for suddenly the trees didn’t encroach on the track, and as she took the last bend she came to the edge of the clearing and gave a sigh of pleasure and relief. Letting the engine idle, she could now hear the sound of a dog barking furiously. Brandy had probably heard her coming from miles back.