Ben was still smiling as he pushed back from the radio and reached for his hat. Gwyneth Morgan was a wise old bird, and her continued watch over the residents of Morgan’s Reach meant that she quite often had a solution to their many problems. It would do the twins good to get away from their father, and to see what life was really like on the vast expanse of Wilga Station, where toughness didn’t come with the strike of a belt against a backside, but with the discipline and knowledge learned in a harsh environment. The men who worked those thousands of acres earned respect from their mates by working as a team, and the twins were bright enough to catch on quickly and put their energies into something useful for a change.

5

As they left the single-track highway and the car bounced over the potholes and ruts in the narrow bush track Terence could feel the tension rising in Sandra. He glanced across at her and saw the forlorn expression on her face as she stared out at the surrounding trees. ‘We’re nearly there,’ he said softly.

‘I want to go home,’ she replied, her voice hitching as a single tear sparkled on her eyelashes.

Her sudden vulnerability struck at his heart and he stopped the car and switched off the engine. ‘Oh, Sandra,’ he murmured as he took her in his arms. ‘It won’t be so bad, really it won’t.’

‘I can’t bear it,’ she spluttered. ‘Please, Terry, take me home.’

He held her close as she clutched at his shirt, dampening it with her tears. ‘Don’t cry, my love,’ he soothed. ‘Think of it as a new beginning – a chance for us both to recover and look at things afresh.’

Her mascara was running down her cheeks as she looked up at him. ‘I don’t want to start again,’ she rasped. ‘I want to be in Sydney, close to where little Michael is buried so I can go and talk to him.’ Her voice was rising as the hysteria took hold. ‘How the hell do you expect me to just forget him when he’s in my thoughts every hour of every day? Why do you think I need to drink? It eases the pain, Terry – blots out the memories of him lying so still in that awful coffin – of seeing it lowered into the ground, knowing I’ll never hold him again.’

Her words twisted his heart. ‘I mourn him too,’ he replied, his own voice strangled by the lump in his throat. ‘He will never be forgotten,’ he added softly, ‘but it’s time to accept that he’s gone, and that there’s nothing we can do but be thankful we were blessed to have him, if even for such a short time.’

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Dry your eyes, darling, and try to look to the future—’