The past eighteen months had been fraught with difficulty, and this journey to Morgan’s Reach was his rather desperate last attempt to get things back on an even keel. If it didn’t work, then he’d failed – and Terence was not a man used to failure. He walked round the car and opened the door, prepared to try yet again to appease her.

Sandra was looking more composed and had even begun to repair her make-up. ‘Unless you’ve come to tell me we’re going back to Sydney, then you can save your breath,’ she muttered.

‘I do understand how difficult you’re finding this trip,’ he said softly. ‘But we both know how important it was to get out of Sydney – to look at things with a clearer eye and begin again. You won’t be alone, Sandra. I’ll be right here beside you every step of the way, and we’ll get through this together.’

She closed her powder compact with a snap and returned it to her handbag. Her gaze was challenging. ‘You promised on our wedding day that you’d never leave me,’ she replied evenly, ‘and look what happened.’

She would try the patience of a saint, he thought wearily. ‘I love you, Sandra’ he said simply. ‘Please don’t be like this.’

‘I want a drink,’ she said flatly.

He took a deep breath as he stood and closed the passenger door. ‘All I can offer is coffee or water,’ he said wearily.

‘But I need a proper drink if I’m going to have to face that family of yours,’ she retorted. Her expression became artful as she reached for his hand. ‘Come on, Terry,’ she wheedled. ‘I know you must have a small bottle of something hidden away. Just a little sip won’t hurt.’

Terence thought about the bottle of whisky he’d hidden beneath the spare tyre in the boot. Sandra clearly hadn’t found it yet, but as it was a gift for his father it would stay hidden and unopened.

He rounded the car and climbed back behind the steering wheel. ‘You’ve done really well so far,’ he murmured. ‘Eight whole days without a drink is quite an achievement. I’m very proud of you.’

Sandra glared at him and folded her arms tightly round her waist. ‘Don’t patronise me, Terence. I’m not a kid.’

‘Then stop behaving like one,’ he said mildly as he turned the key in the ignition.

She glowered out of the window at the surrounding gum trees and the narrow track they were following, her hostility almost tangible in her heavy silence.