Her words shattered the pleasant glow of his homecoming. Without bothering to reply he drove the car to the other side of the road and parked it outside the Morgan homestead, where a graceful coolibah tree gave some meagre shade. He looked at the dying garden and the familiar green shutters and screens, then searched for and found the deep indent scarring one of the veranda posts. He’d been five or six when he’d crashed his scooter against it, but he could still remember sailing over the top of that railing and landing with such a thud on the grass he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

He gave a wry smile as he fingered the small crescent-shaped scar on his forehead that was a memento of the occasion. It had bled profusely, he remembered with a touch of the same pride he’d felt all those years ago, and had been quite something to boast about to his mates.

‘I don’t see what you’ve got to smile about,’ said Sandra crossly. ‘This place gives me the creeps. Turn the car around, Terence. I want to go home.’

‘I’ll do no such thing,’ he replied quietly, his gaze fixed on the elderly woman emerging from the house opposite. ‘This is our home now for a while, so just behave yourself and be nice. You’re about to get reacquainted with Granny Gwyn.’

She followed his gaze and scowled. ‘Once was enough, when your family came down for the wedding. Horrible old trout – picking holes in everything, and turning up her nose at my friends.’

‘Well, try your best to be pleasant,’ he said firmly. ‘She’s an old woman and deserves a bit of respect.’

Terence climbed out of the car before Sandra could reply, and met his grandmother in the middle of the almost deserted street. He embraced her gently and did his best to mask his dismay at how much she’d aged since he’d seen her last. ‘G’day, Granny Gwyn,’ he said. ‘You’re looking as sprightly as ever. How ya going?’

‘Good,’ she replied, looking up at him. ‘Which is more than I can say for you. You look like something the cat dragged in.’

He grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Thanks, Gran. I always knew I could rely on you to speak as you find.’

She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Well, this is a surprise, I must say. Never thought you had it in you to realise where your responsibilities lie. But your father will be delighted to have some help at last. He’s getting old and past it, just like me.’

‘Didn’t Dad get my letter?’ he asked, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I posted it just before I left Sydney.’