Unable to bear the heat any longer, or resist the smell of the coffee, she swung out of bed and dragged on her skirt and blouse. She brushed her hair, put on her earrings and bracelets and felt ready for the day. Her face was still painful, but not bad enough to distract her, and the swelling had gone down around her eye so she could see properly again.

Having used the dunny, cleaned her teeth and scraped a damp flannel over her face, she poured a large cup of steaming black coffee and padded barefoot out to the veranda and into the dazzling sunshine.

The ponies were grazing beneath the trees on the far side of the clearing, and the still, almost breathless air was full of birdsong. Brandy thumped his tail in greeting as he sat at Max’s feet, but he didn’t get up as Sal approached. Man and dog were settled in front of the easel that had been set up in the clearing and probably had been since dawn. Which wasn’t surprising, for Max liked to paint in the clear early light. The concentration on his face was absolute as he added tiny darts of yellow oil paint to the canvas, making the bush landscape spring into life as if the sun had awakened it.

‘You make it look so easy,’ she breathed. ‘I wish I could do that.’

He turned from the easel and smiled. ‘Well, good morning, sleepyhead,’ he said. ‘What time do you call this?’

She grinned back at him. ‘Not everyone wakes with the sun, and I’m on holiday, remember?’

‘You’ve missed the best light if you wanted to paint today,’ he replied, turning his attention back to his canvas. ‘There’s another storm coming in.’

Sal watched the streaks of purple, grey and blue twist within the thickening clouds. It was dramatic and powerful and she was suddenly impatient to paint it. ‘I’ll get a better view from up there,’ she said, pointing to the top of the trickling waterfall. She finished the last of her coffee and threw the dregs into the undergrowth.

‘It’s been a while,’ he reminded her. ‘So don’t get impatient if you can’t get exactly what you want at first. Just keep working at it. It’ll come.’

‘Thanks, Max.’ She kissed him lightly on his cheek, resisting the deep need to embrace him.

He grinned back at her from beneath the brim of his hat. ‘You know where everything is,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve kept your brushes supple, and there are new canvases, and the fresh paint tubes are in the dresser drawer.’

She raised her eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually been shopping?’

His smile was suddenly shy. ‘I had a visitor,’ he admitted, ‘and he very kindly brought me everything I needed.’