‘Little sisters do sometimes have their uses,’ she teased. ‘Now go to bed before you fall down. Dad will want you up and ready for work first thing, and you know what a stickler he is for punctuality.’

They parted in the long corridor that led to the four bedrooms and she peeked in on Danny. He was asleep, exhausted by his exciting day, his beloved bicycle propped against the end of his bed. Becky closed the door and went to her own room.

Lying in bed some time later, she listened to the thunder as the flashes of lightning threw shadows on the walls and the heat intensified. Terry’s surprise arrival had given her father a new lease of life, and her mother’s smile hadn’t faltered all day. Granny Gwyn had done her best to hide her disapproval of Sandra, her pride in her grandson shining through as her gaze followed him everywhere. And Danny had found a new playmate all too willing to let him set out his railway lines just the way he liked them and lie on the floor with him for hours shunting trains about.

All in all it had been a very good day – made even better by the kisses she and Ben had managed to steal behind the schoolhouse while the birthday party was at its peak. Becky closed her eyes, the smile of contentment still on her lips as sleep claimed her.

*

As the stars disappeared behind the ominous roiling clouds and the thunder boomed with deeper menace, the residents of Morgan’s Reach lay asleep behind shutters and windows closed tightly against the dust that would soon sweep through the town as the hot winds came out of the western desert.

It was now two o’clock in the morning. The street was deserted, with every house in darkness as the windmill started to clatter and the first coils of fine red dust began to spiral down the tracks and trails.

Gwyneth had long since left her watching post on the front veranda, for there was nothing to see now the town was asleep, and she was very tired after the long, hot day. But if she had stayed for just a while longer she would have discovered that not everyone in Morgan’s Reach was asleep – and perhaps could have prevented the single act that, once achieved, set in motion a series of random events that would ultimately have tragic consequences.

6

He’d reached the shepherd’s hut shortly before noon. It was standing forlornly in the meagre shade of two wilting gum trees – a tumbledown collection of roughly hewn logs covered by a rusting sheet of corrugated tin. There were no windows, and the door was just a rough opening so low he’d had to crawl through it and pull his kitbag after him.