They walked into the gloom of the general store, which welcomed them with the heady scents of leather and hessian, of flour, sugar, oil, kerosene and dried goods. Sacks and boxes had already been stacked on the wooden floor, and the long counter at the back was covered in bolts of cloth, hats, gloves and the flat-heeled boots worn by the men who worked on the stations.

‘Well now,’ said Annie, as she wiped her hands down her big white apron ‘if it’s not the young doctor and his wife. How’s that daft old fool of a husband of mine?’ Annie’s Irish accent was still strong after almost thirty years in Australia.

‘He’ll be better by tomorrow, Annie,’ he replied.

‘That’s a shame to be sure,’ she said crossly. ‘I’ve enough to do without him getting under me feet, so I have. Coming home late and—’

Not wanting her to begin a long diatribe over her husband’s failings, Terry interrupted. ‘We’ve come for a glass of your famous lemonade, Annie. I hope you still have some.’

‘To be sure, and I always have a supply for me special customers,’ she said, her temper restored with a beaming smile. She reached into the kerosene fridge and poured them both a generous glass. ‘If that no-good husband of mine stuck to my lemonade and good home cooking, he wouldn’t be half the bother,’ she observed cheerfully.

Terence made no comment as he paid for their drinks and steered Sandra back out on to the boardwalk before she could spot the boxes of spirits and the crates of beer that were stacked behind the counter.

Frank still held his audience in thrall. ‘Yeah,’ he drawled, ‘the trip’s been eventful, you might say, and I reckon we’ll be stuck here for a bit.’ The weather’s closing in all around – just like it did the other night when we had what you might call a strange occurrence.’

He surveyed his audience like a seasoned performer. ‘Me and Jim had parked up for the night. No good pressing on when the dust kicks up like that.’ He paused just long enough to build the tension. ‘The wind was blowing and the dust was rising, and we couldn’t see a damned thing out o’ the window. Then there was a break in the dust clouds and this bloke was suddenly standing there in the middle of the bloody road. Cool as ya like, lighting a smoke.’

The gathering leaned towards him, and Frank’s eyes gleamed. He was renowned for his yarns and liked nothing better than a rapt audience. ‘Fair put the wind up Jim, who thought he were a ghost.’ He shook his head and gave his audience a rather superior smile. ‘But of course I knew he weren’t.’