‘That seems to me most unjust,’ she replied, speaking her mind sharply, which was rather out of character, but Amelia had changed of late. She was stronger these days. ‘That seems to me most unjust indeed.’ She would sorely miss her students, particularly Ant, who had become very dear to her.

Oh poor Ant, she thought, poor, poor Ant, he’d been so looking forward to discovering ‘How the Leopard Got His Spots’. Amelia was angry with the military for denying young men the opportunity to learn, yet at the same time she felt a strange urge to cry.

‘I agree with you, Amelia,’ Samuel said – they’d progressed to first names over the past week or so. ‘I agree with you entirely. The military’s decision is unjust on a great many levels, I fear.’

Already, Samuel Robinson was worried about the outcome of such a radical decision. His men’s daily duty involved long hours of heavy physical toil. Their existence was akin to a prison sentence as it was – ‘like doing hard labour on a chain gang’, he’d heard some say, and they were right. Men working under such conditions needed something to look forward to, some form of pleasure; bars and alcohol, music and dance halls, brothels and women. To deny them all the city offered and keep them stuck out in the bush working like dogs was to invite disaster.

‘Will you do me a favour, Samuel?’ Amelia asked.

‘Of course, if it’s within my power,’ he said.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she promised, rising from her chair. They were seated in the kitchen having had a cup of tea. Samuel would be leaving shortly.

She disappeared, returning barely a minute later with a book in her hand. ‘Will you give this to Private Anthony Hill, please?’

She sat, putting the book on the table before him. He saw that it was a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s Just So Stories, an old copy by the looks of it, the dust jacket tattered and well-worn.

‘Tell him it’s a gift from me,’ she said. ‘Tell him he is to keep it.’

‘Of course, Amelia,’ he said, ‘I’ll be happy to do that.’ He stood, picking up the book.

She stood also, her eyes remaining on the book as he tucked it under his arm.

Samuel found something very touching about her, something sad, regretful, as if she were saying goodbye to a part of her life, which perhaps she was. She’d enjoyed her return to teaching, he knew that much, she’d openly told him so. She looks as if she might cry, he thought, and suddenly he wanted to put a comforting arm about her.

‘I’ll see you next weekend, Amelia,’ he said. With the company now based at Kelso, he would be returning to his city billet only on weekends.