‘No, no,’ Baz exclaimed, holding his right hand up in the air as if swearing an oath, ‘the farm will be well looked after. The tenant will retain your hired help, Johnno, and pay him his customary wage.’

‘Johnno can’t run the farm on his own,’ Ned said scathingly, ‘Young Johnno’s a moron. He can only take orders.’

‘The tenant is prepared to pay an overseer’s wage and also, if necessary, another worker,’ Baz said smoothly. This was something he hadn’t been prepared for, but upon quick consideration it was certainly worthwhile. It would be to his advantage to maintain the farm. ‘You’ll be receiving regular monthly rental payments, Ned,’ he said, flashing a winning smile to Vera in the knowledge that he already had her on side, ‘and by the time all this terrible threat of invasion is over, you’ll come home to a flourishing farm, I can promise you. What’s wrong with that?’

‘Nuthin’, Ned,’ Vera broke in with the voice of authority, ‘bloody nuthin’. We get the kids down to Brisbane right now, you hear me? Soon as we can, within the next couple of days. Let the Japs invade, let the yellow bastards do whatever they’re gonna do, but our kids’ll be safe.’

Baz left the Parslow property a half-hour later. It had been as easy as he had known it would be. But there was hard work to follow. As soon as the family had departed, there was a farmhouse and outbuildings that needed to be cleared, if not gutted, and adjustments made.

Val came out and inspected the place, she and Baz discussing in detail its merits and shortcomings. The positioning was ideal, just five miles from town and less than ten miles from Kelso, and the conversion was not impossible.

It was a fine autumn morning and the two of them walked about the property, which was attractively situated near the banks of the Ross River, examining the buildings and the layout.

The farmhouse itself, a rambling affair that had been passed down through several generations of Parslows before ending up with Ned, would serve as the club, they decided. Its rooms would be cleared and converted into bars and lounges. The floor of the large barn nearby would be laid with decking and the building converted to a dance hall. And the stables … well, the purpose the stables would serve was fairly obvious to them both.

The stables consisted of six conjoined stalls, and had been built by Ned’s father in the days when horses had done all the work, but the Parslows hadn’t kept horses for years, so the stalls had been used purely for storage.

‘We clear out all the junk,’ Baz said as they wandered the stables, closely examining every one of the stalls, ‘give each a scrub-down, shove in some flooring and a bunk and … voilà,’ he said with a theatrical wave of his hand.