Edie often called in to ‘sort out the washing’, although she could easily have left the task in her daughter’s capable hands. But she thoroughly enjoyed the walk into town and she liked to sit in the kitchen chatting with Jilly over ‘a cuppa and a biccie’. Her Palm Island girls back at the laundry could easily manage things without her; she had a good set of girls these days.

‘G’day, Edie,’ Val said as she and Lyndon started up the stairs.

‘G’day, Val.’ Edie halted immediately, awaiting an introduction.

Val obliged. ‘This is Commander Johnson,’ she said, ‘Commander, this is Aunty Edie.’

‘How do, ma’am,’ Lyndon said politely to the Aboriginal woman who was eyeing him up and down as astutely as Val had.

‘American navy …’ Edie was studying the buttons and the cut of the jacket. ‘No two ways about it, you Yanks got style. Just look at that, will you,’ she went on with a quick glance to Val and an admiring wave of her hand that took in the overall uniform, ‘better fabric, better finish than anything the Aussies got, zips in the pants, too, not buttons like our boys.’

‘Aunty Edie’s an expert,’ Val explained to Lyndon.

‘Yep,’ Edie grinned proudly, ‘best laundry in Townsville.’ Her eyes momentarily leaving the uniform, she gazed up at the Yankee officer’s face. Jeez he’s tall, she thought, somebody important, too, she could tell just by looking at him, and she liked the way he talked, with that drawl some of them had. ‘You bring your clobber to me and you’ll get it back like brand new every time.’

‘Thank you, Aunty Edie, I swear I’ll remember that.’ Lyndon had gathered from Val’s tone that the ‘Aunty’ was some form of title, so he was appropriately respectful in his use of it.

Val initiated their move. If she didn’t Edie’d stand here and chat all day. ‘Ask Jill to bring us up a coffee, will you, Edie,’ she said as she started up the stairs.

‘Sure, Val,’ and flashing another smile at the Yank, Edie set off for the kitchen.

The two of them alone in her office, Val didn’t settle herself behind the desk, thereby creating a barrier, but chose one of the armchairs instead.

Lyndon chose another, seating himself opposite her with just the small coffee table between them, the air of informality and friendliness pleasing him.

‘So, Lyndon …’ she said, displaying a neat pair of ankles and knees as she crossed her legs. For a full-bodied woman, Val had shapely legs and she liked to display them. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit? Can I be of further assistance in your enquiries?’