Val had resolutely avoided intruding upon her friend’s privacy, but having decided the time had now come, she had no difficulty discovering Edie’s chosen ‘freedom of lifestyle’ location. A few queries around town provided the answer. Everyone seemed to know where Edie Yiramba was shacked up.

‘So are you going to show me this boatshed of yours?’ she asked one day.

Far from being confronted, Edie just grinned cheekily. ‘Took you long enough, eh?’

And later that same day, Val stood towards the southern end of Rose Bay surveying the dilapidated boatshed that had been home to Edie and her daughter since their arrival from Palm Island.

The boatshed was one of two, about twenty yards apart, and Edie had strung up a clothesline between them. Val was surprised to note that, for a derelict wooden shed, it appeared structurally sound, as did its partner. There was a small water tank standing beside it, too; someone had obviously lived here in the past. She wondered how long these two sheds had been vacant, and who owned them.

‘Could do with a coat of paint,’ she said critically.

‘Yeh,’ Edie replied, ‘yeh, been meaning to get around to that.’ She hadn’t, but it now seemed like a good idea. ‘C’mon inside, Val, I’ll make you a cuppa tea.’

Inside was cosy. Cosy and clean. Edie took pride in her home. A kerosene lamp dangled on a chain from the shed’s central beam, the only lighting provided, but obviously ample. There were no actual bedsteads and no actual chairs, but areas were allotted for specific purposes. The bedding in the far-left corner of the shed was neat and inviting, and the central mat where she and Jill sat to eat their meals immaculate – Edie regularly hung it on the clothesline and bashed it with a broom handle. There were just two items of furniture. In the far-right corner, next to the kerosene stove on the floor, was a small set of shelves housing kitchenware, and beneath one of the side windows an old wooden bench was built onto the wall. Val rightfully supposed it had been there when Edie had first moved in. On top of the bench was a large tin tub, over which sat a tap, its pipe leading through the wooden wall to the 100-gallon water tank outside.

The tin tub served multiple purposes, the bathing of bodies and the washing of crockery certainly, but above all, this was a laundry tub. During her early days in Townsville, Edie had brought laundry home from the houses she serviced. Her modest shack had proved quite a successful small business, enough for her own needs anyway.

Edie enjoyed her work. She liked everything about laundering. Seeing clothes and bedlinen come up spotless was a joy to her. But most of all she loved being the best at her trade.