So the brick kiln was built – the copper tub fitting perfectly in the centre – and the chimney that led outside was constructed. And Baz’s mate built another chimney also, to accommodate the potbelly stove that had miraculously appeared from nowhere.

‘A bloke I know’s upgrading his kitchen,’ Baz said. ‘Got himself a brand-new Metters, doesn’t want the old potbelly.’

The old potbelly stove would prove a godsend to Edie. It was bound to be handy for cooking, certainly, but of far greater importance was how perfect it would be for heating up the two flat irons she’d brought with her from The Brown’s. With no source of electricity, the iron Val had recently purchased for the pub would be useless, but Edie never used it anyway. She eschewed the newfangled electric things. She didn’t even like using the petrol-fuelled irons favoured by most. She’d been trained with flat irons on Palm Island and flat irons remained her instrument of choice.

The day finally came.

‘All set now, Val,’ she said proudly, ‘we ready to give best-ever laundry in Townsville, eh.’

‘We sure are, Edie,’ Val agreed as they stood together one Saturday afternoon, young Jill, now fourteen, by their side surveying the newly whitewashed boatsheds. ‘You two have done a bloody good job. You should feel very proud of yourselves.’

Mother and daughter exchanged smiles. They did. All the laborious sanding back and painting they’d done themselves; working around the clock, refusing assistance from others who’d offered. This was their home, and they felt inordinately proud.

The laundry was slow to take off, but word did get about, and gradually new customers came on board as regulars. Each week, Edie would walk the three miles from her boatshed to The Brown’s and present Val with a half-share of the takings. Baz delivered and collected the pub’s laundry on a weekly basis, it was true, but for some strange reason Edie didn’t quite trust Baz with money. He was smart and he was handsome all right, but she found him a shifty kind of bloke. Anyway, she liked to walk. She could walk a whole day without stopping, and did every now and then. Deciding occasionally to take a day off, she and Jill would go walkabout far into the surrounding bush. The two would walk for miles, leaving at dawn and not returning until nightfall. Edie Yiramba had determined her daughter should always be aware of her heritage and her connection with the land.

Edie actually had no cause for worry as far as Baz was concerned. The pittance the laundry made was of no interest to him.

Nor was the sum delivered of any worthwhile value to Val, who had tried to dissuade Edie from what she obviously saw as her weekly obligation.

‘Why don’t you leave it until business has picked up a bit, Edie,’ she’d suggested.