Tom sat at the table and watched her as she went about making the tea. She’d be pretty if she wasn’t so sad, he thought. And when she smiles she doesn’t even look old. Twenty-eight, to Tom, was nearly thirty and therefore virtually middle-aged. He understood why Amelia Sanderson was sad, of course. His mum had told him.

Poor Mrs Sanderson, he thought, missing in action really means presumed dead, but they don’t tell you that for ages. They just make you wait. Must be awful for her.

‘We’ve got this really beaut American bloke billeted at our place,’ he said enthusiastically, determined not only to entertain but also to convince her she should give his mum’s idea a go. ‘He’s not all that old, somewhere in his twenties, and he’s a captain. But I’m allowed to call him Frank,’ he added proudly. ‘Anyway, I lent Frank my bike the other day,’ he went on as she brought the teapot to the table and joined him. ‘He wanted to go for a ride, said it made him feel like a kid again.’

‘Oh yes?’ Amelia put the knitted tea-cosy on the pot and gave Tom her full attention as she waited for the tea to draw.

‘Yeah. And you know the way they say you never forget how to ride a bike?’

Amelia nodded. ‘That’s what they say all right.’

‘He forgot, that’s for sure, he came the most awful cropper. Rode out of town and came back an hour later soaking wet.’

‘Really, my goodness, what happened?’

‘He was riding down the hill, the big one just out of town, and he reckons the brakes jammed, but I tell you, Mrs Sanderson, there’s nothing wrong with my bike. I keep it in top condition.’ Tom grinned conspiratorially. ‘I’d say Frank was embarrassed and covering his tracks.’

‘Sounds like it to me,’ she agreed.

‘Turns out he steered the bike into the creek so he’d make a soft landing. Crikey, he even sounded proud of himself when he told me, but I ask you, how dumb is that!’ Tom let out a huge hoot of laughter. ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell him there are crocs in that creek.’

Amelia laughed also and, mission accomplished, the boy felt rightly proud of himself.

She finished her tea and poured a second, he ate another two biscuits, and they talked for a further twenty minutes, or rather Tom did, eliciting an occasional smile, which pleased him immensely. Then it was time for him to go.

She put the remaining Anzac biscuits in a paper bag and insisted he take them with him.

‘OK,’ he agreed, ‘and I’ll bring you a bag of sugar, that’s a fair deal.’

‘It is indeed.’

She walked with him to the front door.