‘When Tom and I were kids, we’d play with Big Bill’s kids. His mob lived in bark lean-tos up in the bush not all that far from our place. We’d watch Big Bill spear fish. Gosh, he was good. He’d stand in the water still as a statue, spear raised, like this,’ she demonstrated, striking a pose, ‘and he’d stay dead still for as long as it took. Then whoosh, lightning-fast, the spear was gone and when he picked it up again there was a fish on the end.’ She laughed. ‘I remember the time when he tried to teach Tom how to do it – Big Bill was Tom’s absolute hero – but Tom turned out to be utterly hopeless. Understandable, I suppose, he was only ten at the time.’

Betty had appeared suddenly regretful at that point. ‘Come to think of it, we haven’t been back to Arcadia since Tom was ten,’ she said. ‘We didn’t go to the shack the summer before Dad left – we spent the school holidays with friends at Port Douglas instead – and now, ever since he’s been gone, I don’t think Mum wants to go there without him.’

Kasey had found Betty’s recounting of her childhood both fascinating and enlightening. He’d never spoken so intimately with a white woman, and he wondered now whether perhaps Betty’s early contact with Aboriginal people might account for her apparent lack of concern about the colour of a person’s skin. Betty really didn’t seem to care whether someone was black.

In actual fact Betty’s, and also Tom’s, acceptance of racial difference was a direct result of their father’s early life spent among Pacific Islanders.

‘Colour is only skin deep,’ George Francis was wont to say, quoting his own parents as he did. ‘People are people, good, bad or indifferent. Make no assumptions until you get to know the person inside the skin.’

Now, as the ferry approached the alluringly pretty island with its vivid turquoise water and immaculate sandy beaches, they leaned over the railings, admiring the view.

‘I wonder if Big Bill’s still there,’ Betty said thoughtfully. But they both knew they weren’t going to hike up into the bush to find out.

There were quite a few servicemen aboard the ferry; Magnetic Island was a popular choice for an R and R day trip. Along with the beautiful swimming beaches on offer, the major bays boasted a number of social gathering places in the form of picnic reserves, bars and tea rooms.

Upon disembarking, however, Betty and Kasey headed for none of these. Their intention was neither to swim, nor to socialise.

‘Are you sure?’ he’d asked her.