He tried to slow the conversation’s pace, to steer the topic towards their mother. But Sally had leaned forward, put down her beer.

‘Do you know about the orchard, Dad?’

He paused for a moment, confused. ‘I know what there is to know. What do you mean?’

‘I dunno.’ A fierce light had come into Sally’s eyes. ‘About the people who were there first. You know, before the invasion.’

Ned stared at her. Couldn’t understand what she was saying, what was happening. ‘What’s gotten into you?’

He noticed that Grace was looking away from them both, studying the lamplights through the windows.

Sally raised her hands. ‘The invasion, Dad. I thought you’d at least know that your great-grandparents weren’t exactly invited here.’

‘Of course I bloody know…’

‘About the killings?’

‘Look, love, there are some things you don’t understand…’

‘Like massacres?’

‘Don’t you talk to me like that. Don’t you dare.’

The words had come out harsh, loud. Sally flinched, retreated into her seat. Grace’s shoulders fell, but she kept looking out the window.

Ned felt an instant burn of shame. ‘Sorry, Sal. Sorry. It’s just…Yes, I know a thing or two about that stuff. I’ve listened to the old folks around the valley. But I’m not here to talk about that. You see…’

And he tried to get it out. To tell them about Callie’s sickness, how the cancer had reappeared in her breast and also in her blood. How a mastectomy was scheduled. Their mother was going to get through it, he needed to tell them, just as she’d got through it when they were children. They could be sure of it. Was there anyone stronger than their mother? Did they know any other mother who’d work in the trees all day and in the home all night? Any other woman who could hunt hawks in the morning and cut roses in the afternoon? If anyone was going to beat this thing, he needed to say, it would be Callie West.