His father grabbed a plank from the wheelbarrow, held it up to the roof. Measured with his eye. ‘I don’t give two bob about slouch hats.’ He lowered the plank, laid it against the shed’s wall and began stacking the others beside it. ‘This boat. Can you afford it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And have you any idea how to sail it?’

‘Some.’

‘How much?’

‘Not much.’

‘Well.’ He indicated the shed with a dip of his neck. ‘At least it’ll be safe when it’s out of the water.’

Ned swallowed. ‘Thanks.’ Knew he should say more, but could get no more words out. Nothing in his short, tight life had prepared him to convey the amount of gratitude he felt.

His father grabbed another plank. ‘Don’t expect a birthday present.’

They unloaded the rest of the planks from the wheelbarrow. When they were finished, Ned’s father straightened up and looked out at the water. The sun was dying at their backs, shedding long light over weak ripples. The satisfaction disappeared from his features. A crumpling came over his face, and suddenly he looked like Falmouth: age-wrecked, hollow. ‘Make sure you take your sister out when you’ve bought it.’

‘I will.’

After a moment his father still looked undone, unravelled, his eyes caught on something beneath the water. Ned felt a need to drag him landward. ‘What else did the vet say?’

His father slid his attention from the river, back to Ned. A rough hint of a smile on his face. ‘Told me everything. Known Telle since we were kids. Knew her parents.’

Relief poured through Ned. He exhaled, long and slow. ‘I thought you’d be mad about the quoll.’

His father’s eyebrows dropped. His eyes hardened. His face returned to its usual blankness, its unreadable quietness. ‘Quoll?’

11

11

WHEN HE WAS old enough to feel a coarse grating in his knees but still young enough to work outdoors through every hour of daylight, to work without complaint or sourness, Ned went to the saltwater cattle muster in the northwest. He and his wife had recently bought a small orchard, not far from Limberlost. They now had a baby, a girl they’d named Sally. Another child was expected in a few months.

The orchard’s fruit was not yet yielding much money, so together with planting more apple trees, they’d put in a large vegetable garden. Ned knew nothing about gardening—all he knew about plants was how to grow apples and fell gums—but his wife had grown up cultivating enough food to supply a small market. She led him through the basics, her old sternness reappearing in the moments he got things wrong, her love winking through afterwards, as they threw loose dirt at each other. They worked hard and although they were sometimes hungry, they were rarely unhappy.