‘Well, that’s part of it,’ said Pearly, ‘but I’ve made a few decisions lately that have backfired. I’ve been taking stuff for granted and not thinking clearly enough. Too much on my plate, and I need to take stock a bit.’

‘Well, you take on a fair load one way and another,’ said Richie. ‘Maybe pulling back on some things wouldn’t hurt. Anyway, come on in and have a drink.’

‘Actually, I think I might walk up the gully track a way, have some time to myself. Tell Natalie I’ll pop in to say cheerio before heading back to town.’

‘That’s fine. We’ll need to talk about a couple of firewood weekends too, won’t we.’

‘I’ll check the diary and get back to you,’ said Pearly.

Richie opened the gate and was about to go through when something occurred to him, and he turned back towards his brother. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘The clay house’s roof’s on, and they’ve made a damn good job. We never found out what prick set fire to the place. Next time you come out I’ll take you over.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Pearly. They didn’t shake hands, but Richie gave his brother’s upper arm a quick grip as he went through the gate.

‘Well, you know where I am,’ he said

The gully track was in the opposite direction to the sheds and yards on the flat. It headed into the hills following a dry creek bed with briar and some scraps of fugitive gorse but less overgrown than during Pearly’s boyhood. Richie had done a lot to improve the ground cover of the property since taking over and was careful not to overstock. As he climbed higher, Pearly thought about the satisfaction there would be in running the farm: all the decisions your own, all the outcomes your responsibility. Pearly was so often constrained by the need to accommodate regulatory triviality, the contrary views and entrenched bigotries of other people, whereas a cocky free of serious debt was ruler of a kingdom and subject only to the weather.