She’d discovered there were doors in all kinds of places in this house. At the end of the laundry, there was a small passage that passed another toilet and led into an office and store room. From there, a door led outside to the cellar-door area or back into the front of the house to a formal lounge, another bathroom and, Keely assumed, other bedrooms. She hadn’t liked to open the doors to see what was beyond them.

“Have you always lived around here, Jack?”

“I was born down Pemberton way. My father was a bullock driver and taught me the same. That’s where I learned to crack a whip. By the time I was a young man there wasn’t much call for bullock drivers so I’ve done all sorts. Nowdays I run a small farm not far from here. Never lost my touch with the bullocks or the knack of whip cracking, though.” He smiled as Keely put the tea in front of him.

“Do you have bullocks?” Keely asked.

“Not these days. Only sheep. I run a few at Levallier Dell to help keep the weeds down but it’s time to take them back to my place.”

Keely studied him as he took a large bite of the cake.

“This is delicious, Keely.”

“Thanks.” She picked up her cup.

“My sheep respond to the crack of the whip but Bob could round them up without it or me. I like to keep my hand in with it. Back in the day I used to crack my whip for the birds.”

Keely watched Jack take another mouthful of cake, puzzled by his reference to birds.

He swallowed. “The crack of the whip frightens the silvereyes. They can do a lot of damage to a crop of grapes. Levalliers didn’t ever have much bother with them. Euan’s always made sure there are plenty of trees to provide blossom. These days everything gets covered with nets but I like to remind those pesky little birds that Jack the Whip Cracker’s still about.”

He chuckled and Keely relaxed. Jack was a man who enjoyed life.

“So, Keely. What do you like to do when you’re not housekeeping?”

“Bits and pieces.” She smoothed the bright floral tablecloth with her hands. She’d discovered it jammed in the back of the placemat drawer. It livened up the space.

“We all do bits and pieces,” Jack said. “But everyone’s got something that makes them happy.”

She looked out at the view through the glass. The vines shimmered green into the distance under a cloudless blue sky. She liked to cook, she enjoyed her sketching, but the thing that she got lost in was making the jewellery. If she was honest it was the only time she was truly happy and the rest of the world didn’t matter.

“I like to draw and make jewellery,” she said softly.