‘Yeah,’ Zara nodded. ‘I haven’t seen them in ages.’

‘Last week this pump ended up with a tankful of dirty fuel. Don’t know how that happened, but it did. So, it sets an alarm off here in my office to say there’s a problem. I dial up this screen and see the trough is empty. Of course, from here I can’t see what the problem is, other than there’s no water. That’s when I can say to Mum that we need to go for a look. So, we both went out there, worked out what the problem was. I was able to drain the tank, but then Mum organised another load of diesel, got a jerry can and,’ he looked up and grinned, ‘Bob’s your uncle! Sorted. The fuel company was most apologetic!’

‘And that made your life easier?’ As she said it Zara wanted a hole in the ground to open and swallow her whole. Made your life easier. What a stupid thing to say.

Will didn’t seem to notice. ‘It did, because it meant I didn’t have to get out there and drive around checking, using up the little energy I have in places that didn’t need me that day. I still try to do a stock run every week. I go out for an hour or so every day—you know, break it up. I’ll start close to the homestead, then the next day head out further, and so on.’

‘What made you think of this?’ Zara sat back and ran her hand through her honey-coloured hair, pulling it up into a ponytail with the hairband she had on her wrist. Then she leaned forward again, reading the words on the screen. ‘It’s got the time and date down here,’ she said, pointing to the bottom right-hand corner. ‘Is there anything else that helps?’

Will shrugged. ‘Look, you can get much more expensive gear than I’ve got here. I watched a video online of a camera that will zoom in and stay with the vehicle as it’s moving around the yard. It must’ve had some kind of swivel and zoom on it, but I don’t need that. Just enough to check the water.’

She tapped a few keys and watched as the screens changed from one trough to another. The picture was a live feed and she could see sheep coming and going from the trough; it looked strange without any sound. ‘Well, I think it’s a bloody great idea!’

‘Mum likes it too.’

Silence filled the room and Zara tried to think of a way to fill it.

‘Mum mentioned this morning about whether or not to start seeding. What do you think about that?’

‘The same as she does. It’s too dry.’

‘You’re not going to start yet?’

‘Nah, and if it hasn’t rained by May, I don’t think we will this year. Just run the sheep—it’s still busy with stock. You’ve got to feed, shear, crutch. All of that. But no point in putting the land under any extra pressure, or spending the money to start seeding, if it’s not going to rain …’ His voice trailed off as they both realised he probably wouldn’t be there to see the shearing or crutching.