Well, she’d certainly been doing that – giving it a chance. Ava blew out some of her misgivings. ‘Thanks, Hana.’ It did help. ‘The problem is my cautious side keeps whispering about the way I tumbled into love before and the disaster that became of it.’

‘Five years ago.’ Hana puffed with disgust. ‘I wasn’t here then, but I’ve met that Jai and I can easily believe he tricked you. The guy is a sleaze.’

He was actually. Shame she hadn’t seen that when she was nineteen. ‘I saw him in emergency with a bunch of his drunken mates the other night, but one of my friends dragged him away so I didn’t have to deal with him. He’s still making a play.’ Jai hadn’t liked that she’d ignored him.

‘Sounds like him.’

Zac was the opposite. ‘Zac is a caring, wonderful man,’ she told Hana, and she had no doubt about that, and the way he looked at her … But everything that had happened five years ago, with Jai, and when Amelia was born and then died, had been a watershed in her life. She did not want to go through such pain again. And tomorrow marked Amelia’s birthday and she wanted to be at Uluru for dawn.

‘Thanks, Hana. I just needed to hear you. I’d better get going. Get to Yulara before dark.’ And towards the end of that five-hour drive, the wildlife might start to step out in front of her if she didn’t leave now.

‘Any time. And sending hugs for tomorrow for Amelia’s birthday. Love you.’

Ava felt the sting of tears and brushed them away. She composed herself to say goodbye, but before she could Hana added, ‘Drive safe.’

She always did. She’d seen too much heartache not to.

‘Bye, Hana. Love you.’

Speaking of heartache … Zac understood heartache. Which was why she wondered if he’d risk following her to Yulara when they’d part anyway. He had to head back to Sydney shortly and she belonged here. Neither of them had discussed that but soon it would be time to do so.

Very early the next morning, Ava wasn’t thinking about Zac. This was an Ava Zac hadn’t met. It was the day of her yearly dawn pilgrimage to Mutitjulu, Uluru’s family waterhole, to celebrate the short life of her infant daughter. She chose to celebrate the beauty of Amelia’s soul on the date of her birthday rather than with pain on the date that her spirit flew six weeks later.

She’d risen early to allow the pilgrimage before her first shift at the medical centre, which, unlike the maternity ward, began at the reasonable hour of nine. She’d go from here back to the nurse’s flat and get dressed for work.