“Well, my girls are definitely grown up. They don’t need me like your kids do and Milt’s mum is managing fairly well on her own.” Natalie thought of Olive’s rather sad, stilted farewell after a quiet breakfast with only the two of them and Milt at the table. Their conversation had been about Natalie’s trip, the weather and the upcoming ram sale. Milt and his mother had been painfully polite. You could have cut the air with a knife. The girls had all slept in and only appeared as Natalie was ready to leave for her drive to Victor.

“How are my gorgeous nieces?” Bronwyn asked.

“They’re good.” Natalie rattled off the response, in the same manner she described herself as fine, but were they really all good? A week ago Natalie would have said her girls were settled, healthy, happy, leading busy lives doing what they wanted, which was all that she’d ever hoped for them but now…She recalled Kate’s pale face, dark eyes and bloodless lips that had turned up in a forced smile this morning as Natalie had climbed into her car. Bree had been quiet too; Natalie wondered when she was planning to tell her father about her imminent departure. And Laura, well, dear Laura had been chirpy, the one bright spark among them, but she’d thrown in her job and come home without, it seemed, any plan for the future.

“I don’t suppose Milt was happy for me to drag you away for a few days.”

“I’m staying the week, at least. I’ll be here when Mum comes home and stay on. Take the pressure off you. Besides, all three girls are home at the moment so Milt has plenty of help.”

She wouldn’t admit her husband hadn’t been pleased to hear of her plans to go to Victor for a week. That would only add to Bronwyn’s load and also made Milt seem churlish. He wasn’t usually like that. He was often the one who suggested she visit her parents or invite them to stay at the farm. But last night had been different. After Bronwyn’s phone call Natalie had returned to a tense standoff in the kitchen. Obviously more words had been said in her absence.

Olive had been fussing over the dishwasher and Natalie had urged her to leave the last of the tidying up to her and to go and join the girls in the den.

Milt had still been sitting at the table, a brooding presence, when she’d told him about her mum and her plans to go to Victor the next day. He’d baulked when she’d said she’d be gone for the week.

“We’re tailing,” he’d said, with such a shocked look she may as well have told him she was planning to dance naked down the main street of town.