The previous night, Kate had said she’d help with the mustering, much to Laura’s relief. After Bree and Owen had left for their little love nest, Laura had poured two glasses from a bottle of red and told her older sister all about her decision to leave the city. Kate had nodded and murmured in all the right places but she hadn’t said a lot. Laura had thought she looked tired but had put it down to the drive. Now she said she was sick, according to Bree.

Inside the house she could hear the shower. She knocked on the bathroom door. The shower stopped and a string of invective exploded back at her.

“It’s me, Laura. Just checking you’re—”

The door flew open and Kate stood in a whirl of steam, a towel clutched to her torso. “Sorry. I thought you were Bree.”

“She’s gone.”

“Damn. Did she say where?”

“Tank paddock, but don’t worry about it, she’ll manage till Dad gets back.”

“Have we heard from him?”

Laura shrugged. “I haven’t. I’ll take morning tea out later.” She peered at Kate. “Bree said you were sick.”

“Not sick exactly. Just feeling tired and a bit off. We’ve had a full-on couple of months. I think I just hit the wall. I’d kill for a tea though, and some toast.”

“I’ll get on it. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thanks.” Kate flicked her a grateful smile and shut the door.

In the kitchen Laura stopped and looked around. This room was the hub of their home. The wooden furniture gave off a soft golden glow and all the family photos gave the large room a welcoming feel. The working space was vast and filled with every cooking gadget known to the gourmet chef. She felt inspired and had an overwhelming urge to cook. The basic kitchen in her city flat, with only two functioning hot plates and a small oven-come-grill with a door that didn’t close properly, wasn’t conducive to cooking anything but the simplest of meals. And when she came home for the odd weekend, cooking was the last thing she felt like doing, especially because her mother always had it all organised.

Laura was thinking cornflake crumb biscuits because they were her favourites, little cakes with the tops cut out and filled with cream, and maybe even some savoury pinwheels if she could find all the right ingredients. Something that would brighten Bree’s face when she took it out for morning tea. It would also be a help to her mother if Laura had an assortment of freshly baked food ready for mustering. She forgot all about breakfast and threw herself into her task with enthusiasm.

“What the hell are you doing?”