“The tanks are getting low.” He pushed a drawer shut, opened another. “The girls have to remember we’re not on mains water here.” By that he would mean she had to remind them. “Laura especially, she—”

“I’ll suggest Laura share Bree’s bathroom. That’ll remove some of the clutter.”

“Do we know how long she’s staying?”

Natalie shook her head. “Milt, we need to talk.”

“What about?”

“Jack.”

“Not again, Natalie. I told you he’s only interested in expanding his farming knowledge. There’s nothing more to it.” He took a clean shirt from the wardrobe. “I’d better get through the shower. Mum will be here soon.”

He left and anger bubbled in Natalie’s chest. She could think of nothing but Jack, and Milt was oblivious.

She took a deep calming breath, let herself out into the passage then paused at Laura’s door. It was shut. She’d been brusque with her youngest. Her words had discouraged conversation when she could see from Laura’s look after lunch she’d wanted to unburden, but Natalie hadn’t given her the option, hadn’t had the strength to deal with Laura’s dramas.

She’d seen the same pressing look in Bree’s eyes when she’d talked about going away with Owen and in Kate’s when she talked about her falling-out with Sarah. She should have asked if it was that or something more that created the air of lethargy she noticed around Kate. Natalie wanted to listen, to offer motherly soothings and words of wisdom, but it was as if that ability had been suctioned from her.

The damned book declared it was her duty to devote her time to taking care of her family and putting them before her own needs. She’d done that all the girls’ lives so why couldn’t she summon the energy for it now? It was as if Natalie was an outsider watching her family from a distance and all the while she was drawing away, the facade of her life brittle, curling at the edges like an old photograph that had been left in the sun.

The voices from the kitchen were bright, loud, the girls all talking at once and then Olive’s chuckle. Natalie drew a deep breath, steeled herself for the evening ahead and stepped into the kitchen.

There was a pause in the conversation as she entered. Bree’s brow furrowed. Kate’s smile was encouraging, but Laura’s look was tentative.

“Have you been sleeping?” Olive inspected her. “You’re still looking pale.”

“Are you all right, Mum?” Kate asked, her dark eyes searching.

“I’m fine.” She crossed to stand beside Bree and reached for her apron. “You should be resting that leg.”

“I hope you girls haven’t been wearing your mother out,” Olive said.