“There should be another in the bottom of the fridge.” Natalie pointed to the crisper as Laura opened the door.

Laura rummaged then lifted a bottle triumphantly. “Yes. Do you want one, Mum?”

“Thanks.” Natalie nodded. Suddenly a glass of wine looked like a lifebuoy thrown to a drowning woman. Behind her the conversation picked up and went on, Olive pressing the girls for details about their lives. Natalie wiped down the sink. Normally she’d be part of the conversation but tonight she felt as if she was drifting somewhere beyond it. She checked the progress of the curry then took her seat at the table.

Olive smelled the air. “Is that curry?”

“It is.” Laura passed her one of the two glasses of wine she’d poured. “We had roast with Jack Halbot last night so Mum didn’t want to cook one tonight.”

Olive paused, her hand midway to the glass Laura offered. She looked at Natalie, a glint of irritation in her eyes. “Why was Jack Halbot here and why would he get my roast?”

“Don’t worry, Granny,” Kate said. “It was only mutton, not pork.”

“I love roast mutton. Saturday night is always roast night. It’s tradition.” Olive sniffed and took a sip of her wine. “Never been one for curry. It was always used to disguise rabbit in my younger days.”

“It’s chicken,” Natalie said.

“There’s cheesecake for afters,” Laura said brightly.

“And where am I to sleep tonight?” Olive glanced between Laura and Kate. “I usually take the guest bedroom but I assume one of you will be in there.”

Natalie blew out a quiet breath. She hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements.

“I’ll move in with Laura for the night,” Kate said.

“Or you can sleep in my spare room, Granny,” Bree offered.

“Thank you, Bree. No need for a whirlwind in a teacup. Your spare room would be best. Then I won’t be putting anyone out.”

Natalie gritted her teeth. Normally she ignored Olive’s sulking, which had become worse since Clem died, but she wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

“Hello, Mum.” Milt strode in and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Milton, darling, don’t you smell nice.” Olive smiled at him with that adoring look reserved for her firstborn, her petulant look dispersed.

He took his seat at the top of the table.

“How’s the mustering going?” she asked and Milt filled her in on the day’s progress while Natalie rose to organise the meal.

Kate stepped up beside her. “I can help.”

“There’s no need.”

“Plates or bowls?” Kate stood her ground, opened the crockery cupboard and looked back, eyebrows raised.