Natalie carried the teapot Laura had given her for Christmas with the rest of the tea-making items on a tray and came back to the table. Colour had risen in Olive’s cheeks. Natalie put milk in a cup and poured, passing the tea on to Olive who took it with an aggrieved smile.

“Your sister thinks her inheritance is much less than the farm is worth.”

“Oh she does, does she?” Milt placed his hands on the table. He wasn’t a violent man but the firmness of it made the cups rattle on their saucers. “Dad paid her out when she left to go to university. She always said she never wanted to work on the farm.”

“I suppose in those days your father and I always encouraged you to take on the property. It’s different these days for girls.”

Natalie thought about that. The future of the property was a topic she and Milt had discussed between themselves and with their girls after Clem had died, but there was no firm plan in place yet. They’d given Bree, the only one interested in running the property, a few years to decide what she wanted and they had discussed ways of making it fair for the other two, but it wasn’t settled by any means. She wondered what would have happened if one of their children had been a boy. An image of Jack sitting at their dinner table chilled her heart. Milt had been so at ease with him, so welcoming. And why was Olive so curious about Jack’s attendance at their table?

“Dad was generous to Connie on many occasions over the years.” Milt’s face was drawn, but in his eyes a fire smouldered. “Their family holiday to America and Disneyland, for instance.”

Natalie gasped. Connie and her family had made that trip with their three boys when they’d all been primary-school age. She remembered thinking they must have been doing all right to afford it. “We paid for that?”

“Some of it,” Olive said.

“Most of it.” Milt’s gaze was locked on his mother. She twisted her teacup on its saucer.

Natalie recalled that trip. It had been before she’d taken over the farm bookkeeping and around the time she’d tried to convince Milt and Clem she wanted an en suite. There’d also been talk of a short holiday to Queensland. Neither of those things had happened but Connie’s family had gone to America.

“Your father was always conscious that Connie would get less,” Olive said.

Milt shook his head. “They went at a time when we’d just struggled through several years of low rainfall, Mum. It was me—” he stabbed at his chest “—working for virtually no wage that pulled us through and gave Connie’s family a holiday. My family didn’t have one.”