The paddocks were golden at this time of the morning in early spring. Like scurrying children in fleecy pyjamas, the sheep moved in waves, reined in by Herb on the bike and the dogs circling the herd in a frenzy of barking. Sally straightened her apron and went back inside. She had the shearers’ breakfast to finish.

Half an hour later, Sally was covering a baking dish of scrambled eggs when the bang of the wire door announced Herb.

‘Bloody Millard hasn’t turned up again. Will you get on the phone and see where he is?’

Sally sighed. She had little time for Brett Millard. Unreliable shearers were the worst. When he turned up, Brett could match the other blokes sheep for sheep, but it fell to Sally to chase him when he was a no-show. Sometimes it was Brett’s wife, Shayna, who answered the phone. She’d apologise, exasperated, and say, Sorry, Sal! I’ll make sure he’s there tomorrow. Good shearer or not, Brett Millard was easily distracted; Shayna was the opposite. Worked up at the hospital. Backbone of the young family. Problem was, thought Sally as she dialled the number, men like Brett rarely improved with age—Shayna had a tough road ahead of her.

The landline at the Millard farmhouse rang for so long, Sally thought it would ring out. Then, just as she was about to replace the receiver, she heard a clunk. It sounded like the phone had been picked up and dropped.

‘Hello?’ said Sally.

More clunking and, finally, breathing.

‘Hello?’ she repeated. For a moment, she was worried.

‘Hello.’ The voice was very young. Probably little Crissy.

‘Crissy? Is that you? It’s Sally here from your dad’s work.’

‘Sally!’ Crissy sounded excited.

What was she now? Three? Four? Sally hadn’t seen her in a while. Shayna used to drop Brett off to work and stop in for a cuppa when Crissy was younger but hadn’t been by since she started working.

‘Is your mummy or daddy there?’

‘Yep.’ More clunking.

Sally didn’t have kids of her own and made her words slow and clear, like she was talking to someone hard of hearing. ‘Can you get them for me?’

‘They asleep,’ said the little girl.

Sally checked her watch. A little late for a lie-in, especially on a weekday. ‘Can you go and wake them?’

There was a wail on the other end of the line. ‘No! They won’t wake up.’

Sally’s heart beat a little faster. ‘Crissy, where are they?’

‘Mummy’s in bed but Daddy’s silly.’

‘What do you mean, Crissy? Why is Daddy silly?’

‘He’s sleeping in the kitchen. Silly Daddy.’

‘Where in the kitchen?’ Sally’s voice, suddenly urgent, made her husband look over at her, eyebrows raised.