At the top of this hill, on a little turnout, looking back out over the town behind us, was a white gazebo-style monument – a tower at the top and a hexagon of shaded seating at the bottom. Concrete steps led up from the road, and black iron lettering against the old white-rendered concrete of the gazebo read Pioneers’ Memorial, and in a little presentation box on the side of the memorial there were printed leaflets – the original 1933 brochure for the opening of the monument. I pulled one out and flipped it open.

This town, in common with other places, owes much to its pioneers, and that their efforts in giving birth to the town should gain recognition is only fitting.

‘Yeah, some old history buffs like to take it upon themselves to leave that up here. Educate us all about the good old days,’ said Basil, taking the pamphlet and tracing his fingers down the page. ‘Here, I’ll show you my favourite bit.’ He read out loud in the voice of an old Englishman:

‘“In a space of three-quarters of a century much has passed; old customs have changed; life generally has taken on a new perspective, and, above all, out of chaos there has been evolved a decent civilisation.”’

Basil laughed and shook his head. ‘Decent civilisation. Out of chaos. What the hell did they think we were already doing here? It’s pretty fucked up.’ He handed the pamphlet back to me. ‘Anyhow, it’s a pretty cool view,’ he said, standing. ‘Come on up.’ He started up the stairs of the tower and I climbed up after him. He was right, it was a beautiful view. The sun had begun to dip behind us, only a few hours of winter sunlight left, and the town was bathed in softness, the old 1880s buildings nestling against their backdrop like chickens against a hen.

‘Not that way,’ Basil said. ‘This way.’

I turned and looked away from the town, further to the west, where the sun was beginning to head to the horizon. A spread of forest lay between us and it.

‘That there,’ said Basil. ‘Look at that.’

I caught my breath. The sun was hitting every one of the millions of perpendicular ironbark leaves at a particular angle, sending each one shimmering back at me, and with a very light breeze gently undulating through the canopy it looked and sounded as though I was standing on the shore of a huge and glittering ocean.

‘That’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.’

‘Chaos, apparently. Anyway,’ Basil said, ‘this memorial’s bullshit, it was only the view I wanted to show you.’

‘Hey, Basil,’ I said, suddenly. ‘Did you know my mother had a little brother who died and my mum never told me?’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Bette told me they had a little boy once.’

‘Bette told you about Danny?’

‘You know about Danny?’

‘Yeah, I know about him.’ Basil was frowning at me.

‘Bette seemed pretty reluctant to talk about it. Though I guess you would be, when you had a son you loved who died . . .’