Jack had heard about the heavy rains and the terrible heat from other Australians, and wondered how his daughter would cope after being used to the gentle warmth and soft rain of England. But that was something he’d worry about another time. For now he was more interested in the young couple’s plans for making a living.

‘So, if you find the right property and build the sheds and workshop, what will you do with them?’ he asked.

‘Rita and I have talked long and hard about setting up a business, much like yours, mending cars, trucks, bikes, farm machinery, and anything else that has an engine. We’d get a couple of reliable utes so we could travel to the customers if need be, but the bulk of the work would be done on our property.’

He turned to look at Jack. ‘There’s a big call for good, hard-working mechanics over there, and if you fancy joining us, I can guarantee you won’t regret it, Jack.’

‘It’s thoughtful of you to offer, but I’ve already told Rita that Australia’s not for me,’ he replied. He nodded towards the view. ‘Those green fields and rolling hills are what gladden my heart, Peter. They mean home, and it’s here that I’ll stay.’

‘I can understand that, Jack. I feel the same about Queensland. But I know Rita’s feeling sad and guilty at the thought of leaving you behind. Won’t you reconsider? For her sake?’

Jack watched his cigarette smoke blow away on the gentle breeze. ‘I could ask you the same question, Peter. Why don’t you reconsider?’

Peter frowned. ‘I don’t get your drift, mate.’

‘Why don’t you stay and make a life with Rita in Cliffehaven instead of asking her to give up everything she has here?’

‘We did think about it, very seriously,’ Peter admitted, ‘and I was prepared to go along with whatever Rita decided, because it’s important that she’s happy. But having talked it over for many hours, we both realised there aren’t the same opportunities here to buy a large property with enough land to set up the business we dreamed about.’

Peter stretched out his bad leg and shot Jack a rueful smile. ‘You’ve got to admit, mate, poor old England is grey and exhausted from six years of war. She’s battered and bruised, and is only just clinging on to that Bulldog spirit as she struggles to recover. Rita and I want to start our lives together in the sun where the colours are vivid, hope is alive, rationing isn’t so harsh, and there are few reminders of the war.’