Outback Boss, City Bride

CHAPTER SIX

IT MIGHT not be sensible but at least it would be something to do, Meredith thought the next morning as she carried a bucket of scraps out to the chickens, who had a large fenced run on the far side of the yard. Spotting her, they came rushing to meet her, ruffling their feathers and tumbling over in their haste.

What was she doing here? Meredith wondered. All those qualifications had got her to this point, tossing scraps to chickens in the middle of the Australian outback. The heat was crushing. Shaking out the bucket, she left the chooks to it and closed the gate behind her, walking slowly back across the yard, not at all charmed by the chickens or the dogs chained up in the shade.

It was too hot and there were too many flies. She waved them irritably from her face. It must be hundreds of miles to the nearest bar. The pub at Whyman’s Creek didn’t count. She was thinking of somewhere cool and smart where she could sit back and enjoy a frosted glass of white wine.

Here, there was just…nothing. Miles and miles and miles of nothing beneath the glaring sky. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, if one didn’t count Emma and Mickey, who could rarely be persuaded to lift their heads up from their computer games. The air was filled with the raucous cawing of crows, their cries falling mournfully into the thrumming silence.

She had been up since five to prepare breakfast. It had been a silent meal, but that was hardly surprising at that hour. Even so, Meredith had been uncomfortably aware of Hal. She had spent far more time than was necessary last night reminding herself how sensible she was in not getting involved with him.

She was attracted to him-Meredith was never less than honest with herself-but she simply couldn’t account for it. Hal wasn’t her type at all.

Richard was the kind of man she had always been attracted to, and Hal was nothing like him. Richard had twinkling brown eyes and a lovely smile. Hal’s eyes were keen and hard, his smile elusive, but he had a mouth that for some reason dried the breath in Meredith’s throat whenever her eyes rested on it.

Richard was charming and sensitive and not afraid to talk about his feelings. Hal was cool and self-contained. In fact, when he wasn’t there, Meredith could almost persuade herself that she didn’t really find him that attractive, but all he had to do was walk through that screen door and take off his hat and her heart would perform sickening somersaults while every sense in her body tautened as if she were walking a tightrope. Yes, thought Meredith wryly, her body was a regular circus routine when Hal was around.

Still, that was no reason to fall into bed with him. Hal belonged in this strange, red land under this immense sky and she…well, she didn’t.

Meredith looked around her. Overlooked by the kitchen, the dusty yard was shaded by a big gum-tree, where the dogs drowsed in the shade, and framed by an odd assortment of out-buildings, whose purpose was obscure, at least as far as Meredith was concerned. There were a couple of huge water tanks, the chicken run and a rickety wind tower, its arms unmoving in the still, shimmering heat. To Meredith, city girl incarnate, it was all profoundly alien.

Australia was so big it was almost scary. The space and the light were so overwhelming that she was afraid that she would lose herself, crushed by the heat and the eerie silence. Meredith could practically feel herself diminishing, and she didn’t like it. She liked to be in control of things, but how could she control this huge, wild place?

She had hardly given Lucy or Richard a thought either, she had realised guiltily last night. The sense of urgency that had possessed her since Richard’s accident had deserted her since she had arrived at Wirrindago. She really must check her email. Lucy had promised that she would let her know when she was safely back in London.

Swinging the empty scrap bucket, Meredith climbed the steps to the kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose. It was high time she set up her computer and got down to some work too. It would be easier then to remember who she was and what she was doing here.

But she had to clean that office first. If she opened her laptop in there now it would be choked in dust in five minutes. There was no way she could work in that mess. Hal would probably have a fit, but she didn’t care. It wouldn’t kill him to have one tidy room.

With everything under control in the kitchen, Meredith rolled up her sleeves and prepared to get dirty. The desk was piled so high with papers that she could hardly see the phone, and the desktop computer was shrouded in dust. She wiped it down, unimpressed. She had seen more up-to-date technology in a museum. Thank God she had brought her laptop with her.

Fine red dust lay in thick layers over everything. Meredith’s eyes were soon watery from sneezing, and she was very glad of Hal’s shirt which, disturbing or not, kept the worst of the dirt from her own clothes. She would have to borrow another so that she could wash this one.

Mindful of Hal’s reaction to her removal of the old magazines from the veranda yesterday, Meredith was careful not to throw anything away, but she tidied and straightened and did her best to put everything in date order. Methodically, she worked through pile after pile of assorted papers and, in spite of not knowing anything about station business, she thought she did a pretty good job of sorting it out. Everything that looked similar she stacked together in date order, her eyebrows climbing as she saw some papers going back twenty-five years. Didn’t these people understand the notion of filing?

It was the kind of job that appealed to Meredith’s organised nature and, although she tutted, she secretly enjoyed restoring order. When it was tidy, the office would be a great place to work, she decided. On a corner, it had one window that looked out over the kitchen yard and another with a view of the garden and the lemon tree she had been so thrilled to see. A bright pink bougainvillaea scrambled over a pergola built into the garden, keeping the room cool and shady without cutting out too much of the light, and it was very quiet.

Yes, she could happily work here, Meredith thought.

She was sitting on the floor, sorting through an old cardboard box which had clearly functioned as a rudimentary filing drawer, when Hal came in, and her heart promptly began its usual impression of a trapeze artist.

Look! Up it soared into the air to perform-gasp!-a triple somersault before catching on to a pair of ankles just in time and-yes!-managing a neat flip before settling into a breathless swing from one side of her chest to another.

Desperately hoping that her internal acrobatics didn’t show in her face, Meredith did her best to keep her expression cool. ‘Hi,’ she said, delighted at how casual she sounded.

Hal was staring suspiciously around the office. ‘What are you doing in here?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious,’ she said. ‘I’m tidying up. You told me I could,’ she reminded him before he could object. ‘“Knock yourself out”, you said. And you don’t need to panic,’ she added, correctly interpreting his expression of dismay. ‘I haven’t thrown anything away! But there is a pile of stuff over there that looks like complete junk to me.’ She pointed. ‘Since you’re here, could you please check it and take out anything you want to keep? The rest is going in the incinerator.’

‘I’ll never be able to find anything again!’ grumbled Hal, but he didn’t actually tell her to put everything back as he had done the day before.

Encouraged, Meredith scrambled to her feet. ‘Nonsense, you’ve got a system now,’ she said and showed him how she had arranged things into piles. ‘You know, if you invested in a couple of decent filing cabinets, you could get all this stuff out of the way.’

Hal’s down-turned mouth showed how much he thought of that suggestion, but he did pick up the first few papers from the junk pile and flicked through them briefly before tossing them aside. ‘They can be burnt.’

Just as Meredith had thought, in fact.

Hal picked up another sheaf of papers. ‘Why are you so determined to reorganise me?’ he asked.

‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ Meredith pointed out astringently. ‘I can’t work in the kind of mess this office was in. I wanted to use the computer to check my email in case Lucy had been in touch, but it took me an hour just to find the keyboard! A tidy office is just a bonus for you. You ought to be grateful.’

‘Funnily enough, grateful is not what I feel when I find my home is being turned upside down,’ said Hal, discarding another handful, but he wasn’t really cross.

The truth was that he didn’t really know how he felt. It certainly wasn’t grateful. When he saw her sitting on the floor, her face smudged with dirt, with those dark, beautiful eyes and that curving mouth and his shirt caressing her generous curves…no, grateful wasn’t the word.

He couldn’t get used to how someone who looked so warm and soft and sexy could so often sound so tart and be so briskly competent. It made for an arresting combination and Hal wished that he hadn’t blown it yesterday by so casually suggesting a temporary relationship to her. He had handled it badly, but he had been thrown as ever by the disjunction between the way Meredith looked and the way Meredith actually was.

He found her exasperating and intriguing and seductive and sometimes downright infuriating. She was interfering and managing and uncompromising, but…he liked her, Hal realised. He liked her intelligence and her sharp tongue. He liked the combative lift of her chin and the challenge in her eyes and the way she rolled up her sleeves and got on with what had to be done. He liked coming into the homestead and finding her there, her mouth turned down in disapproval at the state of things. Look at him now, coming to find her on the flimsiest of pretexts when he should still be out in the yards.

It was all a bit unexpected. Hal had been prepared to dismiss her as a shallow city girl. He had wanted to disapprove of her-and in lots of ways he did-but the liking had crept up on him in spite of everything she did that infuriated him, in spite of the fact that they had absolutely nothing in common.

Hal couldn’t help thinking that the next few weeks would be a lot easier if he didn’t like her.

‘Did you hear from Lucy?’ he asked, feeling the fool that Meredith obviously thought him.

Meredith nodded. ‘Yes, just a quick message to say that she had arrived, but she hasn’t been to see Richard yet. She seems to be staying with Guy.’ There was a crease between her brows as she sat down on the revolving chair by the desk and bit her lip. ‘That’s my fault.’

‘Why?’ Hal’s voice was unnecessarily harsh, but he had to distract himself somehow from the way she was chewing her lip, unaware of the effect it might be having on anyone else. Him, for instance.

‘I completely forgot to give her the keys to my house.’

‘I still don’t understand why it’s your fault.’

‘Well…because Lucy hasn’t got anywhere else to stay in London,’ Meredith explained. ‘She gave up the house she was sharing when she left for Australia. I had it all planned that Lucy could stay in my house, and now she can’t.’

‘Will Lucy be saying that it’s her fault that she forgot to ask you for the key?’ asked Hal.

‘No…probably not,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘Why do you assume that Lucy can’t do anything for herself?’

‘I don’t!’

‘Lucy would have organised her own flight if you and Guy had let her,’ Hal said. ‘She’s perfectly capable, but you treat her like a child.’

Meredith bridled. ‘I do not!’

‘Don’t you? I’m not surprised that Lucy wanted to come out to Australia and live her own life,’ he said in the same hard voice, ‘and you can’t even let her do that on her own.’

‘That’s rubbish!’ Meredith pushed her hair angrily away from her face, leaving another smear of dust on her cheek. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Richard’s accident.’

‘Yes, and whose idea was it to come and get her to go back? Who made sure it happened, even when Lucy didn’t particularly want to go?’

Hal didn’t know why he was pushing her so hard. He had a nasty feeling it was to punish her in some way for always taking charge, for leaving him out of control, and he regretted it when he saw that Meredith was staring at him, appalled, the violet blue eyes clouded with distress.

‘Is that how it seems?’ she said, and her voice sounded suddenly small.

Hal felt terrible. He wanted to take back what he had said, but he couldn’t, not now. ‘Lucy can look after herself, you know, Meredith,’ he said more gently.

‘I know, it’s just…’ Meredith sighed, realising too late how controlling she had been. Poor Lucy. Had she really come all the way to Australia to get away from her? It was a horrible thought.

‘I suppose I’ve always been used to looking after her,’ she said slowly, trying to explain. ‘I was always big sister, and she was little sister, and she felt like my responsibility, especially when we had to go to boarding school.’ Her mouth twisted at the memory. ‘Lucy was only seven, poor little kid.’

Hal hooked a stool out with his foot and sat down on it, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘How old were you?’

‘Nine.’

Nine. The same age as Emma. She had just been a little girl. ‘You were a poor little kid too, then,’ he said.

Meredith half smiled. ‘I can see that now, but at the time I felt much older than Lucy. I just knew that I had to look after her.’

‘You were a bit young for boarding school, weren’t you?’ he said curiously. ‘We had to go away to school too, but not that early.’

‘It was just the way things worked out.’ She straightened the edges of a pile of bills on the desk. ‘My father worked for an oil company and he was often posted overseas in places that weren’t suitable for children. He remarried a few years after our mother died and understandably our stepmother didn’t want to stay at home with two small children who weren’t even her own, so the next time he was posted she went with him and Lucy and I were sent away to school.’

Hal frowned. ‘That must have been hard for you. You can’t have been very pleased when your father remarried.’

‘I just accepted it. I was only five when my mother died and I don’t really remember her, to tell you the truth. I’ve got an impression of her more than anything else…her perfume, how thrilled I was when she used to come in and kiss us goodnight when she was all dressed up to go out. We’ve got some photos, though, and we know that she loved us. That means a lot.

‘And Fay isn’t a wicked stepmother,’ she told Hal. ‘She really loves Dad, and she’s a great expatriate wife. We’d go out in the holidays-we used to like travelling as unaccompanied minors-or she and Dad would come back to the UK, and she was always nice to us. It’s not like we had a tragic life or anything.’

Maybe not, but Hal didn’t think that losing your mother at five and being sent away to school at nine sounded like much of a childhood either.

‘It can’t have been much fun going to boarding school at that age,’ he said, and Meredith grimaced.

‘No, it was terrible at first,’ she agreed, her hands stilling at last. ‘I didn’t really understand what was happening. I mean, they’d told us about school, and I thought it sounded quite exciting until I realised that my father was actually going to go away and leave us there. I thought we were going on a visit and then we’d be able to go home with him.’

She smiled sadly at her childish innocence. ‘I was about to get into the car when my father told me I had to stay. He said I had to be a good girl and not cry, as I had to look after Lucy for him…so that’s what I did.’ She gave a little sigh, remembering. ‘I guess that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.’

‘Poor kid,’ said Hal quietly. He had hated being sent away to school at twelve and he knew how desolate it could feel when you were left on your own.

‘I’ll never forget watching my father drive away that day,’ said Meredith. ‘I can still feel Lucy’s sticky little hand in mine and wishing I could let it go and run after him. I kept telling myself that he’d stop and turn round and tell us it was all a mistake, but it wasn’t. He didn’t come back.’ She shook her head with pity for her smaller self.

‘Lucy was crying. She didn’t understand what was happening either, and all I could do was hold on to what my father had told me. So I kept telling her that everything would be all right, and that I’d look after her. And I didn’t let myself cry, in case that upset her even more.’

Hal’s throat ached at the thought of the sturdy little girl, abandoned in a strange place, holding on to her little sister, her mouth trembling with the effort of not crying.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Oh, don’t be.’ Embarrassed at having fallen into something very close to self-pity, Meredith was once more all briskness. ‘It wasn’t so bad.’ She made the bills into a neat pile and put them to one side before pulling a set of incomprehensible veterinary notes towards her. ‘We got used to it eventually, and in lots of ways it was easier for me because I had Lucy to look after. I was so busy making sure that she was OK that I didn’t have time to think about myself.’

She glanced at Hal. ‘I can cope with anything as long as I have something to do,’ she told him, ‘but yes, you’re probably right. I do look after Lucy too much. It’s second nature now. We used to fly out to see our father and stepmother in the holidays and it was always me that had to think about tickets and getting to the airport on time when we were old enough to travel unaccompanied.’

‘No wonder you’re so sensible now,’ he said, returning to his own task of going through the junk pile.

‘I sometimes wish I could be reckless and interesting and exciting,’ she confessed, ‘but I just can’t be.’

Hal thought she had looked pretty exciting in the high heels she had worn the night before, but decided he had better not say so.

‘Do you ever try?’ he asked instead.

‘Of course not,’ said Meredith primly. ‘I’m much too sensible for that!’

They both laughed, then both realised at the same time that it had been a mistake to let their eyes meet like that. The air was suddenly tight between them and there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room to breathe properly.

So much for being sensible! With an effort, Meredith wrenched her eyes away from Hal’s and concentrated on taking a proper breath, something that had never presented her with any difficulties before.

Mindlessly, she tidied another pile of papers and sought desperately for something to say to break the fizzing tension. Her gaze skittered around the room, resting on anything except Hal, falling at last on the creased photograph that she had pulled out of the cardboard box earlier and propped against the computer. Meredith reached for it, seizing on the change of subject.

‘Talking of being children, I meant to ask you about this,’ she said, swinging round on the chair and leaning forward to show him the picture without actually meeting his eyes. ‘It’s a lovely photo. Is that you on the right?’

The lingering smile was wiped from Hal’s face. ‘Where did you get that?’

His voice was like a lash and Meredith jerked back in surprise. She had wanted to change the atmosphere, but she hadn’t counted on such spectacular success. The temperature in the room had plummeted and when she looked at Hal’s expression she felt suddenly cold. What had she done?

Puzzled, she looked down at the photo. What was there in it to provoke such a reaction? It was just a happy family shot.

‘In that box,’ she said, pointing. ‘There was a load of rubbish in there, but I couldn’t throw it away. I thought Emma and Mickey might like to see their mum as a little girl. I presume that’s her in the middle?’ She tried a smile to lighten the atmosphere. ‘And who’s the little boy with the cheeky grin? I didn’t realise-what are you doing?’

Her voice rose and she snatched the picture back from Hal, who had reached over to take it and was about to tear it in half.

‘You can’t do that!’ she said, holding the photo protectively and staring at him in disbelief.

‘I don’t want it.’ She had never seen his expression that cold. ‘It’s just junk.’

‘But it’s your family!’

‘Look, it’s none of your business!’ Hal lost control of his temper. ‘It doesn’t matter who it is or what it is. It’s nothing to do with you.’ He glared at her. ‘Why can’t you just leave things alone?’

‘But-’

‘You could have cleared a space for your computer and got on with your own work,’ he went on furiously. ‘But no! You couldn’t do anything as simple as that, could you? You always have to interfere. You have to poke around in things that don’t concern you,’ he said, practically spitting.

Shaken by his anger, Meredith moistened her lips. ‘I’ve obviously touched a nerve,’ she said carefully, still not really understanding what she had done.

‘Too right you have!’ Suddenly needing only to get out, Hal swung for the door. ‘Keep the bloody photo if it matters so much to you,’ he snarled, kicking the stool out of his way. ‘But don’t show it to me again. I don’t want it.’

Meredith sat very still after he had gone. She heard the screen door slam and the angry clatter of his boots down the kitchen steps. Seconds later he appeared striding across the yard, his body rigid. Watching him through the window, Meredith bit her lip as he disappeared in the direction of the paddock where the horses were kept. This was her fault.

Carefully, she smoothed out the crumpled photo. It showed a family squinting at the camera, like thousands of other families before them. The man looked so like Hal that he had to be his father, so that, thought Meredith, turning her attention to the woman, had to be his mother. She had been a beautiful woman and obviously very stylish. Meredith could imagine her in that sitting room, if not in the kitchen or on the scruffy veranda.

Hal looked about twelve, so his mother must have died not long after the picture had been taken. Was that what had upset him so much?

Meredith sighed as she stared down at the faces, their smiles frozen in time. Hal was right. It was none of her business and she shouldn’t have poked around in his private papers, but it had seemed such a happy picture. She had never dreamt that he wouldn’t be glad to see it.

He had listened so sympathetically when she had been talking about her childhood, too. Meredith had found herself talking easily, and it had almost been like finding a friend. Now she had spoilt everything.

Depressed, she looked at her watch and got to her feet when she saw the time. She would apologise to Hal later, and would just have to hope that it wasn’t too late. In the meantime, there were potatoes to be peeled.

She left the photo by the computer. It wasn’t hers to keep. If Hal wanted to destroy it, that was his choice, but she wouldn’t tear it up for him.

Meredith hoped all evening for a chance to tell Hal how sorry she was, but they were never alone and she knew better than to raise the subject with anyone else there. Emma and Mickey had taken to hanging around in the kitchen, and by the time Meredith had changed into her evening clothes, the stockmen were having a beer with Hal.

Hal himself had recovered his temper, but Meredith could see that he was withdrawn and the grey eyes were shuttered. When he turned down her offer to help with the clearing up after the meal, she decided that it might be better to leave it. If Hal didn’t want to talk, she shouldn’t make him. For once, she wouldn’t interfere or do what she thought was best, she thought, remembering how his comments about the way she treated Lucy had stung.

Instead, she would do some work.

The office was less inviting at night. Meredith tried to ignore the blank black windows and set up her laptop, averting her eyes from the photograph that had caused so much trouble that afternoon. Downloading her emails meant unplugging the phone, plugging in her laptop and dialing the Internet, a long process that had her remembering broadband at her house in London with affection.

She was just plugging the phone in once more when the door opened and Hal came in with a mug of coffee for her. ‘I thought you’d like this if you’re going to work,’ he said.

‘Oh…thank you.’ Having waited all evening for a chance to talk to him, Meredith found herself suddenly tongue-tied.

She could see the photo still propped against the base of the desktop computer and wished that she had put it away. It felt as if there were a flashing neon arrow pointing at it, reminding Hal of her interference. She went to sit back on the chair, where her body would partly obscure the picture, but it was too late. Hal had already seen it.

‘Hal, I’m sorry-’ she began, but he interrupted her.

‘No, I’m the one that’s sorry,’ he said. ‘I overreacted earlier. I haven’t seen a picture of my mother for over twenty years. I thought my father had destroyed them all and it was a shock to suddenly see her again.’

He took a breath, knowing that it would be impossible to explain to Meredith just how much of a shock it had been to come face to face with the past without warning like that. ‘I took it out on you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I shouldn’t have been looking through your papers,’ Meredith apologised in her turn. ‘You were right; it was none of my business.’

‘I’ve never looked in that box,’ he told her. ‘It must have been my father’s.’

Reaching past Meredith, Hal picked up the photograph and stood looking down at it, his mouth twisted. ‘I wonder why he kept this.’

It seemed obvious to Meredith. ‘It’s a lovely picture.’ She hesitated. ‘Your mother was very pretty.’

‘Yes, she was that,’ Hal agreed bitterly.

‘Why would your father destroy all pictures of her?’ asked Meredith. The pictures she and Lucy had of their own mother were their most treasured possessions. ‘It seems a terrible thing to do.’

‘As terrible as destroying a family?’ Hal dropped the picture back on the desk. ‘That’s what she did.’

‘Your mother?’ she said, startled. ‘But…I thought she died.’

‘No, she didn’t die,’ said Hal, a muscle beating in his clenched jaw. ‘She’s alive and well and living in Sydney, apparently. I haven’t seen her since she walked away from Wirrindago when I was twelve. She didn’t even say goodbye. She just left Dad a note, got into the ute and drove herself to Whyman’s Creek one day. Dad had to go and collect it from the airport after she’d gone.’

Meredith stared at him, shocked. ‘She abandoned you?’

‘She abandoned us all. Lydia was only nine.’

The same age she had been when she had been left at boarding school, Meredith thought. She had felt abandoned then, but what if it had been her own mother who had walked out on her? Meredith couldn’t imagine it. She couldn’t imagine leaving her own children.

‘Jack was ten,’ he went on, and she remembered the little boy with the cheeky grin.

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes,’ said Hal, but he didn’t elaborate.

‘Do…do you know why she went?’ she asked after a moment.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘She was bored.’

‘Bored?’

Hal raised an eyebrow at her incredulous expression. ‘I would have thought that you of all people would understand. You’re a city girl too. You don’t like the heat and the flies and the loneliness.’

‘No,’ Meredith agreed, stung by the implication that she would understand walking out on a family. ‘But I’m not married to you and I don’t have three children!’

‘True,’ he conceded. He leant back against the desk and picked up the picture once more, holding it as if he were fascinated and yet hated it at the same time. ‘Well, it was too much for my mother.’

He studied his mother’s face. He had forgotten how young and pretty she had been. ‘She should never have married my father in the first place. She was from Brisbane. They met at some outback ball and she fell in love with the idea of living on a cattle station, but year after year of the reality of it wore her down. Some years can be hard,’ he told Meredith. ‘She missed having friends and complained that my father and the men only talked about cattle and horses, which they probably did.’

‘But what about you? Her children?’ Meredith was still struggling with the idea that anyone could walk away from their children. ‘Didn’t she want you to go with her?’

Hal glanced up at her then, his grey eyes hard with the memory. ‘We would have cramped her style,’ he said. ‘She’d been going on longer and longer visits to her family, which turned out to be just a cover for meeting up with an old boyfriend. They moved to Sydney together-got married eventually-and they wouldn’t have wanted three half-wild kids around. Besides,’ he said, ‘we wouldn’t have gone. We couldn’t imagine living in a city. Wirrindago was all we knew.’

Meredith was silent. It was easier to understand now why Hal was so determined not to get married. He wasn’t prepared to take the risk of being abandoned again, the way he had been as a boy.

‘It must have been very hard for you all,’ she said after a while. ‘How did your father cope?’

‘Badly.’

‘And you?’ she asked gently.

Hal’s eyes went back to the picture, but this time he wasn’t looking at his mother. He was looking at the children with their bright, confident faces, unclouded by any suspicion that the world they knew could ever end.

‘We thought we were OK,’ he said. ‘After Mum left, Dad let things slip, and we were allowed to do what we wanted. For a while it was almost like a holiday.’

He remembered those days so clearly. The freedom they had once longed for had been terrifying now, but they’d stayed out as long as they could, finding more and more dangerous things to do because they hadn’t wanted to go home. They hadn’t wanted to see the expression in their father’s eyes, or think about the empty place at the table where their mother had sat. She had been away often, as he had told Meredith, but this time her absence had been like a cold, heavy stone in his stomach.

‘You must have missed her,’ said Meredith. Children were programmed to adore their mothers, however little they might deserve it.

‘I suppose we did,’ Hal said slowly. ‘Jack certainly did. He’d been her favourite. He never talked about it, but I don’t think he ever got over the way Mum left without saying goodbye to him. He thought that if he could just go and find her, he could make her come back and everything would be all right again.’ Hal’s face twisted. ‘He was only a kid. He didn’t know.’

At the look on Hal’s face, dread began to pool in Meredith’s stomach. ‘What happened?’ she whispered.

‘One day he ran away to try and find her. He had a plan, he said. He left a note and everything.’ Hal’s voice was very bleak, very controlled. ‘He sneaked on to a road train. The driver didn’t have a clue until they unloaded and found his body in with the cattle. They think he suffocated.’