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‘He’s getting better, and he is a strong man like his father was. He’s healing, I know he is.’ She looked away and stared at the wall, but kept a tight grip on Ellie’s hand. ‘I almost lost him, you know. I’ll never forget the night our phone rang and it was his commander, telling me his helicopter had been shot down. I thought he was dead.’

Ellie stared at Susan as Kane’s refusal to fly began to make sense. She should have guessed it was something like that.

‘He’s so worried about my health, but he won’t look after himself. And he’s a man. He refuses to accept that the death of his crew has damaged him.’

Death of his crew? A surge of sympathy rushed through Ellie and she blinked away the moisture that suddenly threatened her eyes.

‘He received a commendation, you know, before he was medically discharged. He carried one of his crew through hostile territory, even with a shattered hip.’ She lifted her face to Ellie’s. ‘She was dead before the helicopter hit the ground, but he still carried her out across the sand dunes.’

Oh fuck. No wonder he didn’t want to fly.

‘I didn’t know any of that.’ Ellie spoke slowly. ‘But it explains his limp.’

‘So.’ Susan sat back. ‘Knowing that he works with you has eased my mind. You’ll make a lovely friend for him, my dear.’ Susan’s cup landed in its saucer with a gentle tinkle.

A lovely friend. Just the sort of thing her mother would once have said, before the world became too difficult for her.

‘I’ll . . . I’ll look out for him.’ Ellie stood and carried both of their cups over to the old sink. She rinsed them and turned back to Susan.

‘I noticed the orchard has been let go. I wondered if your husband was going to revive it.’ She wasn’t going to tell her she’d spoken to Panos already.

‘No.’ Susan shook her head. ‘This is just somewhere for us to live for a while. Or it was supposed to be us. I’m afraid Panos doesn’t cope well with illness.’

Ellie’s heart went out to her. ‘Would you mind if I had a look around while I’m here? It’s been a long time since I’ve been back.’ She fiddled with the car keys in her pocket, feeling guilty for not being quite truthful. Well, it was the truth in a way.

‘Not at all.’ Susan stood and supported herself on the back of the chair. She looked so ill that Ellie wondered if she should really be here alone. ‘Feel free to have a look around. My husband is having a new dam built down the back, so you might find some workers down there. There’s been utes back and forth all morning. Tell them I said it was okay for you to go down there.’ Susan’s brow wrinkled and her lips pursed as she looked around the kitchen. ‘It would have been nicer to have a new kitchen instead of a new dam, but I suppose he thought there was no point.’ Her tone was resigned.

‘No point?’ Ellie reached out and put her hand over Susan’s on the back of the chair.

‘I’m dying, Ellie.’ Even though her voice was sad, there was a sense of stoic acceptance there. Ellie’s eyes filled with tears and an ache closed her throat at the next words to come from Susan’s mouth. ‘I haven’t told Kane what a short time I have left. He’s already been through so much. Please don’t tell him.’

Ellie caught her breath and this time the tears spilled over onto her cheek. ‘Should you be here alone?’

‘It’s the way things are.’ Susan reached over and wiped away the tear on Ellie’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. ‘I will tell him. But it really eases my mind to know that he will have a friend when my time comes. You’re a sweet girl, Ellie. You remind me very much of your mother.’

Ellie shoved the sealed cardboard carton into the boot of her car. Susan had taken her around to the laundry at the back of the house and pointed to a shelf above the double concrete tub.

‘This box was in the shed when we moved in. It had been shoved out there with some mango cartons, but it has your father’s name on the outside. They must have missed it when you moved. That’s one of the reasons I wrote to your mother.’ Susan covered her mouth and coughed again; a nasty rattling cough.

Ellie waited until she had caught her breath.

‘Can you take it to her? I don’t know what’s inside.’ Her breathing rasped around the words.

Ellie braced one hand on the old concrete tub as she reached up and tipped the edge of the small box, testing the weight. She levered the edge and balanced it on her palm until it slid off the shelf and she took a step back as she caught it. Dad’s loopy writing with the distinctive curl on the Ps stared back at her. Peter Porter. A childish giggle threatened. In their household the old nursery rhyme had always been ‘Peter Porter picked a peck of pickled peppers’. Ellie remembered how indignant Dru had been when she’d come home from school one afternoon and told Dad he had the rhyme wrong. He’d smiled his gentle smile and ruffled her hair.

‘Thank you.’ Ellie said to Susan. ‘I’ll tell Mum about it when I speak to her.’

But not before I look inside.

Susan had walked her back around to the front of the house and watched as she put the box in the boot. She stood there as Ellie opened her car door. ‘It was so sweet of you to call in. If you are going past again, I’d love to see you.’ She straightened, gripping the edges of her dressing gown together with her claw-like hands. ‘I know. Next time Kane comes over, perhaps you could come for a drive with him and I’ll cook dinner for both of you.’ Her face brightened as though the thought of having something purposeful to do pleased her.

The ache took a tighter hold on Ellie’s throat and she nodded. ‘I will.’

I haven’t told Kane what a short time I have left. He’s already been through so much. The love in Susan’s voice tore at Ellie’s composure. Life was bloody cruel.

The track to the back boundary had been recently graded. Ellie glanced to the side as she drove the three miles from the house through the orchard to the corner where the property was edged by the South Alligator River. The three small dams were full from the wet season just gone, and the brown water was dotted with an abundance of wild birds and whistling ducks. The irrigation pumps next to the dams were rusted, and the dead mango trees bore testament to the fact that the dams were no longer used for irrigation. Everything was dead and brown, including the thick tussock grass in the paddocks which was in need of a decent slash or burn – a cleaning of country. Ellie wished she could hop on a tractor and slash it herself, but those days were gone.

Her small sedan crested the hill that overlooked the final dam that was fed by the river. She drew in a gasp and hit the brakes. Pulling across to the side of the track, she opened the door slowly and put her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the late afternoon sun. The dam was bone dry. Huge cracks splintered the mud at its base. Old plastic containers littered the flat baked surface, exposed by the drying up of the water.