After a couple of minutes she sank to her knees and gathered the little dog against her.

‘What’s his name?’ he asked, trying not to sound like the digging was as hard as it was.

‘Rusty.’

‘How did he lose his leg?’

‘Fire,’ she said harshly, and he glanced at the little dog in surprise. He’d lost his leg but he wasn’t otherwise scarred.

‘He was burned?’

‘Wasn’t everything around here?’ She hugged him closer and got another nose lick for her pains. ‘But Rusty was lucky-sort of. He was… I found him in the fireplace of…of where I lived. Over there.’ She motioned to the neighbouring property. ‘Part of the bricks had collapsed, trapping his leg, but otherwise he was okay. He was my dad’s Rusty. He’s just waiting ’til he comes home.’

Her voice broke. No more questions were allowed, Jake thought, while she struggled for control, so he kept right on digging.

It took time. Ten minutes. Fifteen. He wasn’t in a hurry. This was giving Tori time to catch her breath, figure if she wanted to tell him more.

There were cockatoos screeching in the gums about his head. Apart from the birds and the sound of the spade against the earth, there was nothing but silence.

What had happened to this woman? He shouldn’t ask, but finally he had to.

‘So who did you lose?’ he asked into the silence, and for a while he thought she wouldn’t answer.

Then, ‘My father and my sister,’ she said flatly, dreadfully. ‘My sister was eight months pregnant.’

Dear God, he thought helplessly. Where to take this from here? ‘You all lived over there?’ he tried.

‘We did. Micki… Margaret… My sister’s relationship had fallen apart and she’d come home, so she could have her baby with us. Toby and I were going to look after her for the first few weeks after the birth.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But then they died. Dad and Micki and Benedict. Benedict was Micki’s baby. A little boy. She was going to call him Benedict. I found Rusty three days later when I finally got back up here, but there was nothing else left. Nothing.’