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Fleur stared at her husband before nodding. ‘You’re right. And for me it’s second nature, so I struggle to put myself into their shoes and feel what they fear.’

‘There you go. That’s how bushies feel about snakes, spiders, scorpions and so on.’

‘I think you’re one of the most insightful people I’ve ever known, Tom.’

He looked around, smiling shyly at the compliment. ‘When you’re raised in a place like this – a place that guards the knowledge of the world – and pay attention to it, then I guess it helps shape your judgement.’

Fleur gave a smile, wide and full of loving warmth. ‘I adore the romantic way you think.’

The foghorn sounded again, closer this time. ‘Is that the train?’ she demanded, frowning.

‘Yes, the one from Adelaide. As a boy I’d wait for that sound, sitting in the coolabah, and the moment I heard it this close I’d begin to run . . . like this!’ He took off, one hand clasped to his hat, the other grasping her hand. ‘Come on!’

Fleur let out a shriek of amusement. ‘Why?’ she said and was so glad she’d worn the flattest of her shoes.

‘Because it was ritual for me,’ he said as they galloped along. ‘I had to arrive as the train went past and feel all the breath it brought, hundreds of miles from the big city,’ he yelled. ‘I used to believe it brought voices and amusement, tears and secrets. Come on, Fleur, faster . . . Can you do it?’

‘I told you – pregnant, not incapable!’ She increased her stride to match his, although she knew he was letting her catch up and could probably go faster.

‘Jump!’ Tom called, and Fleur cackled with a laugh of the most carefree kind as they leapt in unison over a small cottonbush. Now she could see it, the steam train’s engine emerging into her view, and its horn sounded loudly once more. Perhaps the driver could see them, but even if he couldn’t, it sounded joyful, and their yells in response were full of welcome.

‘Faster, Fleur! I want you to feel it as it passes.’

She couldn’t believe she had the stamina to do so but somehow she found it within her, and they reached the tracks just as the huge metal beast powered past them.

Fleur watched Tom arch his back and close his eyes to the sky and she did the same, feeling the wallop of the air that the train pushed over them. Tom was wearing an almost dopey grin and she felt a rush of affection for this man, who had brought true love into her life, something she’d never thought would happen for her. And he’d brought new life into hers with the baby nestling and growing within.

And as the roar of the train continued towards the final yards of its track, Fleur felt her own sense of power bloom inside, and an awakening to a new knowledge.

Finally, she alone was in charge of her life.

She would never think of herself as an orphan again. She would never seek permission to do as she wished, because decisions were now hers to make. In less than a year, life had tipped dramatically. She was a wife, soon to be a mother. She was the owner of her own business, and with it she was going to change the face of the industry that had kept her frozen out of its inner sanctum. She already knew women were going to turn the funeral industry on its head, for the better, and Fleur intended to be at the helm, driving that change.

And here, with the man she loved more than anything in the world, clasping his hand as they ran across this timeless land, she made the decision to live their life to the fullest. Life could be short – she knew that better than most – but she would not allow time to be stolen from them, and she would not allow herself to ever be too busy to recapture this moment of childlike abandon and pleasure. She felt in this moment that no endeavour, no wealth, no status and no reputation could ever match the feeling of wellbeing that loving someone and being loved in return brought.

The train passed them and Tom turned, his cheeks flushed with happiness. And as if the gods themselves had orchestrated it, they both lifted their faces to the sun and yelled into the roar of steam their own cries of sheer joy to be alive, to be together, and to belong to someone; orphans no more.