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Sandra tried to keep the sharpness from her voice, but failed. ‘Ellie McLaren. I am not a geriatric yet. I’ve still got four years before my sixtieth and I am going to do this walk. And if I want to, I’ll climb trees with James too.’

The silence around the table was tense until Emma’s soft voice chimed in. ‘Ellie, I think it’s a great idea. As long as you’re with a reputable company, and you’re supported, Mum, I think it sounds great.’

‘Tell us some more about it, Mum,’ Dru said. ‘It sounds good. I might even come with you.’

‘Oh no you won’t. Everyone wants to.’ She shook her head. ‘Even Frank, my financial adviser in Sydney suggested coming with me. And don’t go thinking I’m going to fall in a heap. I’ve been off any medication for over two years now, and I’m good. Sure, I get sad about your dad, but I’ve come to terms with it. Where do you think you girls got your strength from?’

‘Sorry, Mum. I know I worry too much. So, tell us all about it.’

‘I’ve got two choices. The one like you said, Ellie, where I have to carry a bit of stuff. But not a tent or all my water. There is another one I’d like to do that’s a little bit softer.’ Sandra glanced at Connor and chuckled. ‘More like glamping, but I don’t think I can justify the price of that one. I mean I can afford it, it’s just a lot of money to pay out for comfort.’

Dru looked across at Ellie, and they both nodded. Ellie nudged Emma and she nodded too.

‘That solves a problem for us. You pay for your trip and we’ll all pitch in for the upgrade for your birthday.’

‘Really? Well, I won’t say no, because I know if you’re helping me out, you approve of me going.’

‘Good, that’s settled then,’ Ellie said briskly. ‘Happy fifty-fifth birthday, Mum.’

‘Fifty-sixth,’ Sandra said.

Chapter 2

Sydney – Thursday, June 4

Graysen Hughes tipped the concierge as he walked into the foyer of the Intercontinental Hotel in Sydney. The guy had helped him carry his bags, cameras and tripod from the taxi earlier in the afternoon when Graysen had arrived from the airport. The young man had ensured that the equipment was safely sent to his room while Graysen went for a walk to Circular Quay. After eight hours confined in a plane on his connecting flight from Singapore, he needed fresh air and exercise. Even driving through the city from Mascot made him claustrophobic. He could have picked up a flight straight to Alice Springs, but he needed a couple of new lenses and filters for this photo shoot in the outback; it was much easier to pick them up directly from his supplier in Sydney.

‘Thank you. I didn’t have any Aussie cash before,’ Graysen said as he slipped a fifty dollar note into the young man’s hand.

‘Thank you, sir. There was no need to worry.’

Being called sir made Graysen feel every one of his fifty-seven years.

‘Where have you travelled from?’ The concierge walked across the large foyer with him as Graysen headed for the lift.

‘I’ve been in Nepal for a few months.’

‘Good to be home?’

Not really, Graysen thought, but he nodded. ‘Yes, it is. Thanks again for your help.’

‘Anything else you need, sir, just call down.’

Graysen paused as the lift door opened. ‘Actually, there is. I need secure storage for some of my luggage and most of my photographic equipment for a couple of weeks. I’m going on a trek in Central Australia, and I’m travelling lightly.’

Even though it was work, the trip to the centre was going to be the closest thing Graysen had had to a holiday since Marion passed away. There was no contract to fulfil, but he knew there would be a market for the photos he took as he trekked the Larapinta Trail. For the past five years, he’d worked nonstop in an attempt to bury his grief; he’d taken on back-to-back contracts and travelled the world, shooting from Antarctica to Africa. He and Marion had been together for thirty years, and it still felt as though part of him was missing.

He suspected that feeling would never leave him.

He’d spent the last few weeks in Kathmandu recovering from altitude sickness after an embarrassing evacuation.

‘I think you need an Everest taxi,’ the guide had told him when he’d begun to feel breathless at three and a half thousand metres.

‘A what?’ Graysen had asked crossly. His head was pounding and he felt like he was going to throw up.

‘A helicopter. Don’t worry, it won’t be long. There’s twenty-five companies that do the evacuations up here in our mountains. Altitude sickness is a common thing, even for the fit.’

‘What are the symptoms again?’ Graysen had read the literature and taken out the insurance, but his head was fuzzy.