Free Ruby of Kettle Farm by Lucia Masciullo

went on. Ruby just had time to see that Dad was chatting to Mr and Mrs West before she went backstage with the others to change.
    â€˜I’ll never wear my Cinderella dress again,’ she said to May. ‘But I know someone who should.’
    When she was in her ordinary clothes again, she searched through the crowd until she found Josie. ‘This is for you,’ she said. ‘It’s too big for you now, but one day you’ll be able to wear it, and then you can be a real fairy princess.’ She pushed the dress into her arms.
    Josie gazed at the silky bundle, and her pale face grew pinker and pinker.
    â€˜That’s real nice of you, Ruby,’ said Mrs West. ‘You’re a lucky girl, Josie. What do you say?’
    Josie looked up at Ruby with shining eyes. ‘Ta,’ she said.

    At the prize-giving, special book prizes were given to May, as top senior girl, and Eric, as top senior boy. Bob was awarded the woodwork prize, and Lorna the prize for needlework. All the Grade Sevens who had sat for the Qualifying Certificate exam received their certificates, a handshake and a ‘Well done!’ from Mr Miller.
    â€˜You’ll get your certificate next year,’ Ruby told Cynthia. ‘I know you will.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ Cynthia said. ‘When we get to Mount Gambier I’ll have to find someone who’ll boss me around like you did.’ She gave Ruby a hug. ‘I’ll miss you.’
    â€˜You could always write to me,’ said Ruby.
    Cynthia grinned, and this time she didn’t cover her mouth as she usually did. ‘I just might.’
    A Christmas tree decorated with coloured streamers and tinsel had been put up at the foot of the stage. Next to it, holding a bulging sack, stood Father Christmas in a false white beard. Ruby listened as the children’s names were called out, starting with the babies. One by one they went up to receive their presents – puzzles and board games, spinning tops and hairbrushes, bird whistles and bead bracelets. Every Grade Seven girl was given a box of embroidered handkerchiefs, and every Grade Seven boy was given a pocketknife.
    Afterwards Ruby, May and Bee joined the rest of the family, and everyone had a rather warm cool drink and a rather melted ice-cream.
    â€˜It’s hard to believe we’re leaving primary school,’ said May. ‘I’ll miss it so much.’
    â€˜I’ll miss it too,’ Ruby said. She was silent for a moment, remembering something her form mistress, Miss Fraser, had said to her at the start of the year.
There is no night so dark that the morning never comes. The sun will always rise. Always.
    She licked up the last drop of ice-cream. ‘It’s been an awfully strange year, hasn’t it, May? Some of it was horrible and some of it was marvellous. But I know that from now on everything is going to be utterly, utterly perfect.’

My great-grandfather on my father’s side was a farmer in Somerset, England. In 1856 he emigrated to South Australia, making his home in a beautiful place called Eden Valley. One of his nine children was my grandfather. He was a farmer, too, and so was my father. My brother and I grew up on the family farm. Its paddocks and orchards, its gum trees and its winding creek were our playground.
    I loved the little local school I went to for seven years, but when I was twelve I had to leave home to go to a different school. Unlike Ruby, who moves from the city to the country, I moved from the country to the city. I live in the city now, but I still think of Eden Valley as home.

I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.
    In 2006, I packed up my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.
    And I liked it right from the