Free Sunset Ridge by Nicole Alexander Page B

numbers. Eventually they’ll be travelling abroad in cans to feed our boys on the front-line.’
    In spite of their financial improvement Lily felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach. It didn’t seem right to be benefitting when young men were dying abroad. And they were dying. The casualty lists were frightening.
    â€˜Also, this year I intend to join the ewes again as soon as they’ve finished lambing. With last year’s drought a memory, we’ll quickly build our flock numbers up. I expect even bigger things by 1918.’ G.W. plucked at his trousers. The habit he had of picking at his clothing had increased since the last drought. Each dry period that decimated their land lingered on in nervous twitches and greying hair and memories that were now slightly blurred at the edges. ‘I feel like I’ve done my penance.’ G.W. looked briefly towards the music room where a familiar tune was being attempted on the organ.
    Lily squeezed his hand. ‘We’ve had our problems. The seasons have not always been kind.’ She faltered. ‘There is the disappointment of no more children and –’ But the words wouldn’t come. The loss of the ten thousand acres sixteen years earlier remained as fresh as if the catastrophe had happened yesterday. The organ music stopped, to be quickly replaced by a harmonica. Uncharacteristically, G.W. began to nod in time to the tune.
    â€˜I’ve heard there is another piano being exhibited at the Banyan Show this year. I could teach the boys,’ Lily suggested. ‘You know I’ve always wanted one.’
    G.W. considered the contents of his glass. ‘Well, my dear, we will inspect it. We may yet find ourselves entertaining in the spring.’ Lily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It had been many years since her husband had been so inclined. The bare mantelpiece shone in the lamplight. ‘And our sons must marry suitably accomplished women, who will appreciate the refinements that this homestead offers. In the meantime I should warn you, my dear, that we may yet see one of them enlisting. We’ve been giving the Germans a good push, and I believe we have the upper hand, but one can never be certain.’
    â€˜Heavens, G.W., you can’t be serious.’ Lily sat her glass on the round side table. ‘The boys are far too young.’
    Her husband raised an eyebrow. ‘Thaddeus is already of age, and Luther will turn eighteen next year. The Allies have achieved some substantial gains, however the war is not yet over.’
    Yesterday Lily had received word from an old family friend about the appalling death toll suffered by the Australians the previous month during the great battle at Fromelles in France. Mrs Roberts also spoke of the censorship in the newspapers and of a strict no-camera policy for soldiers on the Western Front. This was the opposite to Gallipoli, where many soldiers took personal snapshots, including their neighbour Joe Barnes, who forwarded photographs home. This point stuck in Lily’s mind. What didn’t the Empire want them to see?
    â€˜I’m sorry to distress you, my dear, but this must be discussed. If the war drags on into next year at least one of our boys will have to do their duty. If and when that time comes, God forbid, we may well have to make a decision.’
    â€˜A decision?’ Lily repeated. ‘About what?’
    â€˜Well, they cannot both enlist; at least one capable son must be safe-guarded to ensure the future of the Harrow name.’
    â€˜Oh, G.W.’ Lily wrung her hands. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the thought of one of her older sons going to war or the indifference shown towards their youngest boy, David.
    â€˜The Hardcastles sent their second-eldest. The older boy will inherit the property. And what of the Gordons at Wangallon Station? Is their son going?’ Lily’s tone was curt.
    â€˜Of course he isn’t.