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ground. Padar had to tell me twice to round up the well camels and help load the bags onto them.
    Tommy came to help without anyone telling him to. That surprised me. He never said a word, just grinned at me, but he didn’t make me annoyed. Together we re-arranged the loads to be as light as possible for the sick camels.
    That afternoon as we travelled, Mustara was so muchstronger that I risked riding him. He almost kicked up his legs and danced as he would when Emmeline and I rode him into the desert near Beltana. That used to make Emmeline laugh.
    We passed a sandalwood tree where Mr Giles had put a horse’s pack saddle on his earlier expedition. The saddle was of no use but we kept the horse hair it was stuffed with to make cushions so the baggage camels wouldn’t get sores.
    Mustara and I and the sick bulls were at the end of the string and we arrived an hour after the others. They were camped five miles from Mount Finke and most of the unloading was already done. Jess Young called Alec a camellia because he helped so much with the camels but Alec just laughed. At times like that he reminded me of Emmeline.
    Perhaps it was from relief that we were away from the poisonous plants that we sang songs and told stories around the campfire. Padar had told me when he was on Mr Warburton’s expedition the camel drivers had their own fire but Mr Giles said it was best to eat and sleep together since there were only eight of us. ‘It will save on wood too,’ he’d said.
    Jess Young played a song called ‘Cockles and Mussels’. It didn’t take Mr Tietkens long to sing: ‘In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone.’
    Jess Young and Mr Giles joined in together: ‘Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!’
    My heart had almost stopped beating. I had such a recollection of my mother that it was all I could do to stay seated at the fire. I glanced at Padar; he had stopped puffing on his pipe and was staring into the fire. Suddenly, he looked up and saw me staring at him. His eyes were too bright, his mouth sagged. Why did the song affect us so? Did my mother sing it? I couldn’t remember exactly. There was so much I couldn’t remember and I should have. It was as though the memories dammed up when my mother left. The song was about Molly Malone, a fisherman’s daughter. She died of a fever and no one could save her. Could I dare ask Padar about it?

There was only time next morning to see to the camels. As I rode, I despaired of knowing how to speak to Padar about my mother but even these thoughts were chased away by rain. We were almost to Wynbring and Mr Giles threw up his hat, caught it again, and began to shout. Water fell out of the sky so fast that the camels could drink it at their feet. They broke their nose ropes and lay down so they could reach it easier. Padar and I watched them carefully, for loaded camels have a rope across their chests and can’t easily put their heads to the ground without hurting themselves. I saw a bull at Beltana cut himself from doing so.
    When the rain ceased we made it to Mr Giles’ old campsite. Wynbring was a granite rock at least fifty feet high. Tommy was animated. ‘This country my mother – mother closest fella to us.’ I nodded for Padar also said his mother was his closest relative. It was interesting, for Tommy seemed to be saying that the land was something he belonged to rather than the other way round.
    I helped the men put up the canvas tents and tarpaulins over the equipment. We weren’t quite finished when another heavy shower came down, but no one grumbled. We were happy for the rain, as the rock hole was overflowing and water lay everywhere. If this was what it would always be like in the desert the trek to Perth would be easy.
    Jess Young had been looking around him and he addressed Mr Giles, ‘How on earth did you escape alive