Chapter 8
Jack hit the little girl sitting next to him on the head with the whip. She burst out crying. ‘Come on, sweetie,’ said Clare, dragging Jack out of the stagecoach by his arm. ‘Sorry,’ she called, as a man holding a camera stormed over. She hurried Jack away. So much for the happy snap.
When the department gave her permission to take Jack on a holiday, Kim had asked for a photographic record of the trip. Something Jack could share with Taylor when he saw her. They’d reached Toowoomba, an hour and a half west of Brisbane, and the Cobb & Co Museum had seemed like the perfect stopover. It would set them in the mood for Currawong.
The museum housed over fifty horse-drawn vehicles, including sturdy drays and farm wagons of the sort pulled by Grandad’s clydesdales. They told the story
