Chapter 40
Clare awoke in her own bed, in her own little room back at Currawong. The candlewick spread, the pretty lamp, the lacy curtains ‒ nothing ever changed in this space. It could have been her first night back at the homestead, and all that had happened these past few months might well have been a dream. It was both a comforting and unsettling thought. She was certain of one thing though. Last night with Tom had been no dream.
Clare stretched, cat-like. What time was it anyway? The bunya pine in the yard already cast a shadow on the window. She checked the wind-up alarm clock beside the bed. It was later than she thought.
A knock came at the door. ‘Breakfast’s up, sleepy head,’ said Grandad. Clare hopped out of bed, and into jeans and a T-shirt. She pulled a comb through her tous
