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  After that Bill’s only concession to not wasting the skim milk was to give it to a man in the next group, in return for some bacon when a pig was killed. He left the milk in old kerosene tins near the gate to be picked up once a day and the man left clean tins for the next lot.

  The first time she realised it was Daniel Marr, Maggie worried he’d say something about how often they met, but he couldn’t have done or Bill would have tried to stop her walks.

  Such a waste to give all that milk away for so little! Bill said women didn’t understand these things. But she did understand money, because she had to make every penny he doled out do the work of four. Nothing went to waste, not even the sacks the flour and other groceries came in, which she used for towels and rough work clothes for the children.

  She resented the money Bill spent on booze. He wouldn’t even tell her how much was left in the family savings now, and that terrified her.

  What if he brought them to ruin?

  One day Daniel didn’t come to pick up the milk. Bill grumbled that it wasn’t worth bothering for a bit of bacon and they should just pour it away. But Maggie knew something must have happened to keep Daniel away.

  Sure enough, Elsie came across that afternoon with the news that Daniel’s wife had died the previous night, just clutched her chest and dropped dead.

  ‘Oh, no! How’s he going to manage now? Poor Tim and Johnny, motherless!’

  ‘The kids have gone to a neighbour’s house.’ Elsie looked at her sideways. ‘I didn’t think you knew the Marrs all that well.’

  Maggie could feel her cheeks heating up and turned quickly to check the kettle. ‘Jenny and I meet Mr Marr and the boys sometimes on our Sunday walks. The children play together. I didn’t realise his wife was that ill.’

  ‘She’s not been well since the baby. But unless Daniel has a relative who’ll come and help him, he’ll have to sell up and leave. A man can’t manage without a wife, especially with young children. Unless he sends the boys to live with relatives, but even then it’d be a struggle.’

  Maggie couldn’t imagine him sending them away. Daniel loved his sons. He tossed them in the air, talked to them, teased them in a way Bill never had done with their two. ‘When’s the funeral?’

  ‘They’re taking her body over to Pemberton on Thursday. It’s a shame people have to be buried so far away from home. It’s more than time we had our own cemetery here. Why’s that taking them so long to arrange when permission’s already been given for one?’

  Maggie would have gone to the service if it had been local, out of respect, but there was no way she could get into Pemberton, fifteen miles away. ‘I’ll tell Bill. Maybe he’ll deliver the skim milk for a few days till Daniel gets something sorted out.’

  But Bill refused point blank to add another job to his busy days, said he’d pour away the spare milk rather than do that.

  ‘Mr Marr’s just lost his wife! Neighbours usually rally round people in trouble.’

  ‘Well, I’ve enough on my own plate in this godforsaken hole.’

  She took her worries to Elsie, who spoke to her husband, who asked a friend to help. That evening a man turned up at the Spencers’ house to pick up the milk for Daniel. He was very stiff with Bill.

  When he’d left, Bill turned on her. ‘What have you been saying to people?’

  ‘I only mentioned the milk to Elsie.’

  ‘Don’t you dare go telling my business to your friends again, or you’ll regret it.’ He brandished one clenched fist at her.

  Then he was gone and she knew he would come home drunk.

  Peter looked at his mother. ‘When I grow up, I’m not going to be like him.’

  Oh, the scorn in his newly broken voice.

  Bill didn’t come home till morning, shivering and looking ghastly. ‘I slept under a tree. It was more peaceful than sharing a bed with a nagging bitch.’

  He’d probably been too drunk to find his way home, Maggie reckoned. Served him right if he felt as bad as he looked!

  ‘That Daniel Marr’s a battler if ever I met one,’ Elsie said a few days later. ‘Says he’s not giving up his farm while he can stand upright. He’s paying a neighbour to do his baking and washing for him.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Me and Mick drove over to take them a cake and some scones. It fair brought tears to my eyes to see those little lads trying to do the housework.’

  ‘I hope Daniel succeeds. He loves it here.’

  ‘How can he? He hasn’t any relatives in Australia and a farmer needs a woman to work alongside him.’

  There was no sign of her friend on the Sunday walks now and she missed him dreadfully.

  Two weeks later she and Bill had another quarrel because he’d again intercepted one of her payments, even though she’d made the woman promise not to give it to him. But the two husbands had stuck together, so Bill got the ten shillings she’d worked so hard for.

  Of course he went out drinking that night, laughing as she pleaded for her money. She watched him go with tears in her eyes. She’d intended to buy some material with it. Jenny was growing fast and needed a new dress for school.

  When Bill hadn’t come home by dawn Maggie didn’t have time to worry about him. There were cows to milk, the horse to be fed. She got the children up early and they all set to work. Peter and Jenny would have to go to school late. They needed to get the cows milked and the cream separated because it was pickup day.

  They only just got the cream to the gate in time to be collected and there was still no sign of Bill, so she gave in to Peter’s pleas to let him stay home and help with the farm work.

  Just before noon someone knocked on the door. Elsie and Mick stood there, looking upset.

  ‘It’s bad news,’ Mick said gently. ‘Can we come in?’

  Elsie sat beside Maggie, clasping her hand. ‘They found Bill’s body on one of the side tracks. He’d been hit by one of those huge branches. You know how suddenly they drop. I’m so sorry, love. The men are bringing his body back.’

  Maggie felt utterly numb. It couldn’t be true. But when she looked at Elsie’s face, she knew it was. ‘The children. Can you fetch them in, Mick? I need to tell them before they see—anything.’

  She stared at her friend. ‘I should be crying.’

  ‘Grief affects us all differently.’

  She felt more angry than grief-stricken. How were she and the children going to manage now?

  When she told them about their father, Jenny burst into tears but Peter stared angrily at her.

  ‘I suppose he was drunk again. Will we have to give up our farm now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She heard voices outside and stood up. ‘Stay here.’

  The men had Bill’s body on a gate, covered up by an old blanket.

  ‘Best the kids don’t see him,’ one man said gruffly. ‘It was a big branch.’

  She led them to the storage shed, standing with her arms wrapped round herself as they set down the man-sized bundle.

  ‘Do you want to look at him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The doctor will come later to certify his death.’

  Peter stayed angry and Jenny kept weeping, so Maggie said briskly, ‘The animals still need looking after. Come on. Best keep ourselves busy.’ But she couldn’t stop her thoughts buzzing round and round.

  How terrible that Bill should survive the war and then die like this! Would the government let her and the children stay on the farm? To her surprise, she didn’t want to go back to England. Somehow, Australia had become home to her now.

  Four hours later the doctor pronounced Bill officially dead, scribbling out a death certificate for Maggie.

  That evening some men came around with a rough coffin. ‘The doc will let them know in Pemberton that we need to bury your husband tomorrow,’ one of them said. ‘And we’ll take it in turns to give you a hand each day till you decide what to do. You can’t manage on your own.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m gra
teful.’

  It wasn’t until after they’d buried Bill that Maggie cried, muffling her tears in her pillow. She wished so desperately they hadn’t quarrelled the last time they’d been together. She remembered their wedding day, how handsome he’d looked, how much hope they’d both had for the future.

  She couldn’t sleep for worrying about what she would do now. She couldn’t run a farm on her own, wasn’t stupid enough to try. Only—she loved living in the country and had made so many friends here that she felt she had put down roots in Northcliffe, just like those big trees.

  The next day Maggie poured out all her worries to her friend.

  ‘No-one will mind if you take a week or two to work out what you want.’ Elsie hesitated. ‘But if you’re giving up the farm, could you let me and Mick know first, please? I don’t want to sound heartless, but it’s right next door to our place. The older boys are big enough to do a man’s work and we have to think of their future.’

  Maggie nodded. She felt numb, as if her head was full of cottonwool. Would she have any choice about staying?

  Ten days later it was Sunday, so she and Jenny went for a walk.

  Daniel was out walking at the same time. As the three children ran off to play, he said, ‘I’m sorry about your husband. You must be missing him.’

  She stared down at the ground and the words were out before she could prevent them. ‘I’m not.’

  There was silence next to her.

  She looked up. ‘I can’t lie to you, Daniel. I’m not missing Bill at all. He was drinking heavily, wasting our hard-earned money. Last time I saw him, we quarrelled.’

  ‘I was sad when Alice died, but relieved as well. She never forgave me for bringing her here, you see, never stopped complaining, on and on.’

  Maggie let out her breath in a whoosh of relief. ‘Bill made me come to Australia, too, but I love it here and he hated it. Strange that, isn’t it? I don’t want to go back to England, but I can’t manage the farm on my own.’

  He hesitated, frowning, then patted her arm. ‘Don’t do anything hasty.’

  ‘I won’t.’ She watched him walk away, feeling comforted again. He was such a lovely, steady man.

  A week later Elsie came across to visit. ‘You don’t want to go back to England, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Daniel Marr is struggling to manage without a wife.’

  Maggie stared at her in shock, guessing where this was leading.

  ‘He asked me to sound you out, see what you thought about marrying him.’

  ‘Oh.’ She tried to gather her wits. ‘I don’t know what to say. Marriage isn’t something you rush into lightly.’

  ‘You weren’t happy with Bill but Daniel’s a good man, doesn’t drink or anything. My Mick thinks well of him. And his lads are good kids, too. You’d have no trouble with them.’

  ‘I’d need to speak to Daniel myself. Could he—come to tea tomorrow, do you think?’

  ‘I’ll tell him. And Maggie love … I’d marry him if I was you. He’s a fine-looking man, and kind with it.’

  ‘But it’s so soon. What would people say?’

  ‘They’d say it makes sense and be pleased you’re staying.’

  That evening Maggie spoke to the children. ‘Do you want to go back to England?’

  ‘No,’ Peter said at once. ‘And I won’t do it. I’ll run away if you try to make me.’

  ‘I know. But we can’t manage the farm on our own. You’ve not got a man’s strength yet, love. And anyway, the bank wouldn’t lend me any money. They don’t trust women.’ The bank had already written to say Mr Spencer’s debts must be settled when she sold up.

  Peter scowled at the floor.

  ‘There’s a way for us to stay.’

  He looked up eagerly.

  When she explained they both stared at her open-mouthed.

  ‘It’s too soon, really, only I don’t have time to wait. So … Daniel’s coming to tea tomorrow with his sons. Is that all right?’

  They looked at one another then nodded.

  Daniel arrived at two o’clock, wearing a suit. His face was rosy red as if he’d scrubbed it. The boys were equally well scrubbed and in their Sunday best, though their shirts needed ironing.

  It was a hot day, so they all went to sit in the shade near the house.

  As the children fidgeted, Daniel said suddenly, ‘Why don’t you show me round the farm, Peter?’

  ‘Can I play with Tim and Johnny?’ Jenny asked.

  Daniel looked at Maggie. ‘Do you mind us leaving you for a bit? I want to talk to Peter—first.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ She stayed where she was, enjoying a few minutes’ peace and quiet, pleased that Daniel saw the need to speak to Peter.

  In the shed, Daniel said abruptly, ‘You know why I’m here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you mind if I married your mother?’

  ‘She says it’s the only way we can stay here.’ Peter gestured around them. ‘I love this place. I want it to be mine when I grow up. Can we keep it, manage two farms?’

  ‘Maybe we could rent it out till you’re bigger. Is there anything else?’

  ‘I won’t have you hitting us, like my father used to.’

  ‘He hit your mother?’

  ‘Once. She threatened to hit him back.’

  ‘I don’t hit people.’

  ‘And you won’t take her sewing money?’

  ‘No, definitely not. And—um, I like her a lot.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’

  When they came back, Maggie stood up. ‘I’ll get the tea ready.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Daniel said.

  In the kitchen she felt suddenly shy.

  He gave her an understanding look. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you? If so, you’ve only to say.’

  ‘I’d rather have waited to get married again, but there isn’t time for that, is there?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Do you think we can be happy together, Daniel?’

  ‘It won’t be my fault if we aren’t.’

  ‘I’m a hard worker,’ she offered.

  He nodded. ‘I know. Everyone says you are.’

  ‘They say that about you, too.’

  He smiled and she noticed how one side of his mouth curved up more than the other, giving his face a crooked charm. He took her hand. ‘Maggie Spencer, will you marry me?’

  She felt flustered. ‘I’ve already said I will.’

  ‘Because it’ll save the farm?’

  ‘Partly, but also because … I really like you. I’ve missed seeing you lately.’

  ‘I like you, too. Very much. I knew your husband was treating you badly, only I could do nothing about it. Now, I shall do my best to make you happy. We’ll work hard together and make a future for all our children. And … you and I will grow to love one another, I hope.’

  Suddenly Maggie knew it was going to be all right. It might not be smooth sailing, life never was, but this man’s heart was in the right place. ‘I shall be happy to marry you, Daniel, and not just for the farm.’

  He smiled and took her into his arms. She felt safe and so right there that she leaned her head against his chest with a happy sigh. For the first time she dared to admit to herself that she loved him already, so she looked up and told him that.

  The joy of his smile filled her heart with wonder and his kiss set the seal on their happiness.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ANITA BELL is best known as a writer of finance, thrillers for teens and adventures for children, although she adores a dash of romance in everything, usually against a backdrop of explosions and other mayhem. To this extent, Killer Smile fits well within her niche. However, this story also represents her first boots’n’all foray into contemporary romance without leaving too much of her inherent cheeky playfulness behind. Her website is www.anitabell.com.

  ANN CHARLTON’S contemporary romances have been published by Harlequin, and her shor
t stories have appeared in literary and popular magazines and anthologies. Under another name, she has won a Golden Dagger Award for mystery writing. She has studied humanities and criminology, loves gardening and is a devoted patchworker and fabric collector living and working in Brisbane.

  VALERIE PARV has published over seventy books, which have sold more than twenty-six million copies internationally and have been translated into languages as diverse as Russian, Japanese and Icelandic. Most recently she was contributing editor of Heart and Craft (Allen & Unwin, 2009), an insiders’ guide to romance writing. With a Master of Arts and a diploma in professional counselling, she conducts seminars and workshops on creativity and the writer’s craft. A successful writer of nonfiction before turning to romantic suspense, Valerie says she began writing to see if she could do it. The challenge looks like keeping her busy for a long time to come. Her website is www.valerieparv.com.

  Multi-published author ALEXIS FLEMING admits to being a little bit strange and a whole lot quirky. Her world is peopled by interesting characters and exciting possibilities. Her first love has always been romance—hot, sizzling relationships with a dash of comedy. Alexis writes fun, sassy erotic contemporary stories as well as paranormal and fantasies with everything from sexy shapeshifters to beings from other planets. When not writing, she helps her own personal hero run a large motel on the edge of a national marine park in New South Wales. She loves to hear from readers and her website is www.alexisfleming.net.

  By day, ANNE-MAREE BRITTON is the Director of the ACT Writers Centre, supporting the interests of writers in the Canberra region. By night she is a short story writer. Her last collection was Wicked Women (Ginninderra Press). She has a background in educational video scriptwriting, and has two adult children and a pattern of choosing imperfect partners.

  Growing up in Sydney in the 1960s and ’70s, SONNY WHITELAW says she was always drawn to tales of epic quests. ‘You know the type: an everyday kid from Kansas, The Shire or maybe Tatooine, is thrust upon a journey where he—or, more rarely, she—must endure terrible challenges and battle monsters. Of course, the deadliest landscapes in these stories were moral quagmires, and the worst monsters were found lurking in the depths of the human soul.’ Her own journey through life may not have been as epic, but it has been adventurous. She spent twenty years writing articles and taking photographs for magazines including National Geographic. One evening, while she was sitting on the edge of a volcano, ashy margarita in hand, a couple of her friends convinced her to try writing fiction, and about the consequences of climate change. She has since published eight novels, five of them based on the MGM television series Stargate. Her website is: www.sonnywhitelaw.com.