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Milly and Benedict’s hobby farm, a patchwork of oddly shaped paddocks and a jumble of birds and animals, lightens my mood. A dark-haired man wearing a blue and white checked shirt, presumably Benedict, rests a bucket on his hip as he opens the gate to a chook pen. Milly, purple hair tied up in a bun, appears at the open crimson door of a small timber house and rushes down the path.

‘Amelie!’ In her late thirties, Milly has obviously been crying, but smiles. ‘You’re too young to have so many letters after your name.’

‘It’s a bit of an alphabet.’ Gordon warned me Keith Urban isn’t keen on alpacas, so I open the back door of my ute and direct him to the seat before turning back to Milly. ‘Did Jimmy force you to take one of my cards?’

‘If he hadn’t, I would have snatched it.’

‘Anna told me you work with Julia.’

‘I help out with reception.’ When we reach the end of the path, she pauses. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t welcome you at the practice. Did Anna explain? I got caught up here.’

‘Do you have much experience in farming?’

‘None! But we’ve been through a lot together, Benedict and me.’ Her eyes well up, but she smiles through it. ‘The farm has brought us even closer.’

Two tall white ganders, necks extended and honking, dart across our path. ‘Why two male geese?’

‘It would make sense to have females and eggs, wouldn’t it?’ Milly rolls her eyes. ‘They were sold to us as girls and by the time we worked out they were boys, we couldn’t face giving them away.’

‘They’re good-looking birds and they’ll fertilise your garden.’

Milly laughs. ‘You look on the bright side, don’t you? I like that.’

‘With animals, definitely.’

She looks me up and down. ‘Shelley from the pub said you were pretty, but this is next level.’

‘I haven’t been to the pub.’

‘You were out the front of Dr Brown’s place, talking to Cam. You’re living in his cabin, aren’t you? Julia said it’s like a doll’s house, so goodness knows how Cam ever fitted into it.’ She squares her shoulders. ‘He’s quite a lad, our Cam McLeod.’

My nod is stiff. ‘Anna and her children are lovely.’

She holds her hands to her heart. ‘She’s a great mum and now she not only has Cam, but Adam, to help parent her kids.’

‘It was good of her to find me and Keith Urban somewhere to live.’

‘Milly!’ Benedict calls out. ‘Why don’t you stay back at the house?’

Milly’s eyes well up again. ‘I should come with you, shouldn’t I?’

‘You haven’t yet told me why I’m here.’

She threads her arm through mine and we walk together. ‘It’s heartbreaking.’

A speckled black and white cow, the Angus breed crossed with something else, grazing in a paddock behind the yards has a newborn calf that shares her colouring. The second cow is black and younger than the first.

‘They look good. What’s the problem?’

Milly stands back as Benedict, after sending a sad smile in her direction, leads me to a blue tarpaulin by the gate and pulls back a corner. After gloving up, I kneel by the newborn calf ’s little body and pull the tarp clear. The calf, his skin torn and his stomach and other intestines ripped, has been attacked by an animal, maybe a dog or a fox. He’s only been dead for a few hours, no longer.

‘Poor little guy.’ I touch his cheek. ‘What happened to you?’

‘What a terrible time for this to happen,’ Milly calls out from the other side of the yard. ‘Just before Christmas.’

‘We knew the cows were likely to calve very soon,’ Benedict says. ‘And that’s why we were out here at six this morning. Old Bess and her little one were good as gold, but Belle here, her calf was just as you see him, lying on the grass with his tummy hanging out.’

‘Belle never looked pregnant in the way Bess did,’ Milly says, ‘but we were told to expect that as it was her first calf and Bess’s eighth.’