It is cold and uncomfortable on the ground

Australian dirt even more so. Australian dirt is only for real men. None of that plush green grass of home. Aching limbs and a dark mood ensue.

Ned’s alright as far as company goes but hardly a substitute for soft skin and lace (well there are THOSE other stories but we will pass over that for now..)

Comfort must therefore be sought in whiskey/opium/far-fetched imaginings or plot lines/all three.

A bar springs out of nowhere. These are always open, as are the barmaids. She may not be that bright- we have no idea since her views on anything other than his thighs/curls/etc are mentioned- but she does love Joe passionately. Despite having never met him before.

She is not averse to sex outdoors. On account of living in shack full of other deserving poor Irish descended salts of the earth, or simply that she can’t wait to get back to said shack. Indeed seems not to notice that it is cold and uncomfortable on the ground. Must just be him then...

Maybe he is a bit of a wuss. Doesn’t seem to bother Ned either. Or that Aaron Sherritt in his shirt sleeves in all weathers. Author moves swiftly on to thoughts of sensitive souls and considerate lovers etc etc.

Their tryst is consummated fast. No time to purchase non existent contraception.

After so long in the Bush with just Ned and the boys and himself for company it happens like a flash from his overly punned pistol.

She hangs on hopefully to the thought from previous paragraph for later. The sun sets. “I must return to outlawry now” he says darkly. Manly things remain undone apparently.

Joe leaves. With his heart heavy at another weeping woman clutching all too brief memories to her breast but at least some fresh images to stimulate, I mean comfort, him on those long cold nights on the hard etc etc

She rises stoically and considers if his ‘women’ might form a WI all of their own. Swapping tales of walls and dirt perhaps rather than recipes for chutney and knitting patterns. Then again the latter might come in handy...

Pining. Lots of pining.

The End.