Hannah, his nanny, had come running. She’d held him tight, rocking him, while Ros rushed to apply salve.

‘There, baby, it’ll be fine, see, Ros has ice and ointment all ready. Let Hannah see.’

His parents had walked in as they’d hugged him.

Maybe he hadn’t reacted fast enough. He was shocked and his hand hurt, so instead of rushing to greet them with the pleasure he’d already begun to act instead of feel, he’d simply clung harder to his Hannah.

‘What is this?’ his mother had demanded with deep displeasure, and he’d sobbed then, with fright as well as pain. Already he knew that voice. ‘William, stop that appalling crying and get over here. You do not get close to servants.’

‘They’re not servants,’ he’d managed. ‘They’re Hannah and Ros.’

His mother’s eyes had narrowed at that, and he’d been sent to his room without even salve on his hand.

Who knew where Hannah and Ros were now? They’d been given notice on the spot. He needed to learn independence, his mother had decreed, and he still remembered the sneer.

His next nanny had been nice enough, but he’d learned. His new nanny was Miss Carmichael. He did not get close.

Soon after that he’d been sent to boarding school. His parents had split and from then on his holidays had been spent with his grandparents. The only care he had there was from more servants-though eventually his grandfather realised he had a head for figures. That had resulted in a tinge of interest. William was deemed the new head of the McMaster Empire.

So there he had it, he thought ruefully, his one family use. His grandfather knew he’d make a good businessman and that was the extent of his importance. It was no wonder he was emotionally screwed.

He should be able to get over it-his dysfunctional family-their fierce focus on social hierarchy and fortune-their petty squabbles and personal vindictiveness-their total lack of sense of family. But how to get over a lifetime of dysfunction? Even now, he didn’t really understand what family love or life was. He’d an inkling of it through friends and associates. At times he even envied it, but to try and achieve it…No.

He’d learned not to need it. He couldn’t need something he didn’t understand and the last thing he wanted was to hurt another human as his extended family had hurt each other. How could he undo so many years of family malice? He couldn’t.

He told no one any lies about himself. The women he dated used his social cachet as pay-off, and that was fine by him.

And the kids? Pip and Ned? He was certainly fond of them, as fond as he ever allowed himself to be. But they called him Mr McMaster and he knew that soon he’d disappear from their lives as well. That was the way things had to be. Like now. He couldn’t even be there for them at Christmas. A broken promise, like so many he’d been given as a child…

A whistle split the air, so loud it hauled him out of his reverie. Maybe that was just as well. There was little to be gained by trying to change at this stage of his life, and maybe a lot to lose. He shrugged, mocking something that was part and parcel of how he faced the world-and then he tried to figure who was whistling.

Meg had said she’d be helping with the milking. Who else was down there?

There was only one way to find out.

He checked his watch. It was five-thirty.

Early, even by his standards.

Whoever was down there knew how to work.


W S McMaster could be forgotten here. She was perfectly, gloriously happy. She was home.

Meg stomped across the baked dirt and whooshed her next cow into the bail. Friesian 87 plodded forward with resigned equanimity.

‘That’s Topsy,’ Kerrie said. ‘Her milk production’s gone up twelve per cent this year. You’re ace, aren’t you, girl?’

‘I thought Letty decided we should stop naming them.’

‘That was only when she had to get rid of half the herd. It broke her heart. Now your income’s so good she’s decided we can name them again. She started with Millicent, and now she’s moving onto the whole herd.’

Uh-oh.

‘It’s not so stable as you might think,’ she said cautiously.

Kerrie released her cow and stretched and glanced across into the vat room, where her three little girls were playing in a makeshift playpen. ‘We take one day at a time,’ she said. ‘We all know that.’

Maybe everyone did, Meg thought as she washed teats and attached cups. Last year Kerrie’s husband had maxed out their credit cards and taken off with a girl half his age, leaving Kerrie with three babies under four. Milking here was now her sole income.

Kerrie’s income was thus dependent on Meg’s income. On Meg’s job.

William had said he wouldn’t fire her. She had to believe him. But first they had to get through Christmas.

We’ll put this behind us as an unfortunate aberration…

Christmas. An aberration.

That wasn’t what he’d meant, but it was how it seemed.

What was he intending to do with himself for the next three days?

‘Can I help?’

She didn’t have to show she was startled. The cows did it for her, backing away in alarm at this unfamiliar person in the yard. The cow Kerrie was ushering in backed right out again before Kerrie could stop her, and Kerrie swore and headed after her.

‘You need to move,’ Meg said swiftly. ‘You’re scaring the cows.’

He was in his gym gear. Black and white designer stuff with crisp white designer trainers. Very neat.

The cows weren’t appreciating it.

He backed into the vat room, where the playpen was set up. The oldest of the little girls cried out in alarm and he backed out of there too.

Meg found herself smiling. Her boss, in charge of his world. Or not.

‘Go back to bed,’ she advised. ‘It’s early.’

‘I don’t like my PA working before me. Is there something I can do?’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Goodness. ‘How are you at washing udders?’ she asked, stunned.

‘I learned it at kindergarten,’ he said promptly and she found herself chuckling. He’d woken up on the right side of the bed, then. Maybe this could work.

‘If you’re serious…’

‘I’m serious.’

‘The cows don’t like gym gear.’

‘You think I should go back and put on one of my suits?’

‘Um…no.’ She chuckled and saw a flare of surprise in his eyes. Maybe she didn’t chuckle around him enough.

Maybe she didn’t chuckle at all.

‘Kerrie’s brother helps out here occasionally when the kids are sick,’ she said. ‘Ron’s around your size. His overalls and gumboots are in the vat room.’

‘Gumboots?’

‘Wellingtons,’ Kerrie said, entranced.

‘This is Kerrie,’ Meg said. ‘Kerrie, this is William.’

‘Your boss?’ Kerrie asked.

‘Not right this minute he’s not,’ she said firmly. ‘Now he’s offering to be a worker. You want to use Ron’s gear? The cows will settle once you look familiar.’ She pointed to the vat room.

‘There’s babies in there,’ William said nervously, and both women burst out laughing.

‘If you’re going to give me a hard time…’ William said but, to Meg’s amazement, he was smiling.

‘Nah, you’re free labour,’ Meg said, smiling right back. ‘Kerrie, you’re responsible for keeping Mr McMaster free of all babies. Get changed and come out and we’ll introduce you to Cows One to a Hundred.

‘Only now they all have names,’ Kerrie reminded her. ‘I’ll teach you.’

‘Teach us both,’ Meg said. ‘It seems we both need to get used to names.’


By the time they finished, the sun was already spreading warmth, promising a hot day to come. Meg set William to sluicing the dairy while she did who knew what with the equipment in the vat room. Sluicing was, William found, a curiously satisfying job, controlling a hose with enough water power to drive the mess off the ramp and into the drains. It was a manly sort of hose, he decided, and he set about enjoying himself.

Kerrie collected her kids and made to leave. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she called to Meg and he thought suddenly, she looks tired.

Three kids, so small… What was she doing, milking twice a day?

‘Are you milking over Christmas?’ he asked, and Kerrie nodded.

‘Letty and I milk twice a day. When Meg’s here Letty gets time off. She needs it.’

‘When do you get a sleep-in?’ he asked and suddenly Meg was outside again, listening.

‘With three babies?’ Kerrie asked, as if sleep-ins were unheard of.

‘Their dad…’

‘He did a runner,’ Kerrie said, with feigned indifference. ‘Milking for Meg’s the only thing between me and bankruptcy.’

And William glanced over at Meg, caught her urgent, unspoken message and knew it was true.

‘So you’re milking morning and night all over Christmas.’

‘I like it,’ Kerrie said.

‘So if I said I’d do it for you…’

Both women drew in their breath. Meg’s face went still. She obviously hadn’t expected this.

‘If it’s okay with Meg, that is,’ he said and swooshed a mess of stuff from the ramp. Swooshing felt excellent.

Meg smiled. He liked it when she smiled. How come he hadn’t noticed that smile way before now?

‘It’s fine by me,’ Meg said, ‘but…’

‘But I can’t afford it,’ Kerrie said, suddenly breathless. ‘I mean…it’s a lovely offer but…’

‘But nothing,’ Meg said, suddenly rock solid, smiling at William as if he was Santa in person. ‘William’s offering to do it for free. I’m sure of it. I’ve budgeted for your pay so this is his gift to you. Let the man be magnanimous.’

‘Magnanimous?’ Kerrie ventured.

‘Manly,’ Meg said, grinning. ‘This is a very manly gesture.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Kerrie whispered, sounding awed.

‘Of course he’s sure,’ Meg said, smiling and smiling. ‘There’s so much women’s work to be done over Christmas, and what do the men do? They buy a bottle of perfume at the last minute, if we’re lucky. Even Scotty. He’s left his Christmas shopping to the last minute and I have to take him to Curalo this morning. I’ll stand outside the shop while he buys me the perfume I’ve told him I like and then I’ll drive him home and that’s his manly duty done. So here’s one offering to be truly useful…’