She had not shared her thoughts about these things with anyone for years. Never with Steven. He was not interested. With Bo she felt she had been given permission to re-admit her memories of those days, riding out with her father in the vast silent scrubs of the Suttor; the incense of burning sandalwood in the air at their lunchcamp fire, the smell of their horses and her father's pipe, the pleasure in his eyes to have her by his side. Steven had never been interested to know anything of her old country. Like most of their Melbourne friends and colleagues, Steven had considered Queensland culturally a lost cause and had paid it no serious attention. The landscapes of the Suttor had occupied a secret region of her heart never shared with her husband.