The stars shone on a clear night as Bill walked down the main street of Clare. Many times, he had gazed at the stars in the Northern Hemisphere and now he felt at home again as he picked out the Southern Cross and the night skies seemed to be welcoming him home. He paused at the door of The Globe Coffee Palace, it was March 1943, and it was almost five months since the war stopped for him at El Alamein. He wondered if they were still up at ten o'clock at night. He slipped his bag from his shoulder as he gazed at the door. He was home, he had made it, he wondered how and he wanted to savour the moment. It was just an ordinary full panel door with flecks of paint peeling. It meant so much more to Bill, it was the symbol of his family who he thought many times he had lost. With his heart quickening in anticipation, he lifted his arm and rapped on the door.

It took him a few seconds to recognise Elaine, they stood staring, then she screamed, 'Bill, Bill. Mum it's Bill,' and flew into his arms. Kate ran to the door followed by Eddy. Through screams and kisses, Bill picked up his bag and made his way to the kitchen table.

'I was afraid I'd never see you again,' said Kate, tears showing on her cheeks, 'you look all right. How are you? How are your wounds? Did they heal? How long can you stay?'

'I'm fine Mum. I can stay three weeks.'

'Good, there's plenty of room here. Peter's coming from Maknapinna station and David will be here tomorrow.'

'Have you got a cuppa Mum?'

'Of course, are you hungry?'

                                                     * * *               

It had been years since he had spent a night in his mother's house and when Bill awoke in the morning, he lay savouring the feeling of being home. The sunbeams were catching the dust and it appeared as if the room was streaked with beams. He was fascinated by the sight and tried to catch the reflections on the wall. There was a boy watching from the doorway. 'Sean! Gee you've grown, come and talk to me.' Bill's army gear was spread around the room and Sean picked up some of the kit and examined it. The boy was tall for his age, dressed in a soiled shirt and shorts held up by braces. There was snot under his nose. 'Do you have a handkerchief?' asked Bill.

'No,' said Sean.

Bill reached into his kit and pulled out a clean folded khaki handkerchief. He handed it to Sean, 'Can you blow your nose yourself?'

'Yeah,' said Sean as he blew hard into the handkerchief clearing his nose and proffering the result to Bill.

'No, you keep it. You now have a real army handkerchief. Do you like that?'

Sean smiled as he stuffed it in his pocket. 'Yeah,' he said.

'Come on, sit on the bed and talk to me.'

The boy jumped up onto Bill's bed. Bill reached over, picked up his slouch hat and placed it on Sean's head. 'You can't keep that, but you can wear it,' he said.

'Did you kill anyone in the war?' Sean asked.

Bill ignored the question, 'What are you doing today?'

'Watching the horses at the Blacksmith's.'

'Will you show me?'

'If you like.'

'Tell Mum I'm comin' down for breakfast. After that, you can show me the horses.' Sean hurried from the room.

Bill stepped onto the footpath with Sean excitedly showing the way. It was like there was another world in this child's mind and Bill felt privileged to be entering it. Kate had told him she was worried about how Sean was coping with the shift from Muddy River to the town. He had made up a world of his own and he was welcoming Bill to share it. Clare had a narrow main street with all sorts of vehicles parked on both sides making the street even narrower. With petrol rationing, there were many horse drawn vehicles such as drays, sulkies with small and large horses pulling them. Bicycles, motorbikes, cars and trucks also were meandering down the street or were parked at the curb. Bill was interested in the weird smelly contraptions attached to some cars to allow them to run on fuels other than petrol. A convoy of Army trucks was threading its way through the town on their way north to Darwin or places in between. No wonder Sean liked to watch the traffic, it was a passing parade of humanity and man's strange vehicles.

With more people using horses because of the petrol shortage, the blacksmith shop was a hive of activity. The smithy built up the flame in his fire much to the fascination of Sean. Some of the horses he was shoeing were difficult to handle and the owners or handlers tried to control them. Sometimes, the horses would rear and jump, frightening those around the shop. As Bill and Sean approached, a prancing horse reared and lashed out. The horse came down and kicked the blacksmith, sending him sprawling, then it bolted down Main Street with the owner in pursuit. The blacksmith had a bruised leg, but carried on shoeing the next horse. Bill could see how impressed Sean was at how the smithy made the shoe just the right size, then plunged it into the water with a loud hiss as the sizzling steam rose. The blacksmith moved to the horse and shod it quickly by hammering the nails into the horses hoof until they protruded out the side then bent the nails over and cut them off.