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‘Mother,’ Phillip sighed. ‘We’ve had this conversation before. Steve has bounced back with a wonderful zest for life, work
and love. I’m certain he’s fully cured this time.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed and smiled. ‘I’m being silly, of course. I have this uncertain feeling, all the chemicals the doctors
pumped in might have affected him. He’s been married a few years, now. I’d dearly love to have a great-grandchild before I
die.’
‘Mother, you’re incorrigible!’ Phillip laughed. He looked at her slant-eyed. ‘You’re completely preoccupied with finding an
heir to your beloved Jooloonga,’ he teased.
‘Steven and Nancy are a wonderful couple and, of course, I would like an heir. I’m not denying that for a moment.’
‘We’re lucky to have Steven at all. If the operations had failed . . .’
‘Yes, Phillip, very fortunate indeed. I also feel blessed to have Steven.’
‘Have a little rest now, while you can.’ Phillip bent over and kissed his elderly mother on the forehead. ‘Tomorrow will be
a big day. Don’t worry about the future of Jooloonga. I can assure you, there will be heirs.’
‘You are sure, Phillip! How can that be?’ Emily quizzed, her eyes round with expectation. Something from the past was
clutching at her subconscious, something to do with children. It was the tone of Phillip’s voice that stirred her.
‘Phillip, you’re not going to tell me you have other children tucked away, are you?’ Emily whined, a twinkle in her
eyes.
‘No, Mother, of course not!’
He left the room suddenly. She decided to forget the whole silly conversation. But now, on reflection . . . Oh, God! No!
How could she have been so stupid? Phillip used his plane like most did cars.
A sibling had saved Steven’s life with a perfect match. She had overheard the doctor’s conversation at the private clinic,
in the south. Phillip told her she hadn’t heard correctly, insisting they must have been referring to another patient.
There would only be one woman in the whole world Phillip couldn’t tell her about.
Why! her mind screamed.
At once she knew why, as her memory drifted back . . . sliding through the oceans of the past.
 Extract from VALLEY OF THE EAGLE
Prologue
Benjamin Clarke relaxed in the high-backed padded chair in the office of his grand old homestead. He bent his head forward
and massaged his neck with both hands, coaxing the muscles to relax. It had been a long day. Ben squared his shoulders and
ran his fingers through his thick dark brown hair. The prematurely grey sideburns blended perfectly with the steel grey of
his eyes, giving him the appearance of being much older than thirty-two. His looks, his mode of dress and the polished
accent might have suited an English aristocrat but his life had changed dramatically.
A satisfied expression spread over the Englishman’s weather-beaten face as he gazed at the cattle cheque he pulled from an
envelope. The sale of five hundred prime bullocks at top market prices was indeed a tidy sum. The war had brought
prosperity to the cattle industry. The troops needed to be fed.
His thoughts went to his sister Annie. It was Annie’s adversities that provided the catalyst to swing him onto a different
path, spurring him onto a road of changing values. Ultimately, through obscure and unforeseen events, these changes had
brought him success — if one called wealth success.
He leant forward, picked up the glass of Scotch and swallowed it in one gulp. He sighed deeply, allowing his head to fall
back against the plush leather. Piercing eyes beneath his arched brows darted absently around the room.
His eyes played over the original oil portraits; a dark man’s inspirational talent that brought memories tumbling back,
memories of a place more beautiful than any other on earth.
The beauty of the art burrowed into his mind as it blazed a trail through his vision, a trail of wonder and
enchantment.
Ben’s eyes settled on the portrait of the giant wedge-tailed eagle, the enormous wings spanning seven feet or more, with
clawed feet ready to land on the branch of a white-barked gum near the entrance to the gorge. Ben shook his head. The
whisky must have riddled his senses. The damn eagle was looking straight at him with that piercing, discriminating stare
he knew so well. He half expected to hear the ear-splitting, cat-like screech this eagle rendered when making his presence
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