Clara ran forward with a cry of pleasure, her troubles forgotten as she saw the harbour lying like a map at her feet.

The opposite shore curved into miniature bays, with the spires and towers of the city etched on a filmy blue sky.

The mass of bricks and mortar in front was Paddington and Woollahra, leafless and dusty where they had trampled the trees and green grass beneath their feet; the streets cut like furrows in a field of brick.

As the eye travelled eastward from Double Bay to South Head the red roofs became scarcer, alternating with clumps of sombre foliage.

Clara looked at the scene with parted lips as she listened to music.