Josh peered into the darkness. A light winked. He positioned his own lantern and switched it on, turning away so that the flare of brightness wouldn’t blind him. He picked up the remaining three lanterns and moved ahead.

Again, he stopped and waited for a spot of illumination in the night, before positioning another lantern and switching it on.

His final lantern flickered alive, glowed briefly, then extinguished. He picked it up and shook it – maybe it was a loose wire and he could get it to work.

No luck. It refused to cooperate. He sighed, hoping Dad wouldn’t blame him. He knew it wasn’t his fault … but Dad was edgy. When he was in this sort of mood, he tended to lay blame on whoever was closest. Josh wanted Dad to be proud of him, not critical. At twelve years of age, it was a big deal for Josh to be asked to help with the lights – he and Dad out in the night together, while Aunty Karen looked after Mum and waited for them to return with help.

‘Dad!’ he called towards the spot of light. ‘This lantern won’t turn on.’

Dad stomped across the track of compacted earth and stone to where Josh stood waiting. ‘Let me see,’ he demanded.

Josh passed him the lantern. Dad flicked the switch on and off a few times, then shook the whole thing. He muttered something under his breath then strode off. Josh followed him down the track to the far end.

Dad tossed the lantern into the ute and rummaged around behind the seats, continuing to mumble to himself. ‘Damn!’ he growled, as he finally emerged. ‘Don’t have anything to replace it. And we don’t have time to drive back to the homestead to get another. This’ll just have to do.’

Josh looked out at the nine lights – a row of five and a parallel row of four, evenly spaced, marking out the edges of the track. He was relieved that Dad hadn’t blamed him. He sighed and looked up into the night sky.

Dad began to pace.

The two of them didn’t speak.

Josh wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed, but thought that it would have been more than enough to go back for another lantern.

Eventually he spotted something.

‘Look!’ he called, pointing up.

Dad stopped pacing and came to stand by his side.

They watched as the lights moved across the night sky, cutting their way through the darkness. As they got closer and lower, Josh could make out a distant droning sound.

‘Almost here,’ said Dad, his voice tight with anxiety.

Josh looked at Dad. The pale moonlight made his face seem older – the wrinkles deeper, the bags under the eyes saggier, the receding hairline more prominent.

Josh looked along the track – the dirt airstrip – outlined by the portable lights he and Dad had positioned. Most of the big cattle stations had their own airstrips. They were used mostly for planes that did spraying and seeding … and sometimes for emergencies! His family’s cattle station wasn’t all that big, only about 4000 hectares, but luckily it did have a place to land a plane.

Josh looked back up into the sky. He could definitely hear the aeroplane now.

The lights continued to descend until the plane itself became visible, a shadowy outline in the dark. Standing off to the side, at the far end of the makeshift runway, Josh watched in awe as the plane landed. It seemed to bounce a little as it touched down, kicking up clouds of dust. And then it sped along the track towards him, Dad and the ute.

Josh couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the plane couldn’t stop in time. After all, it wasn’t a very long runway. Would it speed off the end, into the grass? Would it swerve and crash into them? Would it leap back into the sky?

As the aircraft slowed to a stop, Josh realised that he had been holding his breath. He let it out with a little chuckle.

‘This is no laughing matter,’ Dad snapped, before heading towards the now stationary plane.

Josh sighed. It seemed that he was really good at doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. He had been laughing at his own silliness … not at the situation as a whole. He knew that things were serious. He knew that lives hung in the balance.

Dad had never been a great talker, but he had been more distant these last few weeks. There had been a tension in the air as everyone waited. He wasn’t sure why everyone was so worried, but it had something to do with Mum’s age. And now that things had gone wrong, Dad was like a coiled spring wound super tight.

Josh sighed again. He wished that Dad would talk to him.

Dad melted into the shadows of the plane as if he had been devoured by some monster. Josh held his breath. But then the monster released him, spitting shapes from the gloom – shapes that became three figures, walking towards him.

Dad was talking intently to them as they strode quickly across to the ute. Josh watched as Dad opened the passenger door. The man and woman climbed in, then Dad went round to the driver’s side.

Josh raced to the back of the ute and jumped up, just as the engine roared to life. He wondered if Dad would have left him behind if he hadn’t been quick enough.

Holding on to the side of the ute, Josh was bounced about as the vehicle made its way through the night, across the cattle station towards the homestead.

He gazed through the rear window at his dad and the two strangers – the people from the Royal Flying Doctor Service. He couldn’t see their faces. The man had close-cropped dark hair and he was quite tall. The woman’s hair was lighter and in a bob that swished about as the ute went over bumps. Josh figured that she was the something-or-other wife who Dad had been talking about. Which meant that the man must be the pilot.

Josh looked up at the sky. It was a clear night and the moon and stars shone down on him. A pinprick of light flared across the darkness before disappearing. A shooting star!

They grant wishes, don’t they? thought Josh. He wasn’t sure but decided to give it a try anyway.

‘I wish …’ he whispered. ‘I wish for a brother.’