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19The woman lived in a little house on a big block of land that backed onto the Royal National Park. It had been her father’s house once, back when getting to Bundeena necessitated detailed planning and an itinerary. A car or wagon ride along a muddy track rutted through with the tracks of other cars or wagons all eager to get to ‘paradise’. That was before she was born, before her parents had met and married. Bill Ward had seen an opportunity in procuring property on land that, at that time, was in the middle of the wilderness and, therefore, not worth much. Many of his neighbours had been encouraged to move to the tiny village when the Depression had put renting a decent home out of the reach of most people. Bill sniffed a bargain and followed them in, and he’d been right. Dorothy Parde