It is Constable Murray who takes the call. I am sober-voiced and serious. But before I can begin on the spiel I have been practising, she says, ‘We know about the box, Mr Martin.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes.’ The same tired tone. I really am a headache for her. ‘I delivered it.’

‘You delivered it?’

‘Yes, Mr Martin. Hand-delivered it. By the time we’d dropped it off, taken a run up your road, and turned around, you were waiting at your mailbox.’

‘I don’t understand.’

She sighs loudly. I am a ten-year-old who has been told many times. ‘My mother nursed your father in his final days in the nursing home.’

‘Okay.’

‘And he told her he had a big box of money, his racing winnings, that he had kept in a back room somewhere.’

I am speechless. I have a sense that Constable Murray is a pivotal part of this whole series of events — a policewoman, at that.

‘He asked my mother if she could hang on to it, and give it to you in ten years’ time. Of course, he paid her to do it.’

‘The money was from Dad?’

‘Yes. And for the record, I never approved of it. I’m guessing it came from a fixed race, and I’m certain the tax department knows nothing about it. Sadly, my mother got sick, so it was left to me to carry out his wishes.’

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

‘You didn’t find the letter?’ The sigh again. ‘Mum said there’s a letter that explains it all. Have another look.’

A sob rises up out of my throat, unexpected and uncontained.

She takes the sob I’m trying to suck back in as confirmation.

‘I’m sorry things didn’t turn out so great for you. Nevertheless, I think your father wanted you to enjoy the money. I’ll leave you with that.’

She hangs up the phone, which I don’t really notice. My father’s selfishness … my memories of him … the thousand thoughts I’ve had about the contents of that box and why I received them, and now what it means, all smash into each other in my head, creating confusion and even a little joy. When did my father win $250,000? It must have taken him years. Or did he have one big win in the later years? Why didn’t he tell me? I lie on the floor, letting the new facts wash over me. I realise I didn’t tell her about the other boxes, and now it’s the last thing I’m worrying about.