It’s time to get out. I’m not sure about where the back door might be, but there has to be one. I leave my post, and sprint for the doorway into the next room. They do not appear, and so I guess that she is delaying. The room I’m in is large, filled with ceramic pieces, but not as large as the others. It has more TVs and couches, but one end has exercise machines silhouetted by the light through the floor-to-ceiling glass so you can look outside as you work out. There is a corridor in front of me, but I guess that leads to bedrooms and bathrooms, and not to a quick way out. I run to the gym end, and see a sliding door that opens onto a paved area, push through it, and find myself breathing fresh air in an unseen courtyard. I sidle along the edge of the house in amongst plants and shrubs until I get to the furthest corner. I reckon if I scrabble along the ground out of the garden, and make for the planting rig that sits waiting halfway between the house and the sheds, I should be fine.

From the planting rig I crawl across the ground like an ungainly goanna until I reach the ute, open the door from the ground, slither in, and start it up. I pull forward, and make my way through the gap between two sheds, hoping no one will hear me. I take it slowly — only the guilty would be rushing. But when I look back at the house there is a blond man in the garden watching, waving his arms and becoming agitated. I don’t look again, and hold my pace until I hit Wilson Road, and then gun it, knowing he is probably giving chase. He’ll be looking for me, and I have to be ready. I’m flying down the road, and then I feel a tyre give. My tyres, which are bald or missing chunks of tread, should have been replaced weeks ago, but because of lack of money and a very low care factor, I haven’t bothered. Fine time to pay the price. I veer to the side of the road. In the distance behind me I see dust kicking up, and a vehicle travelling towards me at speed. It can only be him. I figure the tyre is probably buggered anyway, and pull out onto the road and jam my foot on the accelerator again. I might wreck the rim, which would be expensive and inconvenient, but I’m not staying around for this guy.