Mrs White pretend-laughs. ‘My, that’s mighty high you’re flying, Tommy.’

Tommy looks at me, crosses his eyes, rolls his tongue so the sides touch off each other. Clever little boy; he could never stand being patronised. When I look at the teacher again I see conflicting emotions play out on her face. A part of me wants to confide in her, ask her what she thinks of this man. How does he appear to strangers? That bloody resolution to never trust anything my instinct tells me hasn’t exactly set up a reliable inner compass. Ok, so God, what do you think? God? Where are you, God?

Back in the car David turns to Tommy. ‘Hey, dude. Not cool to make that face about your teacher.’

I look at him in the rear-view mirror. He sticks his thumb in his mouth.

‘Bad manners not to answer, son. Did your mother not teach you anything?’

His words stir a familiar reverberation in me. Lara saying something similar to me and my father standing by, letting her.

‘Only babies suck their thumbs, and you’re not a baby anymore, are you?’

‘No, he’s not.’ I stop him. ‘He’s a big boy, an almost-five-year-old! Tommy? How many of those invites did you give out today?’

Tommy continues looking out the window.

‘Did you hear your mother, Tommy?’

I elbow David, without looking directly at him, my concentration on the road ahead. I whisper, ‘Back off him.’

David leans in and puts the radio on. Some rapper is motherfuckingwhore-ing down the airwaves. I turn it off. ‘Jesus, that stuff should be rated, not played during the school run.’

‘Do you hear your mother, Tommy, pretending to be all responsible and concerned?’

‘I am concerned,’ I say, a flash of anger erupting.

‘Ok, now, calm down, Sonya, don’t go getting all dramatic on me now.’

Did he swallow my father’s words? I press my foot to the floor.

‘Jesus, Sonya. Slow down. Small person on board.’ David is trying to make his tone sound jokey, but much as he spouts on to me about needing to ‘let go and let God’, I know he’s not able, not for a second, and being a passenger in a car driven by a wired, out-of-control woman is challenging every aspect of him that needs to be in the driving seat at all times.

‘Wheee, Tommy!’ I say, winking in the rear-view mirror.

‘Wheee,’ he says back, a watered-down limp response, unsure.

‘Wheee,’ says David, trying to join in.

Tommy looks at him with that look I saw him give me the first night he came back: appraising, cold.

Once inside, Tommy goes straight to the back door, opens it and lets Herbie and Marmie in.

‘They’re animals,’ David says. ‘Better off outside.’

‘They’re domesticated animals, though, David. Not some wild creatures that were reared in the outdoors. They’re used to heat and home comforts.’

‘Well, they can just get used to their natural habitat again.’

‘Natural habitat… a yard?’ I hear a pig-like grunt come out of me.