‘Yes, carrots for Batbat.’ Jed lugged both nappy bag and daughter into the kitchen.

‘Woof!’ Maxi leaped up from her dog bed, embarrassed that she hadn’t heard the car. The old dog was half deaf these days. She obviously hoped that a loud woof would make Jed assume the Doberperson had been alert and on guard all day.

‘Good dog,’ said Jed, putting down the nappy bag and stroking Maxi’s greying ears. She put Mattie in her high chair, then threw two carrots to Batbat. She was just opening the fridge to the sound of carrot crunching, Maxi looking up hopefully at the cold chicken, when the phone rang.

‘For crying out loud . . .’ Jed grabbed a halved avocado and handed it to her daughter, then ran to the phone in the front hall. ‘Hello?’

‘It’s me, my sweet, your patient publisher and friend.’

Jed sat on the telephone stood. ‘Julieanne, darling, please don’t nag. Not today. I’m bushed. And I really am working on another book. Nancy’s been telling me all about her grandmother. Well, we haven’t got to her Gran yet, but . . .’

‘It’s okay, my love. I know you’ll get it done when you can. There’s no point hurrying a good book. No, I’m calling about the Sydney Writers’ Festival. Guess what?’ Julieanne paused dramatically.

‘What?’ asked Jed cautiously.

‘One of the authors has appendicitis! They’d like to put you on a panel with Thomas Keneally!’

Thomas Keneally! She’d actually meet Thomas Keneally! And a whole festival talking about books, and people wanting to talk about HER book too. But . . .

‘I’m sorry. I’d have loved to, but I can’t.’

‘I’ll babysit Mattie.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Jed shortly.

‘Honey, Sam’s not going to wake up suddenly and not find you there. If there’s any change, the hospital will call you.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why won’t you come?’ Julieanne sounded carefully not exasperated at all.

‘Because he’d be there if it was me. Always. And because I want to be there. What if he’s locked away in a motionless body and the voices around him are all he has?’

‘Blue and Joseph will take over for you,’ said Julieanne softly.

‘They already do their own times. So do Sam’s mates from the firetruck and the factory. Julieanne, Matilda’s Last Waltz is selling okay, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, extremely well. But it would sell even better if its author pitched in to publicise it.’

‘I . . . I’m sorry.’

Julieanne sighed on the other end of the phone. ‘That’s okay. I just thought, maybe . . .’

‘That being on a panel with Thomas Keneally would tempt me away from Gibber’s Creek for a few days?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Julieanne.

‘Book!’ yelled Mattie impatiently. ‘Mummy! Want book! Book now!’

Maxi peered out of the kitchen as if to say, ‘I have saved our house from burglars, nefarious cats and possums all day. Where is my dinner?’ A scratch at the door indicated that Batbat had eaten the carrots and wanted more.