‘I’m going to see if his sister has heard anything,’ said Steffi, her fingers skipping like little fish over the keys again. Emil nodded, sighed too quietly for her to hear. He wondered whether this was going to end up being nothing more than a feature-length version of the usual story, a story which ended up with him masturbating furtively in the toilets at La Chimère, washing his hands, and then – before resuming service – posting something to all his contacts back home to let them know what a wild time he was having over here. Steffi brought up Sal’s details. It was getting hard to remember a time before all this; before this was her purpose, her mission.

25

MELBOURNE, 16:35

Sal stared at the message from Steffi without making any attempt to take it in. Little pockets of data kept sliding onto her phone. Mum was pleading with her to call. Meghan was sending about three texts a minute. ‘Flagging up’ the schedule for the event itself. Some more interview requests that had come in. A potential offer to speak at a conference in Brazil. All these things introduced as if this was a normal work day, Meghan having obviously decided to play dumb from now on about the fact that Sal’s brother was unaccounted for between alive and dead.

Bridget and the girls were discussing whether to do a supermarket order online in advance of the Lorne trip, as if there was a risk the nation of Australia might run out of Pinot Grigio and toilet rolls in the next six weeks. Dec was trying to find out why his Filth Window messages hadn’t been reciprocated, or even acknowledged: U off with someone else babe!? That emoji with laughter-tears leaping out of a face. From the cab’s radio, the incredulous shtick of the youthful DJ. ‘So, can this be right, Ryan? You’re telling me you’ve never used a toaster?’ Almost all the world was continuing. The show of normality was almost totally convincing. But this, and death, couldn’t both be true at the same time. It couldn’t be that all this was happening – and the sun shining, the river shimmering – and yet Dad did not exist any more, for ever and now James might go the same way. The jarring of these mad ideas with the bland brightness of everything else.

Sal let out a little dry heave. She wasn’t actually going to be sick; that was just what it felt like. She gripped the underside of the seat. She just had to focus on breathing and on the tasks, the five tasks, as always.

1. Make this list.

2. Breathing exercises.

3. Circulate the Facebook page as far and wide as possible, getting Meghan to post it to—

‘You want radio off?’ asked the driver.

‘No, it’s fine. Leave it. Thank you.’

1. Make this list.

2. Breathing exercises.

‘We’re going to listen to our breathing,’ she muttered.