“Technically,” said Gary, “it’s Tupperware.” I realised he was trying not to laugh. Trish drove an elbow at him.

“Do you want our help or not?” said Trish. “I don’t know about your mum, but Gary’s is Not Impressed. Get in.”

They can’t make me! The violence of the thought startled me. Gently, Bettina. They cannot make you lose your temper. I could still change my mind.

I stepped forward. The late-morning sunlight rose from the road, thick as molasses. Easier to stay home, where I knew what would happen, what would be said. But that spark of temper hadn’t died, and I was angry at my own reluctance. Trish raised her eyebrows. She was wearing mascara. I could see where it crusted on her eyelashes. I could smell her deodorant. A lady tried never to smell of anything except a hint of flowers.

I wrenched myself forward, scrambled in and slammed the door behind me. My heart was beating hard, but I sat stiffly, hands clasped on top of the container, trying not to press against Trish’s bare shoulder.

Trish stared at my dress. “Hold on” was all she said. The truck bolted forward and I caught at the handle as we tore down the street, all crowded together far too close for comfort. Too close for me to slide down out of sight of the neighbours, even if it was unladylike. Last time, we must have been smaller. Last time? I shouldn’t have come, I realised. Clearly I wasn’t well. I should stay home.

Too late. We were nearly through town, then onto the highway. Surely we were far above the speed limit. My stomach was falling away.

Gary drove with his elbow on the edge of the open window, fingers tapping a pattern on the side of the door. Trish slid down in the seat and put her boots on the dashboard, wrists resting loosely on her knees. From time to time she glanced at me, at the scar on my cheek. I looked out the window. I didn’t remember ever truly leaving Runagate. The tidy houses, the high blue-white water tower, the historic windmill, the shouldering silos folded quickly and vanished behind tossing trees.

“I asked around,” said Gary. “The only strangers in town yesterday were two men picking up geese at Hale Motors. I didn’t get a good look at them. Did you?”

I shook my head. People can change a lot, even in three years, and I barely remembered my brothers’ faces.

“Geese?” said Trish.

“Bus delivery,” explained Gary.

“The bush is weird,” said Trish, as if she hadn’t lived half her life here. She grimaced at the clouds of gold and green leaves billowing at the top of a cutting.

“Casey Hale said one of them slunk off and the other was jumpy about it, so they could have been the ones who wrote on Tina’s fence.”