“Then you aren’t observant,” said Trish. “I bet you cross the street rather than walk past the pub.” She hoisted herself up in the seat and pulled cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket, such as there was, of her shorts.

“Not in here, Trish,” said Gary.

“Betty wouldn’t mind, would you, Betty?” she said. “Or—no, wait, let me guess, you don’t smoke, either.” She flicked the lighter a few times. “All right. That’s the reunion. So glad I came home for the holidays.”

“Why are you here, Trish?” I asked coolly.

She stretched her legs. “The primary appeal of Runagate is nothing happens. Two television stations. I don’t think they’ve heard of the internet.”

“There’s a new terminal at the cultural centre,” volunteered Gary.

Trish ignored him. “Then suddenly Tina Scott, responsible for all the trouble I ever got in from my dad, and who hasn’t spoken to me in—well, a long time—calls. So what, I ask, is the emergency?”

“Nothing,” I said at the same time as Gary said, “Her brothers.”

“Chris?” said Trish, with an odd tone. “And Mitch? Are they back in town?”

“Maybe. Or someone who knows them well enough to bother stirring things up.”

“It’s probably nothing,” I said firmly. Such a foolish hope to start a journey on.

“Better not be nothing,” said Gary. “I’ll bill you for the fuel.”

I still felt numb, but my head was clearer. Gary had made enquiries. He wouldn’t be driving all this way if he hadn’t thought there was a chance Mitch and Chris had come home—I resolutely did not think of my father. Gary and Trish wouldn’t come along because they liked me.

“That’s why you’re still in town?” she asked. “I thought you’d bolt as soon as they opened the gate. You’re bright enough.” She looked at me critically. “Well, you were.”

“Trish,” said Gary.

“Of course, you meet all types at uni,” Trish continued. I hadn’t realised she was at university.

“What are you studying?” I asked. But perhaps that was indelicate. Mother said she had been sent away, as if disgrace was attached to it. I tried not to think too closely of what my mother would say about this adventure. Imagined words fluttered against my mind.

“Teaching, surprisingly enough,” supplied Gary. “She missed so much the first time around.”

Trish hit him, and the truck swerved. I held on.

“Is that … wise?” I asked gingerly, glancing at Trish’s unlit cigarette, her tattoo. “Are you a…” I faltered. She had a piercing in her nose. I hadn’t noticed that before. “A good example?”

Gary cleared his throat but didn’t look at me. Trish did nothing but stare. The truck shook over rough road, and Trish blurred at the edges; I looked away.