Bobbie starts cooeeing and doing a frantic ‘pick-me-up-too’ wave. I wave back in a friendly ‘see-ya-later-cuz’ way. Uncle stares straight ahead.

I pretend not to notice how hard Uncle’s gripping the steering wheel or the waves of extreme pissed-offness crashing around the car. For once I keep my mouth shut; this really isn’t going to end well, hopefully for Troy. Roaring up to the hospital, we pull in to where Mum’s waiting. Squeezing between the seats I flop into the back as Mum jumps in the front.

‘Where we goin?’ Uncle growls.

‘Edna’s place.’ Mum didn’t growl back but I know the tight-lipped look that goes with that tone. That’s scary enough.

She turns in her seat, eyeballing me.

‘Did Bobbie hear anything else?’

‘They reckon she was out at the Potters’.’ I say it fast, like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.

Uncle swears a streak and Mum goes pale. There are good and bad property owners around. The Potters aren’t the kind of people we’d go anywhere near. Their long-running hatred of anything darker than tan is well known. Nan always said they were a family that bred hate. They’d ‘discovered’ their bit of land right after the Archer brothers settled on Eidsvold Station, naming it after their home town in Norway. The Potters decided they were going to do one better, calling their property Akershus after some famous castle in Norway. It set off a big rivalry that went on for a while, but where the Archers moved on, the Potters never did. Then again, the Archers ended up with a station renowned for the cattle that came off it, and a whole town established close by and named after their place. Akershus was the poor cousin left to wither somewhere on the back roads between Eidsvold and the next town over, Mundubbera. No one could pronounce the name, let alone spell it, so it just got called the Potters’ place. All their grand ideas shrivelled up and they’d blamed the local blacks for it. No one really knew why exactly, but Nan always said bitter people don’t like logic, it doesn’t suit their victim mentality.

‘That it?’ Mum grates.

‘Pretty much.’

She faces forwards. Nothing else is said as Uncle burrs up to Edna’s. She’s Troy’s mum and I really have my doubts on whether we’ll find him there. If you’re hiding from the cops how silly would you be to hang around the place you live? My face drops in disbelief when we pull up to see Troy’s car parked at the back, plain as day. Mum twists around again to look at me and forgets her anger long enough to chuckle.

‘Some people are beggin to be caught, daughter.’ Then she’s all business again. ‘Now, you stay in this car and do not step a single foot outside, no matter what happens. Is that clear?’