He pulls away. Does she really think he’s going to make it that easy for her? That a bit of affection and a walk is all he needs right now?

‘Kiama, we need to talk.’

He eats the last of his sandwich with effort, half hoping she’ll leave the table, but she doesn’t give up. ‘I don’t need to talk,’ he says eventually, but it doesn’t sound convincing, because of course it’s the one thing he needs right now more than anything else.

‘No. Okay, well, I do. I’ll talk,’ Yvonne says.

He looks up at her and nods.

They walk along the dirt road outside Purity’s house, following the path up to where the houses become thinly spread. They pause in a large field which overlooks the town. Below are a few blocks of flats and the roofs of the messily placed houses. In the middle sits an old-fashioned white wooden church Kiama hadn’t noticed before, how comes? Perhaps he’s been so busy looking for reminders of Mum that he’s failed to really look at the country she loved, to see it for what it is, rather than just the place that took her away.

He stops and stares, making an effort to take everything in before sinking down on the grass. Yvonne follows.

The sound of singing drifts up on the breeze, there must be a service taking place in the church below. It looks so out of place here, like it’s been plucked from the Deep South of America. He wants to share this with Yvonne but instead bites his lip.

‘How’s your head?’ she asks.

He looks down and shakes it, ‘Been better.’

‘I was worried.’

‘So, what’s new? You’re always worried. Must be exhausting.’

‘I know you’re angry. But you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that. I was terrified.’

But this is the thing; everyone around him does whatever the hell they like. Mum pulled him from his life in London when she wanted a change, Yvonne ran a mile when it suited her, Dad picks and chooses what he tells him about the past, yet he’s the one who’s left, expected to be extra careful and to think of everyone else’s feelings all the time.

‘Where did you sleep? Or did you stay out all night?’

He sighs, are they really still talking about this? ‘There wasn’t any danger, Yvonne. I went to a bar then went back to some girl’s house for drinks with a couple of British students.’

‘You’ve got a black eye.’

‘I got punched because I drank someone else’s drink.’

‘And your money?’

‘I lost my wallet because I was too high to look after it.’ He pulls his knees in towards himself and lays his head on them for a few moments.