He could howl with hunger. Fucking roar with it. He pulled out his phone (nothing from Mercy) and googled Free dentist Sydney. The first page of results all had the word ‘pain’ before the word free, which sounded good, but not without cost, which was what he needed. He dialled the first on the list anyway, walking out into the front yard as it rang. Smelt like someone had doused a bonfire the second before he’d stepped outside. The phone was answered by a machine, so he tried the next number and then the next. Finally he got through to an emergency dental service. They could see him immediately but it would cost a minimum of $245 for the consultation. More depending on what treatment was needed.

Back inside, he looked at the gaps in the hoard like a man waking from a coma. The newly revealed baseboards and windowsill were coated in what must be years of accumulated grime and laced with cobwebs. Some were grey and stringy, but others appeared freshly woven. Must be spider families scuttling all over the place, shocked by their exposure after living in peace for generations. Living well, it would seem from the black and brown flecks of half-eaten bugs scattered beneath the webs.

The carpet looked almost new in some places, protected from wear and tear and sun-fading; in other places it had been stained by unknown forces, worn through to the under-fibres by pressure or nibbling. And the air was getting worse, not better, the more he cleared out. Like every item had been holding a lungful of dust ready to release into the room when it was moved. He’d blown his nose earlier and the tissue came away bloodied, like he’d been punched.

Will pushed aside several empty plastic crates and leant over a waist-height stack of still-full ones to reach the window. The curtain was caught on something, and when he yanked it the whole thing came down, rod and all, sprinkling insect remains and scat as it fell. With it out of the way he was able to unlatch the window, but it stuck like it’d been glued in place.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Playing basketball.’ He turned to his side, put his shoulder to the sash. His feet were too far from the wall. There was no way to get a proper grip.

‘The air outside is worse than in here.’

‘Impossible.’ He stepped back, moved four crates from under the window to in front of the TV. Lena watched from the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed, face blank. Why had he imagined she’d be happy to see him? Hadn’t they got on best of all when they’d been minimum nine hundred k’s apart?