But whenever he got close to blowing up and telling her to bloody well wake up to herself, she’d come to him with those wide, wet eyes holding out a thing she’d uncovered—a Twister mat, a box of worn-down crayons, a pair of tiny rollerskates—and she’d say, Remember, remember, and he always did, and for a stretch they were kids again, nearly sick with laughter at twisting their bodies over the game board while Aunty Nic bent low to examine, pretended to be stern as she advised that Lena’s left foot wasn’t exactly on red and Will’s right hand was off the edge of the blue. They were kids colouring the free cartoon placemats from Maccas and then sniffing the crayons because a boy at Will’s school said you could get high from doing that, and when Aunty Nic caught them she told them that boy had crayons for brains and they used that insult ever since. Kids again, playing out the backyard in the summer, Lena on those bloody skates, Will pretending not to care that she had a pair and he didn’t. Pretending not to be interested in her at all, only in the (admittedly cool) handheld solar-powered video game he’d got instead of rollerskates. And then Lena stacked it and instead of crying she laughed and couldn’t stop, which made Will laugh, too. Both of them cracking up while her knees bled through the new holes in her jeans. Aunty Nic came out with some first-aid stuff and said, I saw from the kitchen. One minute looping around and the next—whoops—arse over tit, which made it even funnier, though it was hard to explain that to Mum when she went crook later about the jeans being torn and stained with mercurochrome.

Then Lena’s phone would buzz or vibrate, her giggles or tears would stop, and she’d snap back into this alien, furious, closed-up girl, slam the childhood memory into a garbage bag.

Mum texted to ask if he was looking for work while he was in Sydney. She was worried he’d sink into habitual unemployment, become like so many of the people she grew up with. He spent ten minutes dutifully scrolling through local job postings before clicking on a link titled So You’ve Been Made Redundant? which advised him to Use the opportunity to rediscover and follow your passion. It reminded him of the prison orientation video which said to view your time in custody as an opportunity to make positive life changes. When the video finished an intake officer asked him about work skills and education, and Will said he’d love to use this opportunity to continue his childcare studies. In response he was handed a piece of paper detailing his laundry duty schedule.