Heidi turned to face Emily and said their job, as parents, was to help her overcome what had happened. By coming to Australia—and the doctor in Ipswich had said it was a good idea—they’d wanted to expand Emily’s idea of family. Clearly they’d made a mistake coming to Nevertire. They shouldn’t bring Emily into contact with people who weren’t good for her. Heidi said she herself wasn’t a perfect mother, she was sorry, she didn’t know what she was doing.

In Narromine, they stopped in front of a Lucky’s restaurant, parking the van on an angle. When Emily thought about that day, she remembered the moment they parked the van on the main street, the engine off, and the three of them sat there exhausted, as if catching their breath.

‘They’re open,’ Heidi said. ‘They’re always open.’

‘Is this the same place in that painting?’ said Emily, referring to Ian Asquith’s picture, which then hung in the cold of their garage. The cafe created the impression of a small object suddenly enlarged and come to life—a merging of Emily’s view and her father’s vision. The building looked rosier and more golden than the painting.

‘The same franchise but a different site,’ Heidi said, checking the state of her eyes in the rear-view mirror. ‘I went to school with the owner’s children.’

The doors of Lucky’s opened and almost as one the aproned staff turned to look at Emily’s family. There were no other customers in the crepuscular light of the cafe. The dimness suggested a club, a place for residents. We’re not welcome here either, Emily thought. She wanted to tell them about the painting. Her dead father. They practically had a right to be there.

‘Heidi!’ said one of the waitresses. ‘You don’t visit too often!’

Emily’s mother introduced her family to Dina Pylios, a friend from high school. Dina’s eyes were dark and soft and gave a look of warm attention. The restaurant closed early on Mondays, she explained. ‘But have you eaten?’

‘No,’ said Heidi, shaking her head.

‘Have you been to see your parents?’

‘Been and gone,’ said Heidi.

Dina nodded; she knew what Heidi’s parents were like.

‘Then you will have dinner with us,’ said Dina.

‘We shouldn’t,’ said Emily’s mother.

‘You don’t have a choice. I’m locking the door now.’

Rick helped to push the tables together and arrange the chairs. Out came a large tablecloth and eight of them took their seats—Dina and her parents, her brother, her cousin, and Emily’s family. Glasses of beer and water were poured. At the table arrived cheese and yemista, maroulosalata and sofrito.