Ingrid shook her head but smiled. ‘Well, at least you’ve got a song.’

After school, I hoped like hell that Dad and Caitlin weren’t home so I could lie on the couch and chill beneath the air con and forget about school and music classes. But their cars were in the driveway. When I walked inside the house, Dad was working from the couch while watching the cricket and Caitlin wasn’t far from him, on her yoga mat with her arse in the air. Of course.

Any other Friday night, Dad would still be in the office, except Caitlin had been hassling him about more ‘Family time, downtime, together time’. So I grunted a hello and went through to my room to throw some things into a bag for the weekend. And then I switched on the fan and lay flat on my back on top of my bed. I thought about my room at Mum’s place, how if I were lying on my bed there, cool air would be streaming down on my face from the air conditioning ducts directly in line with my pillow. I missed my plush carpet and my mirrored, built-in wardrobe. The cool and cosiness of my room at home. Being near Mum, Katie and Jane.

I didn’t want to be with Dad and Caitlin but it was way too hot in my new bedroom. So I took my phone and my headphones, went into the living room and flopped on the couch.

‘Don’t get too comfy,’ Caitlin said. ‘We’re going out in another hour or so.’

‘Where?’

‘There’s night markets at Old Aldinga we want to check out.’

No we don’t, I thought, I just want to chill. But if I had to go out, I was getting dressed up.

I had a shower and put on a denim skirt, my high-top Converse sneakers, a white tee, straightened my hair and put on some make-up. Wearing make-up pisses off Caitlin, so I made extra effort with my eyeliner and picked a nice dark shade of lipstick. Seeing her face when I stepped out of the house towards the car made all the effort worth it. Dad just shook his head.

The drive didn’t take long. Dad parked at the football oval and we walked to an area behind the bakery and the new brewery, where there were a whole heap of stalls with things like tie-dyed T-shirts, jewellery, indoor plants, and carts serving wine and oysters. There were people and families everywhere, all types of groups, and some guy playing an acoustic guitar and singing. He looked like Xavier Rudd with all of his dreads, minus all of the yidaki, or what most people call didgeridoos. As we made our way between the stalls I saw a smile on Caitlin’s face as if she’d just strolled into heaven.

And approaching us, barefooted in linen shorts and top, carrying a glass of white wine in each hand, was Michael. ‘Hi Phoebe,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ I replied.