Then daughter and family moved back to Adelaide, ostensibly because their rural handicrafts business had failed; probably to escape the smothering, and their departure left a hole in Martin’s life. Unfulfilled by his roses and wife-bossing, he threw himself into town and district affairs: he had expertise, he explained, and wanted to give back to his new community. Soon he was representing Tiverton on the district council, chairing the tennis club committee, organising fetes and working bees for the Anglican church and writing letters to the Stock Journal and the Redruth Argus, dispensing wisdom.

Interfering in Hirsch’s work life.

Mindful of law and order issues, having a keen interest in police procedures, and being Tiverton’s elected district council representative, he was concerned to keep abreast of local policing activities. He had theories to offer. Advice to give. And wasn’t it a lucky thing he’d been on hand to save Hirsch’s life from Brenda Flann’s out-of-control Falcon?

A man who’d sulk if he wasn’t fully appreciated, Hirsch thought. A man who’d hoard his grievances.

He realised he had no idea how to deal with Martin. And what if it wasn’t Martin who’d snitched to the Internals?

Hirsch’s shortest route to Pandowie Downs from a southerly approach was to cut across country at Mount Bryan and wind around to the dark side of a stony spine known as the Razorback. The land out there was parched, the roads powdery and chopped about. Hirsch headed up and down the folds of the earth, dust boiling thickly in his wake. His wrists juddered on the steering wheel.

He came to the intersection of two flat, empty roads and took the Pandowie Downs turnoff, a sunken road between stony erosions and weedy paddocks dotted with dun-coloured merino sheep. Ten minutes later, reaching the stone pillars that marked the driveway entrance, he almost turned around and headed for town. Did he really want to face Rex and Eleanor Dunner just now, after the day he’d had? He took a breath. Build bridges. Forge healthy community relations. He was sure he’d read exactly those words in a memo. But had he replied to it? Joke, Paul. He checked the time. Almost five o’clock. If he was lucky, he’d be home by seven.

He turned in. A sign on one pillar read: Pandowie Downs Unique Outback Experience Accommodation Horse Riding Mustering Seasonal Shearing Demonstrations All Welcome.