But a withholding kid sometimes. Finally she said, ‘Is Mrs Flann okay?’

‘She’s in hospital. She’ll be okay.’

Another silence. ‘Was she drunk?’

‘Yes.’

Katie wasn’t looking for a life-lesson, so Hirsch said nothing. He’d let her ruminate and prod the matter into a shape she’d find satisfactory. He began to accelerate, heading out of the town, past the shop, the sign to the side-street grain dealer, past Martin Gwynne and his wife attacking their box hedge with electric clippers. Martin paused in the act, narrowed his eyes to see Hirsch sail by. Joyce Gwynne paid no attention. Hirsch saluted and then he was on the outskirts, passing the silos.

A kilometre further on—mirage shimmers on the unspooling highway, the afternoon sun high and hot—he saw two figures in the distance. They clarified: not mirages. Daryl Cobb and Adam Flann on the other side of the road, heading for the town.

Hirsch braked and pulled onto the gravel verge. All around were grain heads and wheat stubble behind drooping wire fences choked with parched roadside weeds. Farm tracks, a couple of exhausted gums, and one distant farmhouse roof behind a cypress hedge. Nothing else under the vast blue haze. What were the boys doing out here in the heat? No water, no hats, no shoes—just rubber thongs on their feet.

He wound down his window, propped his elbow on the sill. ‘Want a lift?’

They gaped at him, burning up, exhausted. ‘Come on,’ urged Hirsch, ‘hop in.’

Daryl Cobb stared down at the softened asphalt. A shapeless, indistinct boy, the down on his cheeks adding to his general blurriness.

Adam Flann was sharper: slight and calculating. ‘We’re good,’ he said with sleepy insolence.

‘Don’t be idiotic, get in,’ Hirsch said, intentionally harsh. ‘I’ll run you back to Daryl’s, take all of two minutes.’

Adam glanced uneasily back the way they’d come, murmured to Daryl, and they crossed together and slid into the rear seats with barely a disturbance of the air. Hirsch said, ‘Buckle up,’ U-turned and headed back towards the town. ‘You guys know Katie, right?’

Daryl grunted. Adam said, ‘Her mum’s your girlfriend.’ A hint of smartarse in it.

Katie swivelled and leaned into the gap between the seats with friendly interest. ‘Hello.’

No hello in return, but Hirsch sensed shoulder shrugs from each boy. He imagined their jumble of emotions: not cool to say hello to a kid; embarrassing to ride with a cop; now he’s going to ask us what we were up to.

Hirsch said, ‘What on earth were you two up to?’

‘Just having a walk,’ Adam said.

‘Right.’

A minute later, Hirsch braked outside Daryl’s house. He switched off, turned to the boys and said, ‘Before you get out.’

‘What?’ said Flann, hostile now.

‘Adam, your mum’s in hospital.’

Explaining, he watched confusion, contempt and acceptance flicker on the kid’s face. ‘Wayne know?’