Daryl flopped into the chair. He stared at the table. The window light revealed a faint layer of irresistible dust. Hirsch watched him lift a hand from his lap, reach out, swiftly finger-stripe the dust, snatch back his hand. Flann, looking on, shook his head.

Sensing the older boy’s impatience, and thinking the kid had a point, Hirsch began. ‘Daryl, Adam, I want to begin by thanking you both for coming, and we should all thank Mrs Washburn for her goodwill and generosity in this matter. As you know, we’re here for you to acknowledge that you stole from Mrs Washburn and to apologise. It’s not a court-ordered procedure, but it’s still to be treated seriously. Daryl? We’ll start with you.’

Cobb darted another desperate look at Washburn. ‘Sorry, Nan, Mrs Washburn. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry.’

‘Thank you, Daryl. What I would like now is for us to put it behind us and move on, what do you think?’ She paused. ‘How’s your mum?’

Daryl Cobb wouldn’t look at her, didn’t know where to look. At last he whispered, ‘She’s okay at the moment.’

Hirsch turned to Flann. ‘Adam?’

Flann said levelly, ‘I’m sorry.’

A lengthening silence. Hirsch was about to break it when Nan Washburn said, ‘Are you, Adam?’

Hirsch winced. He watched, waited.

Flann took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I broke into your shed and drove off in your ute, but I had to get home, me mum had an accident and I couldn’t get hold of Wayne, and you know how it is.’

Hirsch watched Nan. Judging by her expression, she was unmoved by the apology. She probably sensed what Hirsch did: that the boy took this lightly. Stealing her ute was no big deal, and anyway what sort of an idiot left their keys in the ignition? He’d go on loading his apology with extenuating circumstances until the cows came home.

She gave Hirsch a bleak look, turned back to the boys. ‘Thank you, Daryl, thank you Adam.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Cobb reflexively.

But Flann stood. ‘That’s it? We can go?’

No one wanted to prolong the session. ‘You may go,’ Hirsch said.

‘Come on, Daz,’ Flann said, jerking his chin at Cobb.

When they were gone, Washburn said, ‘Well, that went as well as could be expected.’

‘Can’t win them all,’ Hirsch said. ‘Thank you for making the time.’

They wandered along the corridor, across the foyer, out into the sun. A hundred metres away, a dozen people were gathered outside the shop.

Spotting Hirsch, Martin Gwynne broke away, trim and natty in chinos and a short-sleeved shirt, and approached at a run, carrying an iPhone.

Nan Washburn gave him a dazzling smile. ‘Hello there, Martin. Lovely morning. Is something wrong?’

She can’t stand him, Hirsch thought, amused.