From Zac: I’ve emailed you those documents, dude. Sorry, I was at uni so my phone was off. Are you on your way there now?

‘Daddy,’ Sophie said, ‘would –?’

I raised a finger, smiled. ‘Hang on, sweetheart, just a second.’

My email, boom, there it was. I opened it. Three attachments. I downloaded his driver’s licence: Zac Batista. It showed him as … wait, as twenty-one, not twenty-two. Then a bank statement with our home address, boring. The third was still downloading – hurry up.

His Confirmation of Enrolment at the Melbourne Business School.

Fuck. There they were: the school’s letterhead, the university logo. Name: Zac Batista. Career: Postgraduate. Attendance Mode: Internal. Program Name: M. Of Supply Chain Management. The individual course codes and titles: Foundations of Supply Management, Procurement and Logistics, Emerging Topics in SCM …

I said to the kids, ‘Can you guys go do your teeth?’

‘What will we do with them?’

‘Olly, please.’

‘OK, fine, you big meanie.’ He stood, sloped off.

‘You too, Sophie. I’ll come through in a few minutes.’

She got to her feet, trailed after Oliver.

I rang Biddy – hurry up. ‘Hey. I need to send you what he’s sent me, I’ll email it to you, but I reckon it looks legit.’ I was sinking. How was this even –?

‘Send it over.’

I forwarded the email, hands shaking. Texted Zac: Yep, thanks, just heading there now! Will let you know!

Sophie appeared at the door, toothpaste on her chin, brush in hand. ‘Can you come help me, Daddy?’

‘Come on then, sweetheart.’ I stood, held my back, looked in on Sarah. She was sleeping – good.

I tucked in the kids, stood to turn off the light.

‘Can we have a story?’ Oliver said.

‘Yeah, a story,’ Sophie said, clutching her hippo from the naturopath.

‘Right, yeah, OK. But not Jack and the Beanstalk.’ I’d read it to them twice in recent weeks and, instead of Jack Spriggins, could only see Jack the Dom, Sarah’s golden harp, Biddy’s unfertilised eggs.

‘Thumbelina?’ Sophie said.

‘I hate that one,’ Oliver said.

‘What do you mean?’ I took the book from the shelf, sat on his bed. ‘Sophie, you want to come over and snuggle with us?’

She threw back her doona, came over, climbed over my legs, wedged herself between Oliver and the wall.

‘There once was a woman who really, really wanted to to have a little child but –’ Dingding. ‘Oh, sorry, Olly, could you just pass me my phone, mate. It’s down there.’

He tutted, reached to the floor, nearly fell.

From Biddy: Can I call??

Fuck, boom.

I texted: I’ll call! Reading to the kids X

‘Is Mummy coming through to perform a bedtime poem?’ Sophie said.

‘I think she’s asleep,’ I said. ‘She’s been so tired lately with her exams and work and –’

‘It’s a shame she fell,’ Oliver said.

‘Yeah, I know. So, right, where were we?’