I shouldn’t have laughed but I did. ‘Compromised? Like a spy you mean?’

‘No, like a person who’s committed a crime that the police know about. Compromised. They could use it against me, against my clients, at any time.’

‘But they won’t, because we’re doing a quid-pro-quo thing.’ I’d thought she’d be impressed with me throwing some Latin in, or at least smile at it, but she was genuinely spooked. ‘You should do your course like you planned. You’ll be a great lawyer, probably help a bunch of people the police don’t care about. Anyway, it’s Queensland. Everyone’s compromised.’

It’s three nights till New Year’s Eve. Abby says I should go with her and Dad to the street party being organised by Lou, and that Ryan and Sal can come, too. But New Year’s in the suburbs doesn’t appeal.

Ryan and Sal have been pinging between his family in Hamilton and hers in Noosa since they flew in on Christmas morning. Which could mean he’s ready to leave by now. But just in case, I’m stockpiling stories of tedium and small-mindedness for when Ryan starts to romanticise life in Brisbane, as I promised Sal I would.

I’m glad they’ve arrived in time for New Year’s. That means we get to spend two of them together in one year. Back in March, we celebrated Balinese new year, Nyepi, the way the locals do. Apparently it’s not universally agreed that ringing in the year involves vats of alcohol and bags of dope to help you forget all the bad decisions, wrong words, wasted days of the past twelve months.

Ketut had invited us to spend Nyepi with his family at Wayan’s house. He told us to be there in the morning with plans to spend the night. That seemed like a long New Year’s event to me, but they like to celebrate. The previous three days had included statue scrubbing, exorcisms and public displays of handmade effigies – fangs and bug eyes and crazy hair – which were later destroyed in a bonfire.

Ryan, Sal and I showed up at Wayan’s in the morning to a full house. Made was there, as well as a bunch of aunts, uncles and children, and Ketut’s sister, who always regards me with the disdain owed a foreign moocher. I began the day in good form, asking Wayan how old she was, before taking Ketut aside to find out when we’d start sharing spliffs and drinking beer.

‘Not today, friend. Juice and water. We stay indoors, thinking and resting.’

So Ryan, Sal and I sat on chairs, lay on day beds and slept, which would’ve been fine except we’d only woken up a short while before. We talked about leaving. But Ketut explained the whole island was closed down – no shops or bars open, nobody wandering about – and roving police would be enforcing that, so we agreed to stay.

Since Wayan was there I figured at least we wouldn’t go hungry. That is, until I noticed she wasn’t occupying her usual position in the kitchen but instead lying on a mat, with two small sleeping children wrapped around her.