Cars roll along the road below us, gathering speed as they travel down the hill, spraying water when they hit the puddle of sludge that’s formed in a dip. A dog howls. I exhale and watch the smoke curl and rise against the darkening sky, up and then gone, motion without consequence. I make a note to tell Abby. Then think about how many cigarettes it would take to cause air pollution.

There’s a knot in my gut from listening to their affectionate stories about Skye (crazy, evidently, but loved), from waiting to hear my dad’s name, from knowing that Beau is only a few walls away, from being unsure if Finn knows anything or everything or nothing. Separate from the accident, Finn has to be angry that I tried to take his son but he says nothing, doesn’t mention it aside from calling me Water Rat. His calmness is freaking me out.

We need food. Around nine o’clock, Ryan drives with Sal to Milton Road to get hamburgers. Ryan’s the only one of us remotely straight enough to drive, doesn’t see why that means he should have to go on his own, and the decision about who stays, who goes is arrived at silently, poker faces all round. Sal’s already made it clear that I’m bugging her, and while Ryan would never admit it, leaving Sal alone with Finn is asking for trouble. And Finn’s not going anywhere.

So here I am with Finn. It’s not exactly comfortable but what’s he going to do? I’ve been hit before and survived, and he doesn’t have his rifle. I’ve seen curlier situations. My fear lifts a little more with each mouthful of beer, each breath of dope, and I find myself – ludicrously – wanting to win him over. I’m not sure if everything I’ve heard about him is true. It’s not like Ryan to misjudge someone that badly, whereas my dad and I haven’t always agreed about people.

I hold the longneck out and tilt it towards Finn. ‘Top up?’ He nods, lifts his empty glass.

Is it possible my father lied to me, or that Skye lied to him? Finn’s a dope grower, but I have no problem with that. In bed with the cops, but sometimes bad things happen to good dope suppliers, so I can excuse that, too. And his aggression towards me was to protect Beau from would-be kidnappers. That’s more than reasonable behaviour – it’s what a responsible father would do. And it wasn’t him who blurted out news of Skye’s death. Maybe Finn had been shielding Beau from that until he could break it to him gently. Also, I can’t think of a single time either Ryan or Sal has expressed any tolerance for violence, so . . . My head is spinning.

Finn stretches his legs out, sinks further in the chair, then says: ‘I’m a little curious how you came to be at my farm.’

A fair question. ‘My dad promised Skye he’d make sure Beau was okay. And he did, so we won’t be back. Seems like he has friends, lots of space to run around.’