‘Why don’t you do this later?’ I ask.

‘Because I want to do it now.’

‘Less muck in the air at night, isn’t there? You’ll get all kinds of tree gunk coming onto your floor now.’

She turns and closes the windows. I’d wanted to offer her a reason to leave the job alone until the air cooled but she’s misunderstood me. ‘Since when do you know anything about cleaning?’

‘I clean at KD.’

‘Should’ve gotten you to do this then.’

‘Sure, next time.’

She stands with one hand over the top of the mop as if it were an outsized walking stick. ‘Where are you going again?’

‘Dad wants to help his friend Rick. You remember him? He used to have all those half-made old cars in his backyard.’

She nods.

‘So Rick needs help moving a bunch of stuff. He has a van. We’re the muscle.’ I hold up my arm as a joke but I’m fit from surfing and KD so I do, in fact, have muscle. She shrugs. ‘Anyhow, we’ll help him out then probably stay for a barbecue or go to the pub.’

I hate how easily this lie tumbles out of me. I could keep going, layer detail on detail. That Rick’s wife would most likely want to feed us, that their older son who’d normally help his dad out had a hernia operation last week.

‘Okay.’ She narrows her eyes. ‘You’re not going to say anything to Dad, are you? Not now.’

‘Nope, that urge has well and truly passed.’

This really is one spotless bathroom. No mean feat with three kids, a dog, and a husband who showers twice a day. And those tiles.

‘Dad’s driving, right? I guess I can ask Mrs Lewis to pick up Sarah.’

‘What about Mark?’

She rolls her eyes. Which is fair. He’s never here.

The phone rings. ‘Don’t answer,’ she says. ‘It’ll be Constable Roberts. He’s been calling me with strange questions. It’s like he and the sergeant are following different theories. I don’t understand, but it’s making me nervous.’

‘He’s going to be more suspicious if you avoid his calls.’

‘Don’t answer it.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Monday 23 December 1974

Charlie

An empty chip packet falls out into the gutter near my feet when I open the passenger’s-side door to Abby’s station wagon. What is it with chicks and cars? It’s like they don’t care. I pick up the ripped plastic bag, throw it back on the car floor and sit on the crumb-dusted seat.

‘Why did you tell Abby we were helping Rick? I told you I’d come up with something,’ Dad says.

‘It’s not that bad of an excuse.’

‘It’ll do, I suppose. Won’t matter soon.’ He turns on the engine and slowly backs down the driveway. ‘Suspect she’ll be glad of some time alone.’

‘She spends plenty of time alone. Seems like the world might implode if Mark made it home before his kids went to bed.’

‘Stay out of it. Their marriage is none of our business.’