‘Sign,’ I say. ‘Arcadia.’ Neither of us laughs as Dad drives deeper into the rainforest.

‘You know I’m not one for violence,’ I say. ‘But these folks might be, especially if they catch us with Beau. I brought a few things.’ I reach for the canvas bag I put on the floor behind my seat.

‘What’s in there?’ he asks. ‘I have everything.’

‘You don’t have weapons. Neither do I. But I found these – better than nothing.’ I pull out a spanner and wrench. ‘From Mark’s toolkit. Mint condition.’

‘We don’t need those.’

‘Correct. We need rifles. But this is what we have.’

I watch Dad fold one arm across the other to make the turn into the wannabe driveway. The skin of his forearm, where no hair grows, shows lines like wood grain. My father is getting old. He needs a foot soldier who won’t dick around and undermine his plan, however dumb it is. He needs me to help him.

When I step out of the car door I imagine I’m in the wilds of Vietnam, a strange place for my subconscious to bring me since I went to such epic lengths to not go there. And nobody went on more anti-war marches than Ryan and me. We were front of the crowd at the moratorium.

I adjust my bag (makeshift weaponry, two apples, matches, fags), check my shoelaces, and once again try to convince myself I’m doing the right thing. We’re not about to kill innocent peasants and babies; we’re not acting in the name of colonialism or capitalism. We’re rescuing a kid from abusive adults.

‘Hurry up, Dad.’ Now that I’ve found my focus I want to get on with it, and Dad is taking forever getting his pack from the back of the car.

He stands beside me and keeps his eyes on mine as he untangles the straps on his pack. ‘Settle down.’

We walk along the track, not talking, Dad in front. Mostly, I watch my feet. Left, right, left. There’s usually a song in my head when I walk, but not today. I hear my footfall, the crunch of leaves, the peep of birds.

Panic hits me, and I make one last-ditch effort to get my father to see reason. ‘If Doyle knows about this place, and about Finn and Skye, Abby’s house and your farm will be the first places he looks for Beau. This is a suicide mission, Dad.’

‘We’ve been over this. He cares about Beau less than Skye.’

‘Well, his dad then. He’ll come for him.’

‘I’ve never given the slightest indication to anyone except you lot that I’d want a child in my life. As far as they know, why would I want another man’s son? They don’t know if she ever told me about him. They won’t suspect me. We’ll leave no trace. It’ll be like he ran off and got lost in the bush.’ He doesn’t slow his pace. ‘Control your jitters.’