He’s noncommittal, but I’m not giving up. I know tourists are invading Bali. We all know that. But they won’t stay: there’ll be some other place to go. Bali is for surfers and people genuinely searching for a better way to live. We have a restaurant, a whole bunch of friends, and the perfect losmen a minute’s walk from the ocean. Giving that up would be insanity. But it’ll be okay. Ryan’ll enjoy concrete footpaths, modern cars and eating different food for a few days then he’ll hear something racist or read a newspaper and he’ll remember why he left. And I’ll join the chorus whenever anything here bugs him.

I want to tell Ryan what’s going on with me, about the car crash and Beau, the commune and the cops, but I don’t want to muddy the waters. I keep to my lines of Brisbane bad, Bali good. When the dust settles here I want to be sure I have a place to go.

Abby is back home from taking the kids to wherever she took them. She lugs a brown paper bag of groceries onto the counter then goes back to the car for the rest. They go through a lot of food.

It’s oppressively hot; a downpour of rain causes the temperature to drop for about as long as it takes to drink a glass of juice, then the sky clears and the sun ratchets up the heat. Then there’s the never-ending pre-Christmas organising to do and drive and buy, which makes it feel stressful in this house. The rush is not mine to deal with so I watch and listen, but I know for sure this is not how my family home will be, if that ever happens.

The days here have felt long, and aside from my excursion with Dad I’m not sure what to do with myself. When Ryan and Sal get here they’ll need to spend most of their time with family, in the beginning at least. I decide to read through the newspaper and see if any bands are playing tonight. Might catch up with some friends I haven’t seen since I was here last.

I try to chat to Abby while she puts her groceries into the pantry and fridge, fills Woof’s water bowl, wipes muddy paw prints off the floor. ‘Where’s today’s paper?’

She makes a grumbling sound to indicate she’s annoyed, though I don’t see how answering a question is such a big deal. ‘No idea, Charlie.’

‘You keep them in the living room, yeah?’

‘Why don’t you get up and go look?’

She’s cranky about something so I drop it. The phone rings before I can search for the paper.

‘I’ll get it,’ I say. I’m worried the call could be something to do with our visit to the commune.

‘Well it probably won’t be Roberts,’ she says as I pick up the phone.

‘Hello? Hang on a sec.’ I cover the receiver with one hand. ‘Why not? Anything I should know?’