Russ moved to Melbourne after his apartment building was one of those that collapsed into Sydney Harbour. But he was luckier than most Sydneysiders trying to remake their lives here. His background is in marketing, but his brother-in-law, the cabinet minister, seized on a restructure to slide him into the Department. Russ was doubly fortunate in his choice of wife because Porsche is a Melbourne girl. There was a house waiting in Kew, and weekend getaways to her family’s hobby farm on the Mornington Peninsula have never been easier.

Porsche and Russ have a small daughter. Russ has older children from his first marriage, but he’s found fatherhood more exacting this time. As he confided soon after Prada was born, ‘These young wives are something else, mate. They expect us to be involved in bringing up our kids.’

‘You have my full support,’ I said. ‘Please feel free to slip away whenever Porsche needs you. It’d be my pleasure to take care of anything urgent.’

It was three in the afternoon. Russ winked and fingergunned me. ‘Cheers, mate. It’s this Moldovan au pair. She can’t follow the simplest instructions. Last week she let Prada crawl over a floor that had been Roombaed but not Swiffered. Remember the good old days? German girls, Swedish girls lining up for work visas. Even the Albanians don’t want to come out here now.’

Lyric had been in the Department a few weeks when they emailed me requesting a meeting. They got to the huddle space first, and I had to sit facing the window, sunlight blurting across the table and into my eyes. ‘You logged into Russ’s computer last night,’ Lyric said without preliminaries. ‘Why?’

It was an impertinence. They had no right to interrogate me. But I’ve had to practise self-control so often since coming to this country that it’s automatic now. I explained that Russ had asked me to check a report for him. ‘Checking a report for Russ’ means writing it – Lyric and I both knew that.

‘Why did you have to access his computer? Surely Russ sent you whatever files you worked on.’

‘Of course. But we can’t always know in advance which documents I’ll have to consult. Last night I needed information that wasn’t in the files I had.’

Their fabulous brows drew together. It was almost thrilling to see. ‘Russ shouldn’t be giving out his password,’ said Lyric. ‘It’s against protocol at his level. He’s got access to restricted information.’

‘I feel honoured to have Russ’s trust,’ I replied. ‘I believe it arises from my many years of employment here. But perhaps you should discuss this matter with him.’

‘It’s his flexi-day.’ That, too, was something we both knew. Russ had headed out early the previous afternoon, off to the hobby farm for an extended weekend. ‘He’ll have to change his password,’ Lyric went on. ‘I’ll be taking it up with him the minute he’s back.’