‘Their hands were hooked up toward their chests.’

I asked what Snow was doing as Mrs Wallace took in the scene.

‘She was standing by the door, looking pleased as punch.’ She said, “This is Sonya, and her sister Nadia, and that one, that’s Bruno, their brother.”

‘I said, “But what on earth happened to them?” And Snow said, “They have a genetic condition. They started out normal – I remember she used that word, normal – but they’ve been degenerating, losing the ability to talk, and then to go to the toilet, and then to walk. Now they can’t do anything.”

‘Snow said, and I remember it shocked me, “They end up like this: vegetables, and pretty soon they’ll die.”’

I asked about Snow’s tone of voice as she said these things, and Mrs Wallace said, ‘It wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t mocking. She was entirely matter-of-fact.’

Mrs Wallace, by contrast, was overcome with sorrow.

‘I was saying, “The poor things!” But Snow was saying, “Oh, they don’t know anything. I put those lights up” – she meant the coloured light tubes winding across the ceiling – “because the Department thought it might be good for stimulation. But in my view they haven’t got a clue what’s going on and that’s a blessing.”’

Mrs Wallace struggled with what she called ‘competing emotions’ at the situation: sadness for these children, and I suppose a kind of grudging respect for Snow Delaney for taking in all three long after their parents had given up. ‘I certainly wasn’t judging her by her demeanour. I know that some people – surgeons and undertakers and aged-care workers – sometimes have a blunt manner of speaking, even a kind of gallows humour, just to help them cope.

‘And it wasn’t as if I was bearing witness to any abuse. The room was clean – there was nothing in there to get cluttered – and the children seemed to be as comfortable as they could possibly be in the circumstances.

‘So, to be honest with you, Mr Fawcett, my main concern at that moment wasn’t for them, it was for how Polly might fit into a home like Delaney House. I remember saying to Snow as we walked back down the hall, “Polly’s obviously much less . . .” And Snow said, “Yes, your Polly’s probably Category One.”

‘I’d never heard a phrase like that before and I must have looked a bit confused, because Snow said, “Most of the children we take here are Category Two. We’re getting $600 a week for each of these. For your Polly, we’ll obviously get less than that.”’

‘How did you react when she mentioned money?’ I asked.

‘I was concerned! It didn’t seem right. But then again, who was I to judge? She was doing respite work for money. No shame in that. I’d been told that Snow was a registered nurse, so why shouldn’t she be paid? And as I say, there was nothing there I could actually fault: the room was clean, and the children weren’t in pain or anything like that.’