‘You can’t work all day by yourself,’ he said. The old man’s sense of duty and propriety, and maybe his misguided, old-school sense of honour, would not allow him to simply take her orders. He’d never disrespect the office she held, but he was a man and she a woman. This was him holding the door open for her. It was sweet, in its way. She liked doors being held open for her. Nice that somebody did.

‘Sure I can. I’ve done it before.’

‘There should be more of us, though, working the festival. Shouldn’t there? I can just stay until the parade is over,’ Robert said. He tapped his hand on the counter as though he had ruled a judgement and that was that.

‘Robert,’ she said. ‘Go home. I’m your boss and I’m telling you to leave.’

He regarded her. It felt to her as though he were reading her mind, seeing right through her, her skin somehow translucent. Knowing all she did, understanding her fears. But he just said, ‘Thanks, Sarge.’

She nodded. ‘No need to thank me.’

‘You know my grandson is playing Joseph?’

‘On the church ute?’

‘Yeah.’ Robert’s eyes went up to the ceiling. He returned his gaze to her before saying, ‘He kept trying the beard on at home and telling his mother it was itchy. She was going to make him wear it but I said there was nothing in the Bible saying Joseph had a beard. So he’ll be the first beardless Joseph up there.’

Sharon looked at the clock on the wall, looked at the door.

‘You waiting for somebody?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Just wondering how long I’ve got before I need to get down there and cordon off the street.’

‘I should stay, Sharon.’

‘Robert . . .’

‘Right, right,’ he said. ‘Alright. So I’ll see you down there?’

She nodded. He turned and ambled to the door. Brendan opened it for him, stepping aside to allow him exit.

‘Good to see some young folk still have their manners,’ he said. He gave Brendan a clap on the shoulder before leaving.

Brendan’s shoulders were even more slumped than usual and there was a look in his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept. Or had smoked his own supply.

‘You got him then?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘You mind just making sure Robert has gone?’

Brendan gave a smirk. ‘We were wondering who that car belonged to. Thought I’d come in and make sure everything was all sorted before letting Melbourne in here. You tell him to go home?’

Sharon nodded.

‘Good, that’s good. So,’ he said, ‘the old man’s back there, huh?’ He leaned over the counter and indicated the cell, bloodlust in his clenched teeth. ‘I’ll go get Martin and Judah.’

When Brendan left, Sharon stood quickly and half jogged to the door and put the deadlock in place. She turned and slumped down, her back resting against the door, knees up to her chest. She waited for the door handle to twist. She waited for the banging to start, the Smith & Wesson in her shaking hands.