He said, ‘Guess we better get him to the hospital then.’

They parked in the emergency bay. Vernon realised as he stared at the newly risen sun that today was Easter Sunday. Caleb turned to him from the passenger seat and said, ‘Should I come in?’

‘Do you mean, should you turn yourself in?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

Penelope was sitting in the back with Brendan’s head on her lap. Vernon turned and saw that she was absently stroking his face while staring out the window.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She looked down, became aware of what she was doing. ‘I don’t know, Vernie. He’s in pain.’

Brendan’s face was strained, like clothing pulled taut. His teeth were bared.

‘Best get him inside.’

‘Am I coming in?’ Caleb asked, as his father opened the door.

Vernon stopped and stared back into the car. ‘Do you think you should?’

Caleb took a moment. Looked at his mother, who smiled sadly at him. He nodded.

‘Then come in.’

‘I’ll be going back to jail.’

‘Well,’ Vernon said, ‘I might be in there with you this time.’

Then, with his creaking joints, his back still stinging from yesterday’s burns, and the rest of his body aching in too many places to mention, he got out of the car and helped lever Brendan from the backseat. With great difficulty he and Caleb got him to the front of the hospital, leaving Penelope in the car. The automatic doors opened and they waddled inside and dumped him on the carpet with what strength they had left. The nurse behind the counter immediately came around and started calling out directions. Medical staff hurried up, looked into Brendan’s eyes, stretchered him down the corridor. Vernon stood there looking after him with his hands on his hips.

Then he and Caleb seated themselves on the plastic chairs and waited for the police to come. They didn’t take long. The officers had the look of men who had been working all night. Caleb told them who he was.

‘You’re the one who escaped from prison then, yeah?’ the older of the pair said.

‘Yeah. That’s me.’

Soon a second police car arrived and took his son away from him once more. Before Caleb left, Vernon put a hand on his shoulder and tried to instil in him some sense of calm. Caleb wasn’t cuffed, and he walked to the waiting police car without fuss.

Outside, Vernon looked over at his wife, who was still sitting in their car, but she refused to watch as her son was led away.

The first two officers had followed him out. ‘We have more questions for you,’ one of them said.

‘I know.’

‘So don’t go anywhere.’

‘Why? Where are you going?’

The policemen looked at Vernon’s car. ‘We’re going to go and talk to your wife. Get her story first.’

‘Alright,’ Vernon said. He added, ‘Hey, where’s Wornkin?’

The policeman gave a grim smile. ‘She’s in there, in hospital. Your mate that you checked in, Brendan Cahill, did a number on her down at the station.’