But not after hitting Melissa in the face. Not after he’d fractured her nose. The boy had hardened his mother. Vernon had thought she’d go support their son, offer her solidarity, sit beside him in the jail cell, stand behind him at the trial. But neither of them went. She hadn’t been once to see him in prison. It was like he’d never left her womb. Like he’d never existed. And they’d never talked about it. Just fallen into this new routine.

‘Yes,’ he finally said, ‘Bill coming out here got me thinking about him. He’s been in there two years. I think he’s suffered enough.’

She pushed her coffee forwards. ‘No amount of suffering is enough.’

‘Come on, Pen.’

Her shoulders were up again now. Resolute once more.

He added, ‘Bill wouldn’t’ve said anything if Caleb didn’t need us for something. He’s not one to stick his nose in.’

She had that empty stare again. Hard to tell what she was thinking. ‘Don’t expect me to come.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I know.’

‘So you’ve forgiven him?’

He thought. ‘I think . . . I don’t know. I don’t know if I have. But he’s our son, isn’t he? We can’t just leave him there. Can we? If it’s partly my fault, like you said, then it’s my job to help fix it.’ He paused, breathing hard. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Do you want me to take him something from you?’

At last she seemed to soften. Her face fell and she looked about, as though confused. ‘No. I mean . . . I don’t know what I’d . . . No.’

They finished their breakfast in silence. He watched the clock on the wall, thinking about his boy. Nearly two years since he’d seen him. The same anger Penelope seemed to still hold had been present in him too since the trial. But his boy was suffering. Had been suffering. Your boy suffering and all you do is think of how it affects you. He’s a separate person from you and he’s your job and you abandoned him. Man up and do your damn job.

He was showering when she headed out for bowls in her freshly ironed whites. She looked in on him and said, ‘Did we do the right thing? Leaving him in there for so long without visiting?’

‘No. I don’t think we did.’

Boodyarn prison was bordered by a sheep farm. A dozen or so animals stood beneath a shelter, eating from feed troughs. Their black faces were in stark contrast to their white fluffy bodies. Vernon walked along the track, having parked the car at a distance, and watched them as they bleated and butted into one another. Stupid things.

The prison building was bland. Being minimum security, there were no big fences, none of the claptrap he associated with prisons from television. Just a few solitary weatherboard cottages, a dirt yard, an administration building. All bleached white in the sun. The football field behind the prison was parched brown, lacking grass. Vernon had never visited before, had only seen the place from a distance as he drove through Boodyarn, had looked in its direction and longed for Caleb to not need this punishment. It looked no better close up.