‘It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m sorry too, mate.’

His boy, like this. What he’d done. There was no lesson here for Caleb. Nothing so noble. He’d just been abandoned. That was all. The boy deserved to be punished for what he’d done, yes. Certain as the earth. Nothing he could do now would take back what he’d done to his wife. But what came after the punishment? Who was there to help rebuild him? Vernon was sorry he’d ever had the idea to be harsh. He’d lost two years—two years—with his boy on some silly notion of discipline drilled into him by the army, his father, his community, his country. His boy needed punishing, yes, but he needed his father too.

They held each other for some time, neither wishing to let go. Vernon, through gritted teeth, realised this was the first time he could remember actually hugging his son. Such shame then, almost felling him. He eventually pried himself away and held his son’s face and met his eyes. ‘You’re alright, mate. Alright? It was my fault.’

‘I shouldn’t’ve done it. I’m sorry.’ Caleb wiped at his face. Which was sunken in. On his left cheekbone, stitches covered a gash two inches long.

‘I thought . . .’ the old man said, then thought better of it. ‘Alright. You’re alright.’

He found a plastic chair like the one in the front office and plonked himself into it. Immensely tired, all of a sudden.

His son smiled sadly. ‘I’ve been wanting you to come for so long. I kept thinking you were ashamed of me, just left me in here to rot. That’s what it’s felt like.’ He scratched at the gash on his face.

Vernon noticed for the first time that his right forearm was in a cast. Decided not to ask about it.

‘You ever read the Bible?’ Caleb asked.

‘Got your name out of it, I think. So your mum says.’

‘I know you never read it when I was a kid . . .’

‘I don’t really have time for that stuff, mate. Bill Kelly takes care of all that for me.’

‘Ah,’ Caleb said. ‘He tell you to come and see me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did he say?’

Vernon took a moment. ‘Told me you needed me.’

Caleb nodded. ‘Anyway, you know the story of the prodigal son?’

‘Yeah, he runs away from home, right? Then goes back and the dad’s all forgiving?’

‘There’s a bit I kept re-reading in there,’ Caleb said. ‘It talks about the son being out in the pigsty eating the slop. And I kept thinking that’s where I am, and what I wouldn’t do to be able to go home and be back to normal. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave here.’

His father nodded. Remembered he’d taken to hanging up on his kid when Caleb tried calling home early into the sentence. That he’d help push his face into the slop.

‘I shouldn’t’ve left you in here, mate. I shouldn’t’ve.’