‘I’m glad, Mum. See you.’ Zara hung up and looked for a place to park.

Running her hands through her hair, she sighed. Maybe she’d left Barker too early. Her mum shouldn’t be alone right now. And she could write from anywhere. Perhaps she needed to talk to Lachy about having some more time there. There were plenty of interesting stories in the mid-north and she wouldn’t need to be with her mum all the time—just knowing Zara was nearby would probably help her. And maybe it would help Zara too. She’d been missing the sense of space since came back down to Adelaide.

As she drove by the protesters, she looked out for Sophie. There were about thirty people in the crowd, linked across the gateway into the abs. The trucks wouldn’t be able to get in and out, if there were any coming. The police were there too.

That’s not unusual, she thought. Especially at a protest at an abattoir.

Parking the car, she made sure she had her phone and it was fully charged, then walked over to the group.

‘Hi, I’m Zara from the Farming Telegraph. Can I talk to you?’ she asked the first person she came across.

‘We’re just trying to stop the animals from being murdered,’ he said.

Zara nodded, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of him other than the party line. She tried a policeman who was standing nearby instead.

‘Everyone well behaved today?’ she asked the officer.

‘So far so good,’ he answered.

With a half-smile, she left him alone, knowing he wouldn’t say anything more either.

A man wearing a shirt proclaiming him to be the manager of the abattoirs came to the front gate and the crowd saw him and started to get restless. They shook their signs and pointed at them but didn’t make any noise. Zara decided it was eerie to watch. People with so much passion not using their voices.

‘I’m asking you to leave,’ the manager called. ‘You’re disrupting our business.’

A general shuffle and, in among the crowd, Zara saw Sophie. Perfect; she’d grab her afterwards and talk to her.

She watched as the silent crowd continued to move restlessly and jiggle their signs up and down.

‘We’re not leaving.’

Everyone’s head turned in the direction of the voice, including Zara’s. She sucked in her breath when she located the speaker.

A dishevelled-looking man, with a beard and vivid blue eyes. Even with the beard, she recognised him immediately. Jack.

‘What the heck?’ she muttered, moving in and snapping some pictures. She zoomed in on his face. It was Jack, no question.

‘How can you say we’re disrupting your business when you’re disrupting animals’ lives?’ someone else called out.