She nodded without hesitation and took James’s hand too. ‘I think Tony would have liked it this way, had it ever come to this.’

James noticed his own tears forming. Tony’s unexpected generosity had been a startling idea for him to get his head around. Perhaps it was a blend of his cousin’s guilt about that one night they’d spent together, and all the fallout; or maybe Tony reckoned James was the only one in the family who’d ensure everything was arranged as it should be. ‘I’ll just sign Deloraine over to you both, alright?’ he said.

Yvonne relaxed back into the chair. Pete closed his eyes tight.

‘Alright,’ she said, just as the kettle started whistling on the stove.

Doris emerged. ‘It’s your father, Jamie,’ she said. ‘He wants to talk with you. The Joneses have been stopped in a truck headed for the Queensland border, all three of them,’ she added, excitement and anger brimming out of her while the kettle screamed.

At dusk, James finally got a moment alone with his aunt. Yvonne and Pete had taken the girls into Kippen to collect takeaway pizza for everyone; Dad and Uncle Bill were having a drink with Dylan on the terrace, so when Doris headed up the hallway with an armful of linen, James followed.

She went into Tony’s old bedroom, turned the light on in the bathroom, and was hanging towels as James entered that room for the first time in twenty years.

‘Need a clean towel?’ Doris said from the sink.

The girls had been sleeping in the narrow beds and their toys and books were scattered around, but the room still held remnants of Tony. His twenty-first birthday key hung above the mirror, its shine long faded. On the chest of drawers were school trophies and photos of his cousin playing rugby, his powerful body captured hurtling in the air, one arm out in front, jaw locked in determination.

‘No, thanks,’ James said.

If he stepped any closer towards the bathroom, he sensed his aunt would feel cornered, so James lingered by the drawers until she appeared in the doorframe.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, looking James up and down. ‘We’ve got painkillers somewhere. Shall I dig them out?’

James shook his head, feeling for the photo in the pocket of Uncle Bill’s dressing gown. ‘I want you to have something, Aunty Doris,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ she replied, biting her bottom lip.

It seemed right to just place the picture with Tony’s other things, so James picked a spot where one trophy would hold it up, while another would hide the face of Tony’s lover.