The operator asks for more details but I can’t give her any. She assures me someone will be on their way.

I pay for parking at the boom gate, then emerge out onto the street. The building is not so far away. Ten minutes if traffic is clear. I’m in the car, flying out towards Southbank. I think of his words. They ring in my mind again.

If I ever lost her, I’d grab a taxi and take the next flight out. I wouldn’t hesitate.

I park up outside the building and climb out. My heart is knocking. I scan the street, waiting to see police cars arriving but my hope is already wilting. There are so many people already awake, going about their morning business. He’s probably left already.

I see someone. It looks just like him. He is wearing his hood up, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s rushing towards the road, from the entrance of the Sirius. He looks flustered. It’s him. And the police aren’t here yet. He’s in a rush. I can hear distant sirens. He has the scanner; he must have been listening. He knows they’re coming. Now I see him throw one hand in the air, waving at a passing cab. It doesn’t stop. He rushes across the road, weaving between the cars.

Then he is on the other side of the road, striding quickly, his head down and arms pumping. The sirens are coming closer, but they’re too late, the street is getting too busy already with cars and pedestrians. Anger boils inside me, making me forget for a moment about the trembling fatigue in my arms and legs. I climb out of the car and rush into the traffic. A horn blares. I make it to the middle.

Trapped there, I watch Cormac disappear down a side street. A momentary break in the cars, I bolt across. More horns but I make it up onto the curb and run the way he had gone. Turning down the side street, I hear a woman’s voice on a speaker. The next train to depart is the 9.05 City Line, stopping all stations to Flinders Street.

I rush towards the entrance and down the steps to the platform. My hand slides along the handrail. At the bottom of the steps I turn. He’s there. I’m frozen for a moment, just watching him, reliving all those conversations. The hours I spent trying to help him. He’s looking down at his phone while a dozen or so people on the platform all do the same. I find my eyes fixed on Cormac’s back. He’s probably organising a flight right now.