‘He loves Tim Tams.’

‘Then I’ll buy him a packet. In case he gets hungry.’

I hung up, not realising that I’d just spoken to Krystal for the last time.

By noon on Sunday I was growing impatient. Krystal hadn’t called. No one had. I tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up—and I’d left Mitch’s number at school. Eventually I had to knock on his door.

He wasn’t home. His ute was gone. I figured he was at Krystal’s new place and cursed myself. Why hadn’t I asked for the address?

I dropped by again in the early evening, on my way back from the local pool. This time Mitch’s ute was parked outside his house—and Krystal’s car wasn’t. Neither was Scott’s, I was pleased to see. There were lights on, though the blinds were closed.

When I knocked, Mitch took a long time to answer. Finally he opened the door and peered through the crack.

‘Oh. Hello,’ he said. All the fizz seemed to have left him. He looked old and worn and worried.

‘Hi, Mitch. I was wondering what to do about that couch.’

He stared at me blankly.

‘The one Krystal left in my garage?’ I prompted.

‘Right. Yeah. The couch.’ He rubbed his thumb across his forehead, his gaze drifting away from me.

‘She said you were going to pick it up today.’

‘Yeah. Sorry. I did my back in.’ He winced as his hand moved from his face to his spine. ‘Can it wait a bit?’

‘I guess so.’ It wasn’t as if I actually used the garage—though I was beginning to wonder if I should lock the car up at night, to stop the Rooneys from slashing my tyres. ‘But won’t Krystal need somewhere to sit?’

‘She’s got chairs,’ Mitch replied. ‘Kitchen chairs.’

‘Oh.’

‘We’ll give you a ring.’ He was shutting the door in my face when something occurred to him. ‘Don’t take the wrappings off.’

That struck me as odd, but I didn’t really think about it. I went home and ate my dinner and stalked Annette on Face-book and drank a few glasses of wine. Then I went to bed and lay there, brooding. I wasn’t looking forward to work the next day. I wasn’t looking forward to Aaron.

When he didn’t turn up at school in the morning, I was relieved. I wondered if he was sick—or if Krystal had decided to keep him home after a weekend spent unpacking boxes. She’d said she would be working on Monday, but that might have been a lie. She didn’t leave any messages and neither did Mitch. I had no idea what was going on.

Then, at the end of the day, Scott appeared.