‘We know you’re home!’ A loud voice: Scott Rooney’s. I wasn’t about to let him in. Instead I went to the bathroom and rinsed out my mouth. Bloodstained water swirled down the plughole.

‘You have to tell us where she is!’ Scott roared. ‘We know you know! You’ve got her fucking couch in your garage!’

I wondered if I should call the police. This was harassment, pure and simple. But would the local cops even care? After all, one of them was Rick Waring.

‘She’s blown it, you moron,’ Scott continued. ‘She just lost her kid. Do you realise that?’

‘We’ve put in a contravention application. Which means we’ll get a recovery order.’ That was Joyce; she must have come along with him. Though she wasn’t yelling, her voice was high and abrasive. ‘When they find her, they’ll take Aaron away for good.’

‘And then you’ll be in deep shit,’ Scott warned me. ‘If she admits you helped her, you’ll be arrested too. Your only chance is to come forward now with any information you have.’ A pause, followed by more pounding. ‘Hey! I’m talking to you, bitch!’

By then I was recording him on my phone. I didn’t know how good the sound quality would be; I was standing at the other end of the house and there was a closed door between us. But it was worth a try.

‘If you’re not hiding anything, why didn’t you let the police search your house?’ Joyce demanded.

Search my house? The police had never even asked to search my house. I wanted to tell her that but decided not to risk it. Don’t engage, I thought.

‘For Chrissake!’ Another barrage of thumps made the walls shake. Was Scott trying to break down the door? ‘That’s my boy out there, you cunt! And I don’t even know where he is!’

‘Except that he’s been to Coffs Harbour,’ Joyce interrupted. ‘Probably because Krystal has junkie friends there.’

‘He might be in a crack house right now and it’s all your fault!’

Scott emphasised the last words with three huge bangs that sent me running to the kitchen. There I grabbed a carving knife and dialled triple zero. After one ring, a recording said, ‘You have called emergency triple zero. Your call is being connected.’

Meanwhile, out on the front steps, Joyce was roaring, ‘This isn’t over! Don’t think you can wriggle out of it! I’m going to lodge a complaint with the Department of Education!’

Then a voice in my ear asked, ‘Do you require police, fire and rescue, or ambulance?’

‘Police,’ I whispered, as Joyce told her son, ‘Come on. This is pointless. She’s too scared to show her miserable face.’

‘Which state are you in?’ the operator wanted to know.

There was a massive thud. Scott must have punched the door again.