The shut-off valve was outside, near the composting chamber. It was a ten-second trip. As I went to turn off the water, Shaun followed me, speaking in a low, urgent voice.

‘I’m sorry. We’ll pay for the damage. Can you fix it?’

‘I can fix it.’ I had plenty of spare fittings: hoses, washers, pipes, pipe clips—even stop taps. The only thing I’d run out of was fill valves. ‘I just have to get my tools.’

‘Right. And while you do that, we’ll find out who’s responsible.’ Shaun’s gaze swept the parade ground, jumping from face to face. ‘It would’ve been noisy.’

‘And hard. You’d need a bit of weight behind you.’

Shaun grunted. He seemed to be measuring the distance between the huts and the men’s bathroom. Though the veterans slept in huts, each of them also spent two hours a night in a room off the boys’ dorm. The idea was to have someone at hand in case any campers wet the bed or played up.

‘Would we have heard, do you think?’ Shaun asked. ‘If someone was kicking a tap off a wall?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe. It’s pretty quiet around here.’

‘I didn’t see a single kid get up during my watch. They were conked out. But the other guys might have spotted something.’ Shaun rubbed his freshly shaven jaw. ‘A few kids went to the toilet while we were making beds this morning. It got pretty loud, as I recall.’

‘Mmm.’ I was looking at the huddle of boys waiting to use the bathroom. ‘Did you tell ’em about the tanks? Five-minute showers?’

Shaun nodded, his eyes narrowing.

‘Well, maybe someone wants us to run out of water so you’ll have to pack up and leave.’ Seeing him frown, I added, ‘We won’t run out. We’ve got multiple tanks. The only thing is, you’ll have to use the women’s bathroom while I fix this one. And keep clear till the floor’s dry. We don’t want any cracked skulls.’

I hurried back home without waiting for an answer. The veterans began to issue commands while the boys raised hell. ‘We’re not girls!’ Connor protested. ‘We can’t use the girls’ toilets!’

I don’t know what he was afraid of. Girl germs?

My dad’s old toolbox was in my laundry, along with the spare screws, clamps, fuses and wall plugs. The laundry opened off the kitchen and the kitchen lay at the rear of the house. I had to walk down the hallway from the front door to get there—and I’d just passed the bedroom when I smelled it. A rotten smell. A bad-meat smell. I thought, That bin needs emptying, but as I moved towards the kitchen, the smell seemed to fade.

From the kitchen threshold I saw instantly what was wrong. Back door open. Bin missing.