Shaun’s voice echoed across the parade ground. Thirteen boys were lined up on the grass in front of him, each standing behind a pile of clothes: a pair of army boots, some khaki socks, a boonie hat and a set of folded camo fatigues, all with name tags. I’d placed the kits in two careful rows, at arm’s length from each other.

‘I’ve done three tours of Afghanistan with the Australian Defence Force,’ Shaun said, ‘and I’m here to tell you I wouldn’t have survived those tours without discipline, loyalty, honesty and respect.’

Some of the boys were listening. Others had let their packs slide to the ground and were flexing their sore shoulders. One had taken out his phone. One was already trying on his uniform.

The kid in the Satanic Temple T-shirt was restlessly kicking the ground. He’d lowered his head, so I couldn’t see his face. But there was something ominously familiar about his inability to keep still.

‘Mr Henderson!’ Shaun barked at the phone kid. ‘There’s no signal on this island, so you might as well put that down.’ He didn’t even glance in my direction before adding, ‘Isn’t that right, Ms Ayres?’

As a matter of fact it wasn’t. You could pick up a signal in a couple of spots, but you had to climb a hill to do it. I just nodded.

‘Ms Ayres is the caretaker here,’ Shaun explained. ‘She’s employed by Queensland Parks and Wildlife. You will address her as Ms Ayres or ma’am.’

A few boys spared me a look. Most weren’t interested. Darren certainly wasn’t; he didn’t stiffen or raise his head. He didn’t seem to recognise my name.

Though Rhys’s gaze flicked towards me, he maintained his poker face. So did Joe Malouf. It was Warren Doyle who winked. He was the only veteran with visible scars: a nasty divot near his jaw and another on his neck. Unlike Rhys, who was a big, placid labrador of a guy, or Joe—small and earnest and emotional—Warren had a touch of the maverick. The army had rescued him from a troubled adolescence, so maybe that had something to do with it.

‘Ms Ayres is our commander-in-chief. Her rules apply here. She will always have the last word.’ This was Shaun’s usual spiel, but it never worked. The boys would treat me like a cross between their mother and their maid until I put my foot down. It helped that I was tall and rangy; you always have an advantage when kids need to look up at you. ‘Is there anything you’d like to add, Ms Ayres?’

‘Only that one of the toilets is broken.’ I pointed at the men’s bathroom. ‘There’s a sign on the door of the cubicle.’