‘Then don’t worry. Everyone gets a blocked pipe sometimes.’

‘But with the roaches too…’ She seemed to want something from me. Reassurance? Gossip? Suggestions? I couldn’t work it out.

‘What can I tell you, Krystal? Pat Haas was at school. She was standing near the bags. That’s all I know.’

The wet noises continued on the other end of the line. I couldn’t just hang up on her, so I said, ‘I’m still working on that report. But I’ll definitely have it to you by Friday.’

She gasped. ‘Oh, shit. Will it include the cockroaches?’

‘Well…’

‘Please don’t include the cockroaches.’

‘I’ll be focusing on Aaron’s behaviour. He ran away after the cockroach incident.’ A soft whimper from Krystal made me add, ‘But there’s no evidence those things came from your house. I’ll make that quite clear.’

‘It’s because of my application. About the parenting order. That’s why Joyce is doing this.’

I couldn’t argue: Krystal was probably right. On the other hand, it did sound nuts. ‘You should get a report from the school counsellor,’ I said firmly.

‘Scott was at my work yesterday. He’s always hanging around there, trying to freak me out.’ The ragged story erupted from Krystal like steam under pressure. ‘Some stock went missing but today we found it hidden behind a stack of old pallets. I think it was Scott. I think he’s trying to get me sacked.’

Again, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t her mother or her best friend. What did she want from me? ‘I’m sorry. You’re having a rough time.’

‘They’re trying to drive me out of town. Him and Joyce. They’ve been talking to our neighbours. I don’t know what to do.’

Neither did I. ‘Ask your lawyer.’

‘I have.’

‘Then call Legal Aid. Or…is there a local women’s refuge? They must see this sort of thing all the time.’ I was no expert, but I figured anyone who was an expert must be plugged into the nearest family violence network. ‘Maybe they could refer you to someone. Or give you a plan of action.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s worth a try.’

I looked up various phone numbers for her because she seemed incapable of doing it herself. At the same time, I wondered why the hell I was counselling a woman I barely knew. Didn’t she have anyone else to help her? What about Mitch, or those other McCalls?

When at last I got rid of her, I felt drained. I certainly didn’t feel like tackling the report she’d asked me to write. But it wasn’t going to be an easy job, and I knew that leaving it till the last minute would be a mistake, so I dragged out my diary notes.