‘No. We can’t.’ I knew how busy he would be the next morning, and I couldn’t wait until the following night. ‘It’s okay. Come in. I’m having chamomile tea—do you want some?’

‘No, thanks,’ said Shaun. To my surprise, Warren accepted. As I put the kettle on, Shaun gave me a quick rundown of his afternoon in the bush. Leaning against the fridge, arms folded, he looked immensely tired. The overhead light cast deep shadows across the crags and hollows of his face.

‘Jake must have circled back,’ he said. ‘All his rations were gone by the time I caught up with him. I reckon he was planning to raid the kitchen.’

I wondered what else he might have been planning to do.

‘Little bastard needs a good hazing.’ Warren’s voice was hard and dry. ‘He still won’t admit he came back to wipe his prints off your bin, Rob.’ Frowning, he glanced down at the bin in question, which was sitting in its usual corner. ‘Is that…?’

‘Yes. I washed it myself.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ He and Shaun exchanged a guilty look.

‘It’s all right. You had a lot on your plate.’ It was true: Warren had been in charge while Shaun was out searching. ‘But I honestly think Jake is running rings around you. If you can’t make him admit to anything—’

‘Don’t worry. We will.’ Shaun sounded confident. Warren buried his face in his mug of tea. ‘We’re already making progress with some of the other kids,’ Shaun went on. ‘I gave out badges tonight—not just to Ali and Matt, but to Marcus and Zac and Tyler as well. And Dean’s finally responding. He was really making an effort with his orienteering today.’

‘Probably so he could escape and find his way home,’ Warren muttered.

Shaun frowned. ‘No, Dean’s starting to engage. Rhys saw it in the kitchen. You did too, didn’t you?’ He turned to me for support.

‘I don’t know.’ Just because Dean liked sticking things in the blender didn’t make him a budding chef. ‘Speaking of the kitchen, I’m not comfortable having Jake there anymore. Are you sending him home tomorrow? Because you should.’

‘We can’t,’ said Shaun. ‘If we do, they’ll all go bush. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it.’

Warren was studying me, his eyes almost hidden in their deep crevices. ‘What happened, Rob?’

I told him. I described exactly what Jake had done in the vegetable garden—what he’d said, how he’d looked, why he’d run. ‘That was sexual harassment. He’s got a real problem. I’m a tough old boot, so it didn’t bother me, but what if I’d been some poor girl his own age?’

Warren frowned. ‘You’re not an old boot, mate.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Shaun was shaking his head. ‘I’m really sorry.’