‘Christ.’ Mitch grabbed her arm, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. ‘Krys, the drain! The bloody drain!’

That’s when I saw it: Scott’s SUV. It was parked up the road, and its brake lights suddenly flared, catching my eye.

‘Jesus,’ I said.

Mitch followed my gaze. ‘Oh, yeah. Bastard.’ He didn’t sound surprised.

‘Scott’s always following me around.’ Krystal’s tone was weary. Defeated. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘You should take out an AVO.’

Mitch gave a snort. He tucked Krystal’s arm under his, then pulled firmly at his hat brim. ‘Is the headmaster—what’s-his-name—is he here now?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘We’ll go and have a word. Thanks, love. I know you’ve been doing your best. It must be hard.’ He flashed me a plucky grin and moved off, heading straight for Howard’s office. Krystal went with him, trudging along like a captive.

I toyed with the idea of following them but decided against it. Howard was likely to blame me for the visit if I did.

After climbing into my Nissan, I pulled out of the carpark. The road was lined with modest houses and a scattering of trees; it was tranquil now that all the parents had gone. But as I passed Scott, I shattered the peace by giving him a long, hard blast on the horn.

I was almost out of sight before I finally lifted my hand off the button. By that time, I felt I’d made my point. I’d put him on notice. I’d vented.

Six minutes later I arrived home, where no friendly flowers greeted me. I braked beside the mailbox and collected a couple of flyers, then parked in front of the garage. Popped the boot. Unpacked it.

I was slinging bags over my shoulder when I realised someone had been moving my planters around.

The roses and gerberas had swapped places.

2019

2019

I PUT JARS over the vicious little nails sticking out of my kitchen floor. Then I waited.

But the campers didn’t return for lunch. They were too busy building rafts on the beach. At around midday I spotted Joe leading Ali and Matt up the jetty road; they’d been sent back to assemble a picnic. I helped them make sandwiches, then stuffed some fruit, biscuits and juice boxes into four large crates. Two of the crates were loaded onto my barrow. Joe carried the third, and Matt and Ali were in charge of the fourth.

I had to push the barrow all the way to the beach—where two rafts were slowly taking shape. There was no sign of the boat or its crew.

‘They left,’ Warren told me with a grin. ‘Couldn’t get out of here fast enough.’