Tom came rushing out of the kitchen to meet them, bumping into the walls as he did. He hugged Monica first, then swept Eliza up into his crushing, muscular arms. He wore a singlet and track pants. He smelled of whisky. ‘I’m so sorry, Eliza. I —’

Eliza put her finger on his lips and he went quiet, but he didn’t let go of her. ‘I’m not hearing another apology from anyone today,’ she said croakily. She pressed harder on his lips, the stubble on his cleft chin scratchy against her finger. He released her, but didn’t pull away from her finger, so she pulled it away herself.

‘The police called. They’re going to come around later to ask some more questions,’ he said.

‘What have they told you? What’s happened? Tom, I haven’t seen you since yesterday . . .’

‘Aunty Leesey!’ said seven-year-old Wren, running up to her. She had cornflower-blue eyes like Tom but honey-blonde hair like Monica and Eliza, plus a mouth full of missing teeth.

Eliza swept Wren up into a fierce hug. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said into her hair. She felt love and tenderness rush through her. She didn’t want to let go.

‘I told the police what I could,’ said Tom. ‘They had a million questions about the four girls, about the others on the trip, the timing of things, whether the girls had seemed strange yesterday . . . whether you had seemed strange.’

‘Me?’ said Eliza, putting the squirming Wren down. ‘What did they want to know?’

‘I’ll make some lunch,’ said Monica hurriedly.

Tom raised a hand. ‘I’ve already started making sandwiches. You ladies go sit down.’ Monica hesitated, but Tom grabbed her shoulders and steered her towards the big lounge room, where a charcoal-grey couch swept around the corner, facing a huge TV. ‘Please.’ He planted a kiss on all three of their cheeks – Monica, Wren, Eliza – and walked back to the kitchen.

Sarge, Tom’s Boxer-cross-Rottweiler, came out of the corridor, claws clacking on the tiles. Speckled with dry mud, he rested up against Eliza’s side, looking up at her lovingly.

‘Come watch Piebald Rangers with me,’ said Wren, tugging at Eliza’s hand.

‘No, sweetheart,’ said Monica, ‘we need to keep an eye on the news.’ She turned to Eliza. ‘Sunrise are doing a special with live coverage from the search, all day. Remember when they did that for the miners at Beaconsfield?’

‘I think Piebald Rangers is exactly what I need right now.’ Eliza patted Sarge’s head and then let Wren lead her into the lounge and onto the couch beside her. ‘I don’t think I can handle hearing about the teacher who lost four girls on a school hike.’