He stepped out from behind the table before they could argue and grabbed Eliza’s elbow, steering her towards a makeshift café that was serving espresso coffee, the barista lining the takeaway cups up on the table. A group of farmers mingled there, dressed in Akubras and hi-vis, filling the air with strained and overloud laughter.

‘The barista only makes cappuccinos, I’m afraid,’ said Darren, passing one of the cups into Eliza’s hands. ‘I prefer a flat white, myself.’ Eliza noticed the plain wedding ring on his finger, the dirt under his nails. ‘Drink. Get warm. It’ll be cold up there. Unless it’s not – who knows with the Tiers.’

Eliza let the cup warm her hands, as Darren gestured towards a door that led out to the hall’s enclosed yard.

‘Thank you for coming. Thanks to you, I’ll have an excuse to get up there and join the search myself.’

‘Can’t you just assign yourself to a team?’ said Eliza. ‘I thought you were in charge?’

He laughed. ‘Apparently I’m more useful down here, even if it’s just so people can see me gesturing at maps.’ His eyes pinned hers. ‘If I’m being honest, I was hoping you’d arrive. You’re the most valuable asset we have, Miss Ellis. I want to go exactly where they found you and search there.’ He looked her up and down and nodded, approving her attire. ‘They told me you were an experienced hiker. Are you ready now?’

‘You want to go to the Lake Nameless trail.’

‘The others in your group have helped us locate where they found you, but I’d like to see what you make of it. Does that sound like a plan, Miss Ellis?’

She fingered her headscarf, the memory of the queasy ache still fresh. ‘You can call me Eliza.’

He inclined his head. ‘Miss Ellis.’ Wannabe searchers glanced their way, calling out, but Darren ignored them. ‘I hope you don’t mind, we’ll take my Yamaha. I’ll just find you a helmet, and I’ll grab some hiking packs from the SES and a few others to help us.’

They stepped out of the community centre, into sunshine and light wind.

Eliza and Darren walked up the steep muddy hiking trail. In the low branches of an alpine cider gum was a Bassian thrush, its flute-like song trilling around them. Eliza shivered. These birds only came out at twilight or, like now, when it was so overcast it felt like twilight. It seemed a bad omen.