When they disappeared, everything had changed overnight. Davey took over the Business, Kane lost the only cousin he had. Ivy became even harder on Mack. All those wedding photos with Jesse and Davey as each other’s best man . . . those happy moments had turned into sad memories.

Forest was back. Could any of that be recovered? Could those absences be filled? And where did Mackerel fit into it? He didn’t even belong in Shacktown anymore, let alone the Dempsey family . . .

‘See, Shelby? He’s slow as ever.’ Ivy tutted. ‘Bring this dimwit if you must, but I’m not responsible for him.’

‘What about Kane?’ said Mackerel dumbly.

‘Constable Linda is here to watch over him,’ said Ivy, speaking to him directly for the first time. ‘What, you think we’d leave him alone? In these circumstances?’

Mackerel felt his face grow hot. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Come on, Shelby,’ Ivy said. ‘Forest is waiting for us.’

The women had a conversation in the front of the car that didn’t include him.

Mackerel was used to it.

He faded into the back seat and watched the view through the windows. The rise and fall of the landscape, the sun peeking out from the clouds the further they drove from Shacktown, the drone fading behind them.

By listening in on Shelby and Ivy, Mackerel was able to pick up a few important things. Like that Forest wasn’t willing to say what had happened to him. That Forest had horrible tattoos on his back. That Forest was scared and broken.

Kunanyi/Mount Wellington appeared in the distance, then the sweeping curves of the Tasman Bridge. They’d be at the hospital soon.

Mackerel felt nervous about seeing the state his nephew was in – he didn’t want to have a full-on breakdown, not in front of Shelby.

The Royal Hobart Hospital was a multistorey building taking up an entire block right in the city. Square windows and clean floors – Mackerel hated it. He was no stranger to institutions, that oppressive sense of all those floors above pressing down.

They’d had to provide ID at the reception desk to prove they were family. Outside Forest’s room, they met a sharp-featured, black-haired woman. She was sitting on a chair by the door, reading Women’s Weekly. She stood up and ran her hands over her pinstriped suit and black tie. ‘Hey there.’

‘We’re here,’ said Ivy. ‘We’re Forest’s next of kin.’

‘I’m Detective De Corrado,’ said the woman, then turned to Mackerel. ‘And I guess you’re Davey Dempsey?’

‘No. I’m M-Mackenzie Dempsey.’ He stumbled on his words.

‘Where’s Davey?’ said De Corrado with a frown. ‘He’s the next of kin.’

‘This is Davey’s wife, Shelby,’ said Ivy impatiently. ‘Can we go in, dear?’ She clutched her handbag.

The detective eyed her up and down. ‘Ivy Dempsey, I presume? I’ve heard a little about you.’