He began the long walk around the curved beach, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the late-night beach walkers but still on edge. At one point the cry of a penguin in the beach laurel by his feet startled him into a yelp, and he nearly bolted for the water. Fighting to bring himself back to a sense of calm, he continued on. The next sound he heard – a bolting trio of deer – caused him to drop to the sand, making himself as flat as possible, until he worked out what they were.

Finally he reached a line of boatsheds right near the marina. Lit up by the marina lights, all of these sheds were in varying stages of repair – some of them looked as though they were still in regular use, but the tideline clearly reached right up under their foundations and made upkeep look difficult.

The small one in the middle with the peeling pastel-blue paint had its door boarded up with fence palings, with a rotting sign that simply said ‘ASBESTOS’.

Bingo.

Forest climbed underneath the shed’s raised foundations and slithered along the damp sand, covered in shells and slimy seaweed, and followed the upwards slope towards the floor. There he found a hole in the floorboards, and he hauled himself up into the shed.

He caught a brief look at the dim interior – the flickering glow from a tiny campfire revealing a sleeping bag – before a weight knocked him over and pinned him to the ground, pressing his face hard into the floorboards.

‘I oughta break your nose,’ said Huck.

Forest laughed, trying to heave the older boy off him. ‘Huck! You’re here.’

‘Shut up.’ Huck had him pinned by the wrists, knee digging into his back. Then he pushed Forest’s shirt up. ‘Shit, it’s true. Who did you get to tattoo you?’

‘Someone who sucks at it,’ said Forest. He took the opportunity to slide out from under Huck and sprang into a crouch. He held out his hand to the tall, lean boy; looked into those green eyes, lank brown curls falling around his suntanned face. ‘It’s good to see you.’

Huck knocked the hand away, pushed him in the chest until he had Forest backed against the wall. ‘What the hell kind of a game are you playing?’

‘C’mon, you knew I was gonna try it.’

‘I didn’t think you were serious! You swore an oath!’ said Huck.

‘Are you kidding?’ Forest stood straighter. ‘Two birds, Huck. I’ll clear your name, and your dad’s, plus I just became the richest boy in Tasmania!’ He flashed the gold-plated credit card.

‘I wanted to put Forest’s ghost to rest! This is doing the opposite! It’s . . . it’s a bloody mockery of his memory!’ Huck took a deep breath through his nose, turning away. ‘You swore an oath.’

‘I didn’t break it.’