CAMERON AND POPPY WERE FANTASTIC AT PARLOUR GAMES. Paula figured this was a happy by-product of having spent a sizeable chunk of their childhood living on a property off the grid, with no internet, no mobile reception. According to Stacey, the solar batteries often failed, and if the backup generator then conked out, which it frequently did, the house would be without power for an indefinite period. So Stacey had built up a repertoire of activities—puzzles, craft projects and board games—that could be done by the light from LP gas cylinders.

Charades was their favourite. When Cameron first moved into the Earlwood house with Paula, he was horrified that she didn’t know how to play charades.

‘I never learned,’ Paula explained. ‘We didn’t play games in my family.’

Cameron frowned, finding this admission sad and barely credible.

She laughed. ‘I guess I had a deprived childhood.’

Paula’s disadvantaged childhood became a running gag between them. Cameron would tease her, adopting an exaggerated expression of pity. ‘Did you get to eat chicken when you were a kid?’ ‘Did your parents ever read you books?’ ‘Were you allowed to drink water from the tap when you were little?’ He loved that Paula would wail with mock angst, loved that this silliness was their special shared thing. And Stacey was relieved to see her anxious son daring to be cheeky with Paula. It was good to see delight on the face of a boy burdened by so many worries.

Cameron made a big deal out of teaching ‘Poor Paula’ how to play charades. The four of them would write movie, book or song titles on scraps of paper, four titles each, then put the folded scraps into Stacey’s upturned straw hat. They never turned the game into a competition—there were no points or winners or time limits.

‘We play for the glory of the doing and the guessing, don’t we, guys?’ said Stacey. ‘And who needs time pressure? Too much pressure in the world already.’

They took turns—youngest to oldest—which meant Paula went last, being three months older than Stacey. It intrigued the kids that their mother had once been twelve and that she’d been friends with a twelve-year-old version of Paula back in those ancient times.

When it was Paula’s go, Cameron patiently explained the rules, the signals to use, and if she looked stuck about how to act out a word, he would whisper advice to her. Paula made a big deal about relying on his help.