‘Hi,’ replied the boy, an enfeebled version of the kid Paula had seen in the supermarket. It never ceased to amaze her how normally sparky children could so suddenly become wan and limp and knocked around by sickness and then so quickly bounce back.

While Paula examined the boy and took his temperature, Ruby dashed over to pause the Bluey video, then hovered close by like an anxious parent.

‘I gave him some of that,’ she said, indicating the paracetamol. ‘That was the stuff they gave us last time he had the ear thing. I gave him the amount it says for five years old. Two hours ago.’

Ruby was earnest, as if she were doing a hospital handover, so Paula responded with a serious, respectful nod. ‘That was exactly the right thing to do, Ruby.’

As Paula looked in Jye’s ears with the otoscope, she asked, ‘Are you guys home on your own?’

‘No. Well, Jye’s dad is out. He took the ute. But our mum’s here. She’s having a lie-down.’

Paula followed Ruby’s gaze towards the closed bedroom door. The girl then took a step to plant her body between Paula and the view of the door. A protective impulse. She didn’t want this stranger even to think about her mother, let alone go snooping. She didn’t want some stickybeak middle-class doctor lady judging her family.

‘You know what, Jye?’ Paula said. ‘I reckon your sister would be a very good doctor. She’s exactly right about what’s wrong. You’ve got an ear infection. The good news is I have some medicine here that’s going to fix you up.’

Paula turned to Ruby. ‘I see your bottle of paracetamol is almost finished. How about I give you this little one to last you until your mum can get to the chemist?’

‘Oh. Yeah. Ta. I mean, if that’s okay.’

‘Definitely okay. And here’s the antibiotic I want Jye to take.’ Paula handed Ruby a bottle of liquid amoxicillin. ‘If I write things down for you, you can measure out the right amount to give him, can’t you?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. No problem. I mean, I think so.’

‘I’m sure so. You’re doing a good job looking after your brother.’

Just as Paula was writing a list of instructions for Ruby, the bedroom door swung open.

A woman padded out of the dark bedroom in bare feet, wearing loose drawstring pants and an oversized man’s shirt. She was probably in her mid-thirties but it was difficult to be sure. The physical resemblance to Ruby was clear—this woman had the same slight, lean build, the same sharp but attractive features, the same big brown eyes—but if she’d ever had the same fierce spirit and self-possession as her daughter, that was long gone. This woman was worn down, a defeated human being.