‘I’d like to be as tall as you. Where does your mother live, Eliza? Is she in Melbourne too?’

‘She’s not, Sullivan, no.’ It was still so hard to say it. ‘My mum died when I was seventeen.’

His eyes widened. ‘I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me before now? So you’ve lived with your father since then?’

‘No.’ Another pause. ‘I’ve never met my father.’

‘Who looked after you?’

She explained that she was nearly an adult when it happened. That her godmothers had helped her.

‘Helped you? In what ways?’

How did she answer that? The holidays when she was a child. Financially, when she was at uni. The phone calls. Visits. Unexpected gifts. The constant support. Not only when Jeannie died. Ever since.

‘Lots of different ways,’ she said.

‘I can share my mother with you if you’d like. She’s very nice.’

‘That’s kind of you, Sullivan. But I’d say she’s got her hands full with you.’

He gave his funny bark of laughter. ‘She says that herself. Can we please go to the lemurs now?’

They were walking along the path to the lemur enclosure when Sullivan’s phone rang again.

He answered. ‘Hello, Dad! Yes, I’m with Eliza at the zoo. Yes, we’re on our way to see them now. Thanks, yes, you have a good day too. Happy operating!’

After he’d hung up, he reached into his backpack, took out a piece of paper and made a note.

‘Do you keep a record of all your conversations?’ Eliza asked, puzzled.

‘Only Dad’s,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Mum asked me to log any one-on-one time with him here, on the phone or in person. I think she’s planning a legal challenge regarding the access arrangements. I once overheard her tell a friend that Ann-Marie spends more time with me here than he ever does.’

‘Sullivan, I’m so sorry.’

‘No need to apologise, Eliza. One, it’s not your fault. Two, it’s true.’

She followed as he led the way to the lemurs. It was a large, leafy enclosure. There were two separate groups of them, their orange and black-ringed eyes so bright. Their distinctive upright striped tails made Eliza think of bumper cars. Sullivan was smiling as if he’d run into old and dear friends. Several groups of people came in, took a photo, then walked out again.

‘How can they leave so soon?’ Sullivan asked. ‘I could watch them tumble and play all day long.’

After their picnic lunch, Eliza offered to buy him a lemur souvenir. He inspected the gift-shop shelves with a forensic eye.

‘Nothing I don’t have,’ he said. ‘I bought up big last year. A key ring, a notebook, even a lemur cup. It’s time they expanded their range. I’ll email them tomorrow to suggest it.’