Judith was calmer now. ‘If you’re ever in Bendigo, come and visit,’ she said.

‘I doubt I ever will be, but thanks all the same,’ Sullivan said.

He went off, already chatting to the airline representative. ‘And what part of the world do you hail from?’ they heard him ask as they walked away.

‘Imagine living with that all day,’ Judith said to Eliza. ‘Do you think he’s got that ABCD brain thing?’

Eliza suspected there wasn’t a label for Sullivan.

After leaving Judith at the right gate and making sure she knew what to do, Eliza walked around the terminal. It was like being in a 24-hour department store, lights flashing everywhere, the air heavy with too much perfume. It was a relief when it was time to board her flight to Edinburgh.

Even before she reached her gate, she heard Sullivan calling her name. He was in the front row of the waiting area, his neat backpack beside him.

‘Great news, Eliza! The flight isn’t full. I’ve asked the ground staff if it’s possible for you and I to sit together. I explained you’re an extremely fearful flyer and you need my support.’

Shortly after, Eliza found herself in the same row as Sullivan again. He was in the window seat, she was on the aisle. Sullivan held out his hand, measuring the space between them.

‘Yes, we’ll be able to reach. Excellent. Thank you, Mosal,’ he said, reading the flight attendant’s badge. ‘I’ll be sure to mention you by name when I send my follow-up email to the airline.’

‘I’d appreciate that, Mr Farrington, thank you.’

Eliza bit back a smile. She’d spent hours with Rose’s children, but they’d certainly never had these kinds of grown-up conversations.

‘Are you an only child, Sullivan?’ she asked.

‘I was, Eliza, yes. But now I have a half-sister. She’s only three months old. I’m actually meeting her for the first time this trip. My father got remarried to a much younger English woman. Mum hates her, of course. She’s repartnered herself, though. He’s a fellow psychologist. They’re undertaking a lecture tour of America together as we speak. You’d think that would mean a harmonious home life, all that knowledge and insight under one roof, but they squabble a lot, actually.’

‘And you go to school in Melbourne?’

‘Yes, an expensive private school. Dad pays for it. Mum had an excellent lawyer.’

‘Do you play any sport?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m more cerebral than physical. I have an aversion to running around muddy paddocks or standing in steamy changing rooms. Fortunately, I get asthma occasionally so that gets me out of most sporting requirements.’ He gave an impish smile.

‘And do you have many friends at school?’

‘Not many. Actually, none. I don’t mind. I read, listen to podcasts, do my study. I top my class in most subjects. I always have done. It doesn’t help my popularity.’

‘And what do you think you’ll do when you finish school?’

‘Go on a bender? That was a joke, Eliza. University, I expect. But it’s early days yet. I might end up doing something unexpected, like pottery. Or DJ-ing. Look, we’re beginning to taxi already.’