‘How new are you?’ I keep my tone light and friendly but I’m a little irked. It would have been nice if Scotty had texted me to let me know.

‘This is my third month. I’m mostly doing relief shifts but it looks like we’re working together a lot.’

I can’t be angry at her; it’s not her fault. If we’re going to be partnered up for a while it means Scotty is off for a while. I hope he’s not unwell. There is another possibility. He may have changed stations or, worse, asked to be partnered with someone else. But even after what happened, I’d hope he’d tell me if that was the case.

‘Well, nice to meet you Sara,’ I say, reaching over and taking her hand. She wears a little make-up and has a sweet, bright smile, untempered by the flood of trauma she will soon see on the job. ‘You don’t need to apologise.’

‘Okay, sorry,’ she says. Then a nervous giggle. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘No more today, okay? You’ve got to be confident.’

‘Thanks.’

‘All set?’

Twelve hours is a lot of time to spend with someone. Sara’s shy at first but, after a little encouragement, she gushes words like a broken water main. By the end of the shift I know where she grew up, what her parents do for work, the fact she was recently dumped, her grades at high school and all about the first time she ate avocado. She mentions that thing down at Tarawera, but thankfully doesn’t realise it happened to me. I also learn that she caught the bus to work. So when we knock off at four in the morning, I offer her a lift home and she reluctantly accepts.

‘You need a car,’ I say.

‘I’m saving for one,’ she says, sitting in the front seat with the heater blaring.

‘Do you mind if I quickly grab my mail on the way?’

‘Sure.’

Unsurprisingly, there’s no one beneath the streetlights at the post office in Mount Eden. I cross the street and use my key to enter the room lined with those small red boxes. I find my PO Box, and push the key in. When the flap opens, I see a small envelope.

Anna is handwritten on the front above the address. It’s from him, it has to be. He knew my name though, so why put Anna? Why not Lina? I don’t hesitate in opening the package, tipping the contents into my hand. It’s my necklace and the wedding band is still looped through it. I check the envelope again, postmarked for last week. There’s a short note scribbled on a piece of paper that falls out. I pick it up, unfold it and read.

Sorry to hear the news, see you soon.