Then he had an idea. Maybe his mum might know somebody who wanted a dog—she was connected with everyone in her community. Or perhaps she wouldn’t mind taking Bonnie herself. God knows, Leon’s dad wasn’t much company. A dog might be perfect. He fetched his keys, scooped up the pup, and put her in a cardboard box in his car.

Bonnie was asleep when Leon pulled up outside his parents’ place at Adventure Bay, Bruny Island. It had been tough trip. Bonnie had spent the first hour howling and trying to jump out of the box until Leon’s nerves were jangling. Then she’d finally fallen asleep. It was clear she didn’t take after Rosie, who’d been a much easier passenger.

On the ferry across to the island, Leon had left Bonnie in the car so he could stand up front watching the light shift over the silver-grey water, just as he’d always done on this passage. It had been peaceful until someone tapped him on the shoulder and told him the puppy was crying. When he’d returned to the car, Bonnie had launched herself onto his lap and insisted on staying there. It hadn’t been easy driving the island’s rough roads with a dog draped over his legs.

He hadn’t called ahead to tell his parents he was coming, but he figured they would most likely be home—they never went anywhere these days because of Dad’s health. Mum’s small white car was in the garage, the curtains were open, and there was Minnie the cat, surveying her world from the window. Leon hesitated. He hadn’t thought of the cat; Mum might not appreciate a canine companion for Minnie. But he was here now, so he might as well give Mum the chance to say no.

He transferred the sleeping pup onto the passenger seat then got out of the car, closing the door as quietly as possible so as not to wake her. The scent of salt air greeted him. The soft hiss of waves on the beach across the road. The clacking of a yellow wattlebird in the trees. Everything so still, you could almost hear the grass growing. He’d forgotten how drowsy and peaceful it could be here, how the hush settled as soon as you arrived.

His mother was frowning when she opened the door, probably expecting Stan—but her wrinkles dissolved into smiles when she saw Leon. ‘What a lovely surprise.’ She hugged him, and he inhaled her familiar scent of coffee, flour and perfume. ‘Come in,’ she beckoned. ‘I’ve just baked a cake. I’ll put the kettle on so we can have tea with your father.’

The house was as if he’d left yesterday, but the kitchen seemed smaller and darker—he’d forgotten how it lost the light mid-morning because of the shadowy pine trees.