She wondered where he might have hidden the books. He wouldn’t take them up to the forest, so they must still be here. Methodically she searched all the rooms, riffling through cupboards and drawers.

Then, in a panic, she checked the bins. He wouldn’t have thrown them out, would he? He knew how much she loved those books.

Baffled, she considered other hiding places. He could have put them in his room under the shop, or perhaps he’d stashed them in his filing cabinet where he kept everything else. The storeroom had always been inaccessible, of course—Miki’s key had never worked in that lock. And the cabinet was likely to be out-of-bounds, too; Kurt had changed all the locks. But perhaps she should at least try to open it.

She retrieved her key and entered Kurt’s room. The cabinet stood beside his desk in the corner. She slid the key into the lock but, as she’d expected, it wouldn’t turn. She pulled it out then tried again, jiggling it carefully in case the teeth hadn’t engaged.

With a soft click, the lock released.

Her chest tightened. Why hadn’t she tried this before?

The cabinet rattled as she drew out the top drawer. It was a mess—Kurt clearly wasn’t organised. Papers had been shoved, overflowing, into torn manila folders. When she eased one out, a shower of scrunched receipts spilled to the floor like autumn leaves. Aghast, she dropped onto hands and knees, gathering them up. Surely there’d been no order to the way they’d been crammed in—hopefully Kurt wouldn’t notice.

At his desk, she shuffled through the receipts. They were ordinary purchases he had made for the shop, all essential for tax. She replaced the file and pulled out another. This one contained a ledger with records of income. The figures weren’t great, but they were similar to her regular mental calculations, and they showed what she already knew: that Saturdays and Sundays were by far their best days, thanks to the tourists and Mum’s Night Off. They weren’t getting rich; it wasn’t easy to make a fortune out of fish and chips and hamburgers.

She slipped the file back in the drawer and wondered if she should stop her search. It was wrong to go through Kurt’s papers without his permission. But shouldn’t she have the right now she was eighteen? Feeling justified again, she drew out the next file, which contained the monthly rental payments. She scanned the numbers, and her stomach clenched in surprise. Their income covered the rent, but the profits were slim. How had they managed to keep afloat? And how had Kurt bought the ute and the boat, which he had ordered last week?