Miki thought about this. It was one thing to dream about going, another to actually do it. And the hardest step on any journey was the first. Kurt would never release her—so would she always remain in his cage?

‘He doesn’t own you, Miki,’ Leon said. ‘You are your own person.’

She stared at the white lines flicking beneath the car, the grainy texture of the tarmac, the blur of fence posts flashing by, the looming presence of clouds, cars whizzing in the opposite direction. She thought of the accounting books and the strange cash deposits, and her eyes shimmered with tears. ‘Money is coming into our bank account from somewhere,’ she told Leon. ‘It’s not our regular income. I can’t work it out.’

‘Doesn’t Kurt have business in Hobart? That’s what you told me.’

‘Yes, but there’s a regular payment coming in from another bank.’

‘Maybe he has a separate account to make transfers.’

‘Maybe … That does make sense …’

‘Perhaps you have to ask him,’ Leon said. ‘You’re entitled to know.’

But Miki wasn’t entitled to anything where Kurt was concerned. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, already knowing she wouldn’t.

40

40

On the day of the loggers’ rally, cars poured into town while Leon escaped in the opposite direction. He knew he wasn’t welcome at the rally, but he had come up with a plan, and now he was enacting it. He swung the curves down to the water then drove along it, past farms and green paddocks on the way to the old people’s home.

Grandpa was waiting in the foyer in collar and tie, an uneven attempt at a Windsor knot clasped at his throat. Leon helped him into the car, and they retraced the journey. By the time they landed at the bottom of the main street, the rally had begun.

The way was blocked by Robbo’s log truck, skewed from one footpath to the other. Leon parked downhill from the truck and ushered Grandpa up the footpath. The old man obliged like a puppet, willing to accept assistance when it was needed. But Leon knew Grandpa had a will of iron, even though he was physically fragile. You didn’t cut trees all your life and burn down a timber mill to protect your wife unless you had plenty of gumption.

Just beyond the log truck, Robbo was standing on the tray of a smaller truck with a microphone clamped in his hand. Further uphill, the road was packed with loggers and their families from all around the region. Everyone associated with the industry would be here. This was their chance to protest against the government for locking them out of the forest. It was an overreaction, Leon thought because, in truth, the government was only resuming a small patch of land.