Leon patted the old man on the arm, but Grandpa waved him off. ‘Go on with you or I’ll be late for my cake.’ He sounded gruff, but as Leon paused at the door he noticed tears in his grandfather’s eyes.

6

6

Monday was forest day, and Miki woke with lightness fizzing under her skin. Kurt wanted to check the beehives, so they left in the ute early. Miki was in overalls, and Kurt was in hunting clothes: dark-green knitted jumper, khaki trousers, black beanie crammed over his ears, rifle stashed in the back so he could go shooting later.

They drove towards the school, past a group of boys lugging schoolbags. Miki saw Max among them; he was walking with the policeman’s younger son, Callum. As Kurt’s ute roared by, Max looked up at Miki and waved. Behind him, Callum’s big brother, Jaden, booted Max’s backpack so it bounced up, hit his head and almost made him tip over. It upset Miki when Jaden hassled the younger boys. He did it in the shop all the time, using size to get his own way. His father should do something to keep him in line.

From town, the road rolled through open country and green hilly farms, past the sawmill where the whine of machinery and smell of sawdust hung in the air, and workers’ cars huddled beside the corrugated-iron shed. Miki hated the mill because it ate trees. Every day, truck-loads of logs came down from the forest: mostly skinny logs destined for woodchipping, but many large old trees too—ancient swamp gums that had been growing for centuries. Miki couldn’t work out why the loggers kept cutting wood when endless piles of sawn timber sat at the mill, waiting to be taken away. Over weeks and months, she’d watched those piles slowly turn black and then silver.

The forest was close to town, not far from the sawmill, and when they drove into its misty shadows, Miki lowered her window to let in some air. Water swished under the tyres and the wet trees smelled minty and fresh. She was grateful to be out today. Kurt had been dour this morning, and sometimes when he was in a mood he made her stay home. She wasn’t sure why he was so grumpy. Last night he’d worked late on the paperwork, and this afternoon he would go to Hobart for business, which always made him surly. But his current sullenness was out of character—usually their expeditions to the forest made him happy. Something was bothering him. Either it would blow over or he would erupt like a spring storm. Miki knew it was best to keep out of his way when he was like this; she had learned how to make herself small.