‘Don’t forget Hector,’ Glenys said, pointing to a contorted fossil of a man in the corner, so bent he couldn’t even raise his head.

Leon led Rosie over. The dog seemed to be revelling in her role; she walked straight up to Hector and put her head on his lap. Leon waited for the old man to say something, but the only thing that issued from his twisted mouth was a string of drool. For a moment, all was still: the warped body didn’t move. Then the dog lifted her yellow eyes to peer at Hector, and his shaking purple-blotched hand pawed gently at her head. The room was silent, everyone watching Hector connect with Rosie. Only Leon saw the droplets of moisture that fell onto the dog’s nose. When he looked more closely, he realised it wasn’t Hector’s saliva, but his tears.

When everyone had said hello then goodbye to Rosie, Leon asked after his grandpa. ‘He’s in the library,’ Maryanne said. ‘Do you think you could bring Rosie again sometime? She’s been good medicine for everyone.’

Leon had dug himself into a hole. ‘Ah, yes, maybe. I’ll phone later on and make a time.’

‘That would be wonderful. And, next time, could you bring her carer-dog papers with you? I’ll need to make copies.’

‘Sure.’ Leon waved as he led the dog down the corridor. He was worried about all these lies, but there was a time and place for honesty, and this wasn’t it.

He found Grandpa alone in the library, bent over a book at a large wooden table. Leon announced his presence with a short cough, and Grandpa looked up, eyes sharpening with surprise. ‘It’s you again.’

‘Mum said you wanted to see me. So here I am. And I’ve brought a friend.’

Grandpa frowned at Rosie, then smiled. ‘I didn’t know you had a dog.’

‘I don’t. She belongs to my neighbours.’

‘Looks like she’s about to have pups. What’s that in her side? Stitches?’

‘You’re the first person who’s noticed. Seems like you’re the only one with eyesight around here.’

‘My eyes are pretty good for my age.’ Grandpa pushed his spectacles up. ‘How did you get a dog in here anyway? Maryanne allowed it?’

‘She wasn’t at the desk.’

Grandpa chuckled. ‘Good to know you can get past her. Knowledge like that could be useful.’ He waved Leon closer. ‘I wanted to show you this book. It’s about the logging history of this area. Written by a mate of mine from Bruny Island. I think you’ll find it interesting.’

Leon leaned in to look. The cover had a photo of a large log on an old timber jinker with two men perched on top of it. Grandpa opened the book to a black-and-white photo of four axemen standing on boards notched into the base of an enormous tree.