When the windows were done, Miki locked the front door and hung the cleaning things to dry in the laundry. The rest of the day stretched ahead of her. Entertainment options were few. Kurt had disabled the TV and hidden the remote controls so she couldn’t watch it without him. All she could do was knit or read. But now she’d been outside and tasted freedom, she wanted to do it again.

She let herself out the back door this time and left it unlocked—she wouldn’t be gone long.

On the back steps, she hesitated with the key in her hand. Should she try the padlock for the storeroom under the shop? She held her breath as she attempted to slide the key in. But it didn’t fit. Kurt must have other keys for his private hideaway.

In the street, she paused, unsure what to do. She saw her reflection in the window, and her eyes were wild. Out here she was somebody else: someone bold and exciting; she barely recognised herself. But she couldn’t stand here all day, hovering in front of her own shop—that would attract attention. So, mustering courage, she walked down the hill, her boots striking the concrete.

She wasn’t alone on the footpath: a man in a fluorescent work vest was coming the other way. Anxious to avoid him, she ducked into the visitor centre, pushing open the double doors.

She’d never been here before, and she stopped in the doorway and gazed around—all these new things were quite overwhelming. A gust of wind blew some leaves at her legs, so she stepped in and let the door close behind her. She was in a large echoing hall that had a wooden information counter to one side and all sorts of displays. It was warm inside. In the centre of the room, a pot-bellied stove pumped heat, and down the back was a silver log-truck cabin for children to climb on. A boy and girl were playing on it now—the boy hanging from the truck door shouting for his mum to come and look, while the girl bounced up and down on the seat.

Miki wandered around, trying to appear calm as she looked at the displays, but she was too agitated to take in more than a cursory impression. There was so much to see: posters and photos, landscape paintings, a massive cross-section of an old tree trunk, rusty cross-cut saws, old maps, ancient glass bottles and wooden boxes. Near the counter, a series of shelves displayed books for sale, polished pieces of turned wood, postcards, soft toys. It was very neat. Miki imagined there must be quiet times here, just like in the shop. She knew how in those moments you could tidy things over and over, trying to stay awake.