A woman was sitting behind the counter. She was soft-looking and middle-aged with a mushroom cap of grey hair. She smiled at Miki, and her eyes were like half-moons, her mouth kinked upwards at the corners. She seemed friendly, but Miki was too nervous to talk to her. Instead, she slipped behind a blue velvet curtain into a small room where a video was playing to empty rows of yellow plastic seats. Miki sat down. She felt safer behind the curtain where nobody could see her.

On the screen, a man with a rotund belly and bushy beard was talking about Tasmanian devils. Holding up a poster, he explained the breeding program at his private wildlife park. He spoke about an illness affecting devils called facial tumour disease. While he talked, the camera crossed to devils with sores and lumpy wounds on their faces. In some cases, the tumours had eaten away the devils’ faces so the poor creatures looked like monsters. Miki felt sick. The man was saying how much he loved devils and wanted to save them. He said the tumours were caused by a disease passed on by bite wounds. Devils bit each other all the time; Miki knew how an argument over food could easily lead to a fight. She wondered, with a flash of panic, whether this disease had killed the other two adult devils at the tip last year. They’d had sores on their faces. The man said all the devils were dying—ninety per cent had already gone. He spoke of losing them forever. Miki was so distressed she couldn’t listen anymore. She stumbled into the main hall and wove numbly through the exhibits, heading for the door.

‘Are you all right?’ The lady behind the counter was speaking to her. ‘You look upset.’

Miki hesitated. Could she put her trust in this woman? ‘I saw the film about the devils,’ she said miserably. ‘I didn’t know about the disease.’

The woman tutted sympathetically. ‘Yes, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?’

Miki gravitated towards the desk. The woman had a kind smile and crinkles at the corners of her eyes. The name tag on her generous bosom said Geraldine; on the counter in front of her lay a thick, forked-open book.

‘I think I’ve seen devils with that disease,’ Miki said.

Geraldine looked concerned. ‘Around here?’

‘Yes. At the tip. Some of them disappeared.’

Geraldine’s face twisted with worry. ‘We need to tell someone. Devils are a Tasmanian icon. We’re afraid they’ll go extinct like the tigers.’ She paused. ‘I’m Geraldine, by the way.’

‘I know.’ Miki pointed to her name tag.

Geraldine smiled. ‘And you’re Miki, aren’t you? From the takeaway.’

Miki was surprised this woman knew her. Was it possible that everyone in town knew everyone else, except her? What else didn’t she know?