When he was gone, revving down the lane in the ute, she sat in the shop looking out at the streetlights in the dark. A great stillness spread around her. She could hear the hum of the fridge, the buzz of the fluorescent light, the clock ticking on the wall. The shop was large and empty, but everything seemed close and confined. In the darkness, she was a Tasmanian devil in a Polypipe trap. Her skin itched. She decided to go out. Walking in the dark wasn’t ideal, but now she knew the taste of freedom she was constantly craving it.

She fetched her hidden key and let herself out into the damp evening. It had been raining most of the day and water was still running in the gutters, the air fresh, grassy and rich. She roamed the streets, dodging puddles and spying through people’s windows. She had begun to discover where everyone lived. Robbo’s log truck was a giveaway, and Max’s family was up the same street; Shane’s rusty ute and Max’s dog Rosie confirmed it. Leon lived just next door; the white Toyota parked out the front had a Parks logo on the door.

Down another side street, she watched TV through someone’s front window until she realised that being on the outside, looking in, was as sad as being on the inside, looking out. Unless you engaged with people, you were still very alone. This reality sent her home again. It wasn’t just freedom she longed for: she wanted companionship.

In the little lounge room behind the shop, she plumped the cushions and swept up some wood splinters Kurt had left on the floor when he carried in the wood. Then she lit the fire. When the embers were glowing and the room was warm, she fetched Far from the Madding Crowd from beneath the pile of home-knitted jumpers in her wardrobe. It had been more than a week since Geraldine had given her the book, but she hadn’t dared read it when Kurt was at home. Now was a good time.