Steve looked away, over at the creek where the kids had been playing. They’d all cleared off. It had gone quiet; just a dog barking, a door slamming shut. Someone must’ve raised the alarm. They’d be hiding their kids under the beds, in cupboards. The older ones would have made it into the bush by now.

‘I’d just as soon leave it.’ He kept his voice low. ‘Why don’t we leave it, Harry? It’s never easy when it’s a baby.’

‘It’s not meant to be easy.’ Harry held the car door open for the kid, still with the nice guy smile on his face. ‘You wouldn’t be here if it was easy,’ he said, shutting the door behind her.

‘Not easy for them, I mean.’ He glanced up at the house behind them, where the family lived. ‘It doesn’t seem right, does it?’

‘Jesus, Steve. What are you saying?’

Steve stared back at Harry. Another dog started barking, closer than the first. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

The kid leaned out the window. ‘Where am I going on holiday?’ She was looking wary. ‘Can I say goodbye to Grandpa?’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ Steve said. His voice sounded fake, like an actor with a bit part. ‘I’ll let him know.’

‘Get a bloody move on,’ said Harry. ‘And don’t let ’em get to you. It’s been signed off.’

The house was quiet. Tin-roof verandah and a dog sleeping in the shade. He knocked, not too loud, but footsteps came right away. He braced himself.

‘What’s wrong?’ An old fella answered the door. He was darker than the girl: black skin and white hair, like a photo negative. What Ray would call a ‘full blood’ Aboriginal. He was none too happy to see a copper on the doorstep, and he’d clocked the truck down by the creek too. ‘What’s the problem?’

A baby cried quietly in the front room, out of sight.

‘I’m here about the kids,’ Steve said. ‘You the grandpa?’

‘What d’you mean?’ He took a better look at the truck and saw the girl through the window. He reared back in shock. Tried to push past, hollering her name. Dora.

‘Listen. Don’t make this hard on yourself.’ Steve gripped him by the shoulder and shoved him back into the house, just enough force so he knew this was serious. ‘Let me in.’

It was dark inside, and a tight knot of flies was frantic over a piece of meat on a plate near the stove. Three empty beer bottles lined up next to the sink. The baby was propped up on the couch in a singlet and a nappy. He’d gone quiet, big wet eyes following Steve as he moved.

‘Where’s the mother?’

‘Out,’ the old fella said, and looked at his feet. ‘Her sisters help with the kids. There’s three sisters and five cousins. Plenty of us to care for the younguns.’

‘Look, mate. We’ve been told to take the baby. Orders from above.’

The old fella shook his head. ‘You can’t.’ He picked the boy up and held him tight, both arms across his body. ‘We’re a loving family. We look after the kids.’