She opened her mouth to reply but her mind was blank. He stood up straight and she took a step back.

‘At least I know where my daughter is,’ he said. ‘I know she’s safe, with people who love her.’

‘William’s safe with us!’

‘At least Isla wasn’t taken by a stranger.’ He raised his voice, speaking over her. ‘At least she wasn’t taken from me, God knows where, by some bloke who thought he’d be a better parent than me. At least I have that to be thankful for, don’t I?’

She felt three inches tall.

‘Don’t ask me to keep quiet.’ He slammed his hand down on the counter, and she yelped. ‘He’s not yours. You need to give him back.’

‘It’s not that easy, Joe. He could be taken to one of the Homes if we don’t keep him.’

‘Can Steve take his pick of these kids?’ He gestured out at the yard. ‘Is that the way it works?’

‘It wasn’t like that. He was—’

The telephone rang in the hall. They both turned to look at it.

‘Hang on.’ Joe crossed the room, glancing over his shoulder at her. ‘I need to get that,’ he said.

Mandy stood in the kitchen, holding the door handle. She felt cold with shock. She was a fool for coming over here, expecting – what? She’d thought he might still want her, if she was honest. She’d thought she might have to let him down gently.

‘Have you booked the flight?’ she heard him say. His voice was loud and bright. ‘When are you coming?’

She stayed where she was and listened. His silence was ominous, it seemed to her. A long silence was always bad news.

‘What?’ She heard him swearing under his breath, and the flame of his lighter. ‘I thought you said you were going to book it.’

He picked the phone up and took it into the lounge room. Mandy trod across the lino and stood at the kitchen door.

‘Louisa, listen. If this is about that night, about what happened, I swear to God it won’t happen again. I had more whisky than I should have. I want you to know, I’m cutting down on the drink. I’m going to make some changes.’

Mandy stood perfectly still. She thought of Louisa, the day she’d sat at her kitchen table, swatting at flies and talking about a down payment. And that Friday night she’d come over and cried into a glass of brandy. Maybe it wasn’t only homesickness she was running from. Maybe she’d been holding something back.

‘It won’t happen again, Louisa.’

Mandy backed up through the kitchen.

‘Louisa, don’t say that. Don’t go. Don’t hang up.’

She pulled his back door shut. She heard him shout, something angry and non-verbal. Then the metallic clamour of the telephone hitting the wall. Louisa wasn’t coming back, by the sound of it. She stood on Joe’s deck, looked across his yard, over the bright line of shrubs that separated the two houses, to where her husband stood with his arms folded, sending a dark shadow across the paving stones.