‘I love you,’ he said, with his head full of Mandy. ‘I love you so much.’

‘Do you mean that?’

Her voice offended him. He held the receiver away from his ear. ‘Come home, Louisa. I’ll make you happy if you’ll come back. I’ll stop drinking. I’ll never drink again.’

‘Will you forgive me?’ she said.

‘Of course I’ll forgive you.’

He put the receiver down on the carpet when she started to cry. He waited, drank some coffee. He’d divorce her once she was back in the country with his daughter. He’d get a solicitor and throw the bloody book at her.

‘We’ll come back,’ Louisa said, eventually.

‘Do you mean it this time?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I love you, Joe.’

There was a moment of interference and then he heard her say goodbye. He cut the line off with his finger, muting the bell.

The second call would be easier. He picked up the scrap of paper and dialled the number he’d written down, next to the words he needed to remember: Marlo. Beach cabin.

‘I want to report a crime,’ he said.

43

Victoria, 1967

Steve woke early with the cold. William stirred beside him and he pulled the blanket up to cover the boy’s chest and shoulders. He spread his jacket over the top – the good one he got for Christmas with the quilted lining. William gave a throaty murmur, sighed and slept on. Each morning it was a little cooler. The wind came in off the ocean, shaking the window in its frame and rattling the door. They wouldn’t be able to stop here much longer.

He lay beside William and watched the light brighten through the gaps in the timber. This time of day was hardest. His head wandered off to dark places. He found himself remembering specific children, their names and their voices; the things they’d said when they figured out they weren’t going on holiday, after all. Sometimes they all came to him at once in symphony, but mostly it was one at a time, with a clarity that made him want to rip his skin off. Today it was the boy with the pale green eyes – Dale, his name was – who’d kicked and yelled for the first few hours and tried to jump from the truck when he’d told him the truth as they’d turned off for Kempsey. Steve lay on the bed feeling Dale’s bare foot against his spine, kicking the back of his seat as he drove. The sound of him shouting and howling. Trying the doors.

William wasn’t going to make up for it all, he knew that, but it was a start. He sat up straight in the bed, his back rigid at the thought of it. He was going to do right by this child. He would give him everything.

The boy shifted again and turned his head, his mouth pressed sideways against the mattress in a loose pout. There was a flush in his cheek, Steve thought. He held his hand to his forehead and felt heat there, not too bad but he lifted the covers off him just the same. The jacket had been too much, that was it. He put his milk in a pan and set a low flame beneath it.