He stood next to her. His face was bloated from crying and two purple veins had risen jaggedly at his temples. She reached out for his hand and he gripped it tightly.

‘Feeling any better?’

He nodded. ‘Bit.’

Isla ran out her back door, turned several off-kilter cartwheels on the grass and applauded herself loudly, scaring the cockatoos in the trees. Steve’s frown unfolded as he watched her. He was soft over kids. Isla wasn’t his biggest fan, mind. She’d seen and heard too much of all this. The tears and the outbursts. Mandy was used to it but she could see how a child might be put off.

‘Look at my cartwheels, Daddy!’ Isla called out to Joe, who had walked out onto his deck. ‘Look at me!’

Joe clapped his hands and cheered as Isla cartwheeled past. He caught Mandy’s eye and nodded, raising a hand in greeting. God Almighty, she was looking straight at him. She waved back, and shunted her chair to the right.

‘You’re home now, love,’ Mandy said. ‘Try to relax. There’s a few beers in the fridge.’

He shook his head. ‘Thing is, Mandy—’

Joe sat down and undid his tie with both hands, tugged it free of his collar and threw it down on the deck. Something was different about him. He’d changed his hair, she thought. Cut it much shorter. And he was wearing a suit, of course. That must be it. He looked twice the man, somehow, in the crisp white shirt and the suit pants. She felt blood rush to her face.

‘I can’t take much more of all this,’ Steve was saying. ‘I’m not up to it, darl. It’s a dirty job.’

Mandy moved her chair another few inches to the right, clipping Steve’s boot. ‘You always feel this way afterwards. Give it a day or two and you’ll be right.’

‘I don’t think so. Not this time.’

She caught the edge to his voice. It exhausted her, the way he needed her. She felt drained and guilty, both at once. She held her hands out and he lifted her to her feet. ‘How bad was it?’

‘It was bad. Like always.’ He spoke into her ear. ‘I don’t like who I am sometimes.’

‘Stop that.’ She eased her hands free. ‘Don’t start all that now.’

‘She cried herself hysterical,’ he said. ‘Begged us to take her back home. That can’t be right, can it?’

Mandy smiled at him, kissed his cheek. He smelled of sweat, and the hot interior of his truck. ‘Come on,’ she said, letting the smile slip as she looked over his shoulder at Isla roaming around the back of her yard; the mob of cockatoos shifting about in the trees. Sweet Jesus, she thought, don’t let him start up again, not here. ‘Why don’t you take a shower, Steve? Get yourself freshened up. That always helps.’

He looked down at himself. His police blues were creased and stained. ‘You’re right. Been wearing this getup for days.’