Pip and I both leaned forward. Nan had a way of telling stories that made everyone lean forward.

‘They held it at the Catholic church. St Mary’s. Now, old Father Deitch was a bit of a pill, but that doesn’t give the congregation carte blanche to do whatever they choose. I know he rambled on a bit, but when Gordon stood up and cleared his throat—right in the middle of Father Deitch’s sermon—everyone held their breath.’ Nan paused.

‘Don’t leave us hanging, Nan,’ said Pip.

Nan laughed and continued. ‘Father Deitch was trying to be careful, but you know what priests are like—subtle as mallets. He started on the evils of violence, and then suddenly, there was Gordon Millard standing up in his seat and screaming at the top of his lungs, You blame my son? What about them? Then he pointed to Shayna’s family as if they’d pulled the trigger. Then he stormed out of the church. Well, people were horrified. Of course, Shayna’s family were shocked. You could see it in their eyes afterwards. Carmel tried to apologise, but it was all too much. If you ask me, I think Gordon’s outburst gave them a glimpse of the rage that Brett Millard must have been in when he shot Shayna.’

Pip shook her head. ‘Classic transference of blame. Ironically, his outburst reinforced the very thing he was denying.’

Nan nodded. ‘After that, the door was firmly shut to the Millards. They lost their son and their granddaughter.’

‘Whatever happened to Gordon?’ I asked. Carmel was now clearly on her own and seemed much happier for it.

‘You’d never believe it,’ said Nan, shaking her head, ‘but he left Carmel for another woman. Someone he worked with.’

I shuddered. Hard to believe anyone could fall for someone like him, but maybe he didn’t behave like an arsehole all the time. I thought again of Brett. Another memory came back to me. Once, I fell off my bike and he gave me a dink all the way home and helped put a bandaid on my knee. He was full of concern and kindness. Try as I might, I just couldn’t reconcile the boy I remembered from all those years ago with the man who took a shotgun to his sleeping wife and left his small daughter all alone, scavenging for food. He was nothing like his father. Could he really have changed so much in the transition from boy to man?

When it was time to leave, Pip offered to drop Nan back to the nursing home. Nan was quite excited at the thought of driving in Pip’s new car, which had come with the promotion. Once Nan was safely buckled into the front seat, Pip walked around and flipped the boot open. She took out a box and handed it to me.

‘Here’s the Millard homicide file. I didn’t forget.’