Outside, I quickly stepped aside to avoid Carmel Millard, who had stopped short on the footpath. The woman hardly noticed the near miss; her attention was on Crystal and Norma at the counter.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘What? Oh, I didn’t see you.’ Carmel’s eyes were torn between me and the chemist doorway.

I remembered the younger version of her. Mrs Millard ruled the house in a way my younger self found a little scary. Toys had to be put away. Rooms had to be cleaned, dishes done. Any kid visitors such as me were quickly roped in to help, forming working bees of cleaning in the heightened tension before Mr Millard was due home. After a while, my ears tuned in like the rest of the family to his coming-home noises: the purr of his car in the driveway, the click of the side gate, and then his appearance outside the huge living room window as he strolled past on his way to the front door with long confident strides, and Mrs Millard racing to the door to let him in. His arrival was always my cue to leave.

I continued on up the street and let her watch her granddaughter uninterrupted.

Just before the bakery was the large, modern Deception Bay supermarket. It reminded me we were nearly out of tea at the station. I decided to duck in for a packet before buying Wozza’s pastries. I dodged around shoppers with large trolleys and headed for the aisle that held the tea. As I got closer, I became aware of raised voices. A man and a woman stood just in front of the tea I wanted. She, head down. Trembling. He, finger jabbing in her direction. Voice, a low hissing rumble. I stopped short and took in the situation. Apart from the couple, the aisle was empty. At the far end, I saw an older woman push her trolley into the aisle, take in the angry man and the woman he was berating, then hastily reverse out and disappear.

The man got louder. Angrier.

Her voice was soft. Placatory. Trying to de-escalate.

It wasn’t working.

Down my end, another shopper, a man this time, turned into the aisle, took in the situation, then turned back out again.

And suddenly, my blood boiled. I don’t know where the feeling came from, but there rose inside me a rage from the depths of hell. Everything that had happened in the last few days: Meg; Wheeler accusing me; Jack Barratt and his sneering … and now, in the Deception Bay supermarket, regular folk shying away from another violent man as if his fury protected him, gave him some sort of shield.

Until now.

I headed towards them. Closing the gap with every stride.