Wozza spluttered, taking a moment to change gear. I stared at Wheeler’s back as my partner explained in detail everything we knew. A feeling of pure hatred rose in me; hatred mixed with impotence. How dare he tell me what I could and couldn’t do in my spare time! How dare he suggest that women learning to protect themselves against abusive men might be a danger to the abusive men! And how dare he mention Melbourne!

When Wozza came to the end of his narrative about the case, Wheeler thanked him for all the hard work and long hours he was putting in, then turned, looked at me and shook his head. ‘What makes you think you can teach self-defence?’ He said it in the same tone as if I had offered to teach them prostitution.

I looked him right in the eye. ‘I am a second dan black belt in judo,’ I said.

He looked me up and down with something like contempt. ‘It’s not a competition, Pollard,’ he said.

‘Unless you’re a third dan, sir, it really isn’t.’

He gave me a look of utter loathing, then turned and banged the door shut behind him.

Wozza let out a long breath. ‘That guy fell out of the arsehole tree and hit every branch coming down.’

I burst out laughing, a laugh that released the pent-up anger and turned it into something less toxic. I plucked a tissue from a box on my desk and wiped tears from my eyes. ‘I just … I don’t know where to start …’

Wozza shook his head slowly from side to side in sympathy.

‘God. Being on the receiving end of that feels like being assaulted. Punched in the gut with your hands tied behind your back.’

‘Are you still going to do the self-defence classes?’ Wozza’s voice was tentative.

‘Too bloody right I am.’ I stood and grabbed my jacket.

‘So …’ He hesitated. ‘What happened in Melbourne?’

Without looking at him, I said, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

It only took a couple of minutes to get to the hospital, a couple of minutes talking about anything but Melbourne. Wozza had a hangdog look.

‘Sorry I didn’t jump in back at the station. I should have.’

I waved his apology away. ‘I can fight my own battles,’ I said.

‘Yeah, but I should’ve …’

I turned to him. Caught his eye. ‘We’re good,’ I said, knowing that if he had said anything, Wheeler might have turned on him too—although I suspected what I copped was reserved for female staff members.

‘One of his mates applied for your position,’ said Wozza. ‘But he was knocked back. I reckon Wheels is taking it out on you. Put his nose out of joint when the brass on the interview panel overruled him.’