‘He wants to defend the house. Says I’m useless. Can Harmony use your computer?’

Harmony’s pout cleared. She looked expectantly for my laptop.

‘No.’ Instead, I ushered Harmony and the other kids into the spare bedroom and set up Caleb’s old DVD player.

Back in the sitting room, Leanne rested Isla, now asleep, beside her, and picked her fingernails till they bled. She sucked her fingertips, dropping a shard of skin on the floor. ‘Today you could help me write my chapter about historic bushfires,’ she said.

Harmony reappeared. ‘I want a drink.’

Leanne barely moved. ‘Harmony. Wait to be asked!’

‘I want a fucking drink,’ said Harmony.

At school such language would earn her a detention. Leanne sighed. ‘I hope she’s better behaved in class.’

‘About the same.’ And it was easy to see why. ‘Harmony, the kitchen’s that way.’

‘You got Coke?’

‘I’ve got juice.’

Harmony rolled her eyes and paced from the room.

‘She’s better this year. Isn’t she?’ Leanne asked.

Long pause. This conversation had to happen some time. ‘Well, she hasn’t had a great term… There’ve been a lot of absences.’

‘I try getting her there.’

When I’d first taken up my job here, Jeannie Tillman had tried to explain the Beckwiths and their mysterious belief that they didn’t have to send their children to school: ‘They don’t really come to school. They never have.’

I’d taken that as a personal challenge. But You have to try harder was something I didn’t say to Leanne now.

‘She’s out of control,’ Leanne said. ‘She got a tattoo. I did not give permission. What artist does that to a child?’

Tattoo? How would that sit with our uniform policy? ‘I’m more concerned about her behaviour,’ I said.

‘She says she’s being bullied.’

Bullies always say they’re being bullied. I selected my next words with care. ‘She offered a cigarette to Violet Gillan. Violet is seven years old.’

‘Lots of kids have a bit of a smoke.’

Another pause. ‘Not at my school, Leanne.’

‘It wasn’t that serious. All she got was a suspension. Harmony loves being suspended. She gets to spend time with me.’

Caleb had enjoyed suspensions too. Not that he’d ever been punished for Harmony-level infractions, at least not in primary school. Caleb’s detentions then had been for forgetting his sports uniform too often, or bringing football cards to maths. The sorts of things any good kid could get in trouble for.

Where was he? It was mid-afternoon, the temperature continuing to rise. Be safe, my boy. I glanced at the CFA website, read predictions about how the weather might behave, which locations would be most dangerous, what Caleb might be doing.

I checked the window again. The air outside was hot and still and eerily quiet. Should I leave Brunton after all? Should I change my strategy, now I had Leanne with me? I glanced at the cedar chest. A lot of years had gone into the secret collection I kept there. With Leanne here, if we did have to evacuate, would I have a chance to take it with me?