No sign of him there. I walked through the house past the various Beckwiths and into my front yard. My neighbour across the road, Mary Ross, president of the school council that selected me as principal of Brunton Primary and who would later testify against Caleb in court, gave me a cursory but still friendly wave, and went about her own business.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Leanne, from the doorway.

I ignored her. Back inside I checked my phone, in case I’d missed a call or text. The screen registered nothing. I rang my message bank to be informed by a cheerful robot that I had no messages. I tried Caleb’s number, but got diverted straight to his message bank. I thought of more reasons why he might not answer his phone. A flat battery. He could be too busy to answer. Too close to noisy equipment to hear. Other times, he hadn’t answered. Once, he was celebrating a football win. Another time, I was pretty sure he was out with Penelope. He’d have an ordinary, simple explanation now. Except it wasn’t the day for ordinary and simple. He’d heard the warnings, knew I’d worry. I tried again. And thought again about his battery. Would I drain it, making the phone ring so often? Could Caleb be in danger later on, because of me?

I dialled Stephen. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps Caleb had contacted his father. A woman answered. ‘Hello?’ The cool young voice belonged to Stephen’s new partner, Ivy.

I didn’t care. ‘It’s Phoebe. I need to talk to Stephen about Caleb.’

Ivy sighed, loudly. ‘Stephen is indisposed. Can I take a message?’

‘Get Stephen, Ivy.’

A clicking noise followed, the phone being put down. Restless, I crossed to the window. An old navy sedan pulled into view. For a moment, I was filled with relief. Wherever Caleb had been, someone was bringing him back.

‘Hello, Phoebe? Is something wrong?’ Stephen asked.

I sucked in my breath, calming myself down. Outside, the car had stopped. Car doors swung open and Tony and Kylie Hart climbed out. They were a middle-aged couple who lived in a house two doors down.

Not Caleb.

‘Just wondering if Caleb’s with you?’ My voice carefully calm, I avoided letting Stephen guess my emotions – he’d done enough with them already. I concentrated on loosening fingers of anxiety around my heart. Caleb would be somewhere safe.

But Stephen jumped to conclusions. ‘Isn’t he at home?’

‘Not right now.’

‘God.’ Stephen’s voice deepened. ‘Did you try his phone?’

‘He didn’t answer.’

‘Have you tried his friends?’

I sucked in my breath. How would Stephen answer this question?

‘He doesn’t…’ I began.

He doesn’t have any friends. Not anymore. He’d had plenty of them, once. If any remained, I didn’t know who they were. I had a vague, useless excuse – I respected his privacy. ‘I thought he might be in Hawthorn. It’s a big house. Can you check…?’

‘He isn’t here.’

‘Are you sure? Let me know if…’ The phone fell into my lap. The blue sedan pulled away. I returned to the electric kettle and brewed another pot of tea. I did not need to worry about this yet. There was no point in trying Caleb’s number again. Once he picked his phone up, he’d see I’d called. He’d call me back. Calling or checking again wasn’t rational. Caleb might be missing, but the world moved on. There was this day to survive, and I had business I couldn’t ignore. Like moving my collection far from Harmony’s curious eyes. Anyone’s eyes.