Caleb swallowed and tried to conceal both the swallowing and his anxiety. Everything was an unbelievable mess; all meanings were confused. On a screen behind Charles Scott, an assistant projected a series of photographs. Charles began to speak. ‘This is Victoria’s Yarra Valley, photographed before the Brunton bushfire.’

The screen showed all the Brunton landmarks Caleb would give anything to bring back. The BuyCheap Grocer where Ingrid the checkout bitch was mean (except when she was asking for too much personal information about Dad), the white tower of the hotel where Mum used to play, and Creepy Chic, where Penelope once worked. Home, as it existed no longer, as if it could be recreated from images. These days, Brunton was a town of gossiping neighbours, of roadkill, bloated, dead, a reminder that Caleb, like everybody else, was merely animated meat. Through the middle of town, Main Road shepherded traffic to the roundabout, across to the Brunton–Caledonia Road, and eventually here, to the court.

Nina Haynes glanced from the display to Caleb, her eyes cold like she knew what lurked inside him. Mum stared at her now. See the truth, Mum’s eyes said.

Charles continued with his images, summer evening changing to midnight with smoke, orange streaks of fire darting among the trees, between houses and stores. His voice was soporific, an old-fashioned newsreel voiceover. Police Sergeant Michael Gillan, Charles said, had been working hard on the investigation, but was called home to find his own wife and daughter, dead. Caleb’s behaviour changed after his parents separated. Other words and images pierced Caleb’s feeling of unreality. Tragedies. Points of origin. 1200 degrees. Petrol evaporating in pumps.

‘A lot of CCTV footage exists. You’ll see evidence of Caleb Wharton’s strange behaviour before the fire was ignited. There’s a snippet I’d like to show you now. Caleb, riding down the street.’

Ghosts wafted onto a lost landscape – shades of Caleb’s dead neighbours passing buildings that no longer existed. That was Penelope! And Caleb was awake again. ‘The prosecution will allege that, despite his CFA commitment, Mr Wharton spent much of the afternoon away from his crew. Some time was with his then-girlfriend, Penelope Gordon.’

Penelope. Caleb stared at the screen, remembering her loyalty despite what everyone else said, and despite the fact that people used the fact that she had been orphaned as an excuse to doubt her state of mind and her testimony. Her loyalty had survived but their romance had not. The emotions they had both felt – grief, guilt, confusion – had simply been too strong. Although they kept in contact, these days it was less and less. Caleb missed her.

Charles’s voice droned on. Now the words were about neighbours, times, prosecution allegations, the fossicker’s hut now identified as the ignition site, how Caleb’s phone had been traced…

His phone had been traced?