Of course his phone had been traced. Caleb should have guessed this was possible, that it would be used against him. Charles told the court about Caleb’s return to Brunton, about the police interview where he’d admitted to being at his house. He’d been looking after his neighbour, he’d told the police. He’d never come closer to telling the truth.

They had a break. ‘How are you going?’ people asked Caleb. A lot of people. The worst part of the day was coming his way, was waiting back in the courtroom like this break had been arranged for it to sharpen its teeth. No matter how Caleb was going, none of this part would change.

Everyone poured back in. They had no choice. And then the words came. ‘The accused faces many charges. The first fourteen relate to the deaths of Mr Wharton’s neighbours. Twenty-seven other people were injured that day but Mr Valentin Zynda was the first to die. He had believed he could defend his home, where he became trapped.’

Ghosts. That was what Mum called those people. Caleb had been struck by how accurate her word was. In his mind, now ghosts strolled. Memories. Mum, at the service station before dropping him off. Valentin staring intently at the road. Caleb had known him for years. John’s dad. A few rows from Mum, a woman sobbed. Caleb clenched his fists and closed his eyes.

‘Charge 2 relates to the death of elderly Elizabeth Morgan,’ Charles continued, relentless. ‘Elizabeth successfully defended her Wombat Creek Road home from a previous bushfire. This time, she asphyxiated in her bathroom. Her husband searched for her all night but did not discover her body until the next day.’

Elizabeth. The old man had called her name, on the night of the fire. Elizabeth. She’d already been a ghost. The old man cared for his wife like Caleb cared for Penelope. A cold shiver settled over him.

Charles continued with his roll call of the dead before moving on to other charges. Shelly and Violet Gillan, believing they were safe at home while Michael Gillan was at work. The entire McCarthy family. Bill and Helen Gordon, Penelope’s parents. And the names continued. The Miller family trapped in their car.

The wind changed direction again in the courtroom, or the ghost of it did. The gaze of the audience was cool on Caleb’s face. In this room, he was a murderer.

Mum’s face was pale, sad. Caleb regretted looking at her. She was haunted, too. He clenched fists against his knees, dug fingernails into his palms. This was unbearable.

‘You’ll hear Brunton locals, forensic experts and police officers proving that Caleb Wharton is guilty of arson in starting the bushfire which killed these people.

‘If Your Honour pleases.’