‘Your eyes are puffy, Phoebe,’ Genevieve said. ‘You need more sleep. You can’t remember things properly without rested neuro-receptors. This is how you ruined your Grade 12. You’d have got into law school if you slept properly.’

‘I didn’t want to go to law school.’

‘You’d have a much better understanding of all this.’

I couldn’t debate that. Then Genevieve said something I didn’t expect. ‘You stuck to your beliefs. I suppose that’s something I’m proud of.’

CALEB

Before court the third day, Mum stared at Caleb through bruised eyes. Her insomnia must be getting worse. Yesterday, she’d hidden behind large sunglasses. They were misinterpreted. In the news he checked on his mobile, Sadie Riley wrote that Mum arrived at court looking glamorous and obviously aware of the cameras. Sadie was evil. Caleb didn’t understand her, or Mum, or anyone, really. Real people rarely made sense like characters in books. Caleb thought again of Kafka’s Gregor. But once people stopped understanding Gregor’s speech, language still made sense to Gregor. He had become used to his own thought processes. He was the only being who really understood what it was to be an insect. Other than Caleb.

The committal resumed. Caleb clutched the rail, its timber firm beneath the varnish. This morning it was Rosie’s turn to seek vengeance. Caleb needed to hear her, more than anyone. It was punishment he had to face. Approaching Rosie, Charles Scott looked sleazy, like she was at another kind of bar. She stated her name and address. ‘And you have a son?’

‘Sean. He’s ten years old. He’s disabled after—’

Douglas leaped like robed lightning from his seat. ‘Objection!’

The magistrate sighed. ‘Sustained. Move on to the next question, please.’

Audience members muttered. They knew about the car accident. Any future jurors would be the same, thanks to Sadie’s articles.

‘You saw Caleb Wharton on many occasions in his backyard which, like yours, runs down to Damper Creek, a site the court will visit. Is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you describe what you saw on the afternoon of the Brunton fire?’

‘Well, ’cause of Sean’s disability I leave early on extreme bushfire days, but my car wouldn’t start. I rang my brother. He said he’d get me. I waited and watched from my window.’

Caleb rested his palm on his chin, closing his eyes although Douglas had warned him not to. He deserved Rosie’s anger but hearing it was still torturous.

‘I seen Caleb Wharton at the fossicker’s hut. Then smoke. I had binoculars. It was 4.30. I was watching my clock, waiting for my brother. I called him again. But my landline was dead.’

‘You used your mobile phone? Records show you made a call at 4.40 pm.’

‘That’d be right. My brother said there were roadblocks. He said he’d be quick as he could. He said to call Triple 0.’