She walked back inside. He rode closer, pulling up behind a tall eucalypt. Now he’d stopped flying, the air was eerily silent. Other birds had fled. If he spoke to her, he’d have to tell her what he suspected about her parents. Could she bear it? Could he?

Penelope crossed behind the shop window. Caleb flung his bike aside and banged on the door. No answer. He peered through the glass. The store held its usual clutter of pastel dresses and long strands of beads with clusters of skulls and roses. Girls like Penelope owned a lot of dresses and beads.

‘Penelope! It’s me! Caleb! Let me in!’

There was no response. Could she be in the purple-curtained fitting rooms at the rear? Then, yellow hair came into view, followed by Penelope’s roundish face. Her mascara and heavy eyeliner had run, leaving grey streaks through her near-white face powder. She’d been crying. Could she already know about her home?

‘Let me in!’ Caleb yelled again.

Penelope opened the door, just wide enough for him to enter. She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Her shampoo smelled like strawberries.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Not really.’

He thought again of her parents but blocked the image from his mind. Like Penelope, they might have got away. ‘Do you have water?’ Knowing the answer, he peered outside. Many stores were shut, but a couple of cars were still parked near Doonan’s Hardware. Darren Doonan kept a drink machine near the registers.

‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

Caleb strode down the stifling street to the hardware store. Darren must have had his own generator. The air here was stale, cool, conditioned. Despite his offensive tattoos, Darren sneered at Caleb like every grey-haired man Caleb knew. Caleb scowled back. Shit! His new snakebite piercings screamed, deep within his lips.

He inserted coins into the drinks machine. He was back on the road outside when he felt the whoosh! of the expected southerly. The wind change that normally brought relief at the end of a summer heatwave this time brought with it a stronger whiff of smoke.

A few minutes later, Penelope welcomed him back into Creepy Chic. He passed her a bottle of cold water. He wouldn’t tell her about her parents, he decided. Not yet. He didn’t know for sure, and Penelope herself still needed to survive. She had to keep calm.

‘Why are you here?’ he asked.

She pulled the plastic bottle top off with inky purple fingernails. ‘Mum and Dad are… mad.’

He didn’t know what to say. ‘What’ll you do if a fire comes?’

‘It’s the middle of town.’ Penelope touched his uniform sleeve. ‘You can save me.’

He smiled and – painfully – stopped. This morning, when he’d dreamed of meeting her, hoping she’d appreciate the new piercings, seemed long ago.