‘Tree-changers.’ I had smiled at the description. ‘I suppose that describes us.’

‘Speak for yourself.’ Jack finally cracked a smile. ‘I’ve done my three winters.’

‘Three winters?’

‘That’s how long newcomers last before the cold sends them back into Melbourne.’

‘I’ve done my three, too. It’s hard to believe in cold tonight. The wind is a furnace. The bellows of hell.’

‘That’s very poetic.’

There was a warmth between us, coming partly from my gratitude for all he’d done for Caleb, and partly from the warmth in his skin, the sparkle of his blue eyes. I thanked him, for his help with my child.

‘Did you ever want to be a dad?’

He shrugged. ‘Once. I got married. It didn’t work. My wife got jealous of Iraq.’

‘And you never had kids?’

‘You can’t get pregnant when you’re in different countries.’ He paused for a long time then stared at his fingers, as if he held something but didn’t quite know what. ‘Or when you can’t rest because you brought the war home with you.’

‘You have nightmares.’ I’d noticed him tossing and turning.

‘When I sleep,’ Jack agreed. ‘Caleb—’ I paused. This was difficult to talk about.

‘Caleb seems to relive that accident. Often. Like he can’t escape. Maybe you can talk to him?’

Jack nodded. ‘I will. He’s a good kid, Phoebe. Some things take forever to get over.’

4

LATONA | Goddess of Modest Motherhood

Mother of Apollo and Diana. Their father was Juno’s husband, Jupiter. Latona was often portrayed behind a veil and was rarely visible once her children were born.

I took Harmony’s shaking hand in mine. The firestorm finally moved away. With the Beckwiths, I trudged through ashes towards the wreck of Jack’s smouldering house. Along the way the light changed. I heard tyres on gravel. I stopped to check. Jack leaped from his ute and quickly checked the others were unharmed before enveloping me in a gritty, powerful hug.

‘I was sure the house was safe,’ he said. ‘I’ll never forgive myself if…’

I held his gloved hand in my dirty one. ‘It’s all right. Do you know where Caleb is?’

‘I saw him earlier.’

‘Where was he? Was he safe?’

He paused for a moment and blinked. ‘I think he’s with Penelope Gordon. He knows where safe places are. Look, there’s an emergency shelter in St Monica’s church hall. Caleb could be there already. I’ll take you.’

He opened the door of his ute and, in our muddy, wet, hot clothes, we piled in. Even Harmony, her shopping bag now drenched, was quiet. I clutched my dryer bag to my chest. It contained Caleb’s laptop, a few old photos, the scarf-wrapped antiquities.

Were these all I owned in the world?

As though he could read my mind, Jack said, ‘I passed your place, Phoebe. It’s still there.’ He tried his radio, but all we heard was an echoing crackle, like the recording of flames. His dashboard clock said the time was 8 pm. We must have been in the water for two hours. We crawled through a Yarra Valley that could have existed a hundred years ago, or more, in Gold Rush days. Power had failed. Farmhouses and towns were illuminated only by bushfire.