He looked further into my cabinet. The expression on his face flickered between comprehension and anger. His fingers found the bulldog lighter. ‘You have this?’

I nodded. Caleb remained frozen to the spot, eyes downcast. He had exposed me. Betrayal seared me like a flame.

Jack left without another word. We’d see him later, in court.

Maybe this moment didn’t have to mean much. Jack would hate me after my testimony anyway. This was the last time I’d hear the purr of his ute, pulling away from my home, from me.

I thought Caleb might at least apologise, but he stared, eyes flashing. ‘What do you mean, Jack lied?’

I tried taking his hand but he shook me away violently as if his burn scars still stung. ‘I know he’s been a hero to you, Caleb. When he said he saw you in Brunton, it was to protect his mother. Shirley was at the fossicker’s hut. I know you saw her. She’s the white figure in your sketches.’

His own face white, Caleb left for his bedroom. I tried the handle. When it didn’t budge, I rested a hand on the white timber expanse. ‘You should have told me!’

‘So I could ruin Jack’s family?’ Caleb shrieked. ‘Like I’ve ruined ours?’

‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’

A long pause. Audible, deep, heart-breaking sobs. ‘I’ll believe that when I see Sean walking again.’

24

24

FIDES | Goddess of Trust between Allies and in Marriage

Acted as Jupiter’s conscience and had a temple immediately next to his. She wore a white veil, sometimes carried fruit, and was regarded as the overseer of Rome’s moral integrity.

MONDAY

I barely noticed the signs or crowd outside the court. Leanne touched my hand to get my attention and smiled uncertainly at me. She’d finally self-published her terrible History of Brunton, full of typos and ludicrous inaccuracies but not, fortunately, dedicated to me. One day, I’d feel bad about mocking her. She’d supported Caleb when few did. But I had to survive this first.

I would actively create history, proving that Caleb was innocent. I was in control. I knew what to do. I was Henry Fonda in Twelve Angry Men, seeking reasonable doubt. People just needed to agree my suggestion was possible.

In the conference room I insisted that Caleb explain his sketchbook to the court.

Douglas shrugged. ‘It sounds like an excuse. We’ll get to it when the time is right.’

So much for control. ‘Stephen, tell Caleb he has to explain.’

‘It’s not a good idea, Phoebe.’ The Stephen I knew was a successful Queen’s Counsel, a leader in his field. He was rich and successful. Why was he behaving like this?

Once Caleb was free, people could think of me, label me, however they liked. Liar, perjurer, thief, mother. I was all of those things. But Caleb was not an arsonist.