‘I wasn’t sure he’d want you. He’s been angry.’

Raised eyebrows. ‘Angry?’

I sighed. She’d never understand. ‘About Sean Henderson.’

Genevieve blinked slowly. ‘Angry? I helped him. He has to get over that.’

Everything was so simple in her black-and-white world. ‘Last time was an accident,’ I insisted. ‘This time, he hasn’t done anything wrong at all. Can’t a court order the police to widen their investigation?’

‘That’s not how courts work. I see police at work, Phoebe. Don’t be naïve about it. They think they know what happened. That will be their focus now.’

‘Caleb hasn’t done anything wrong.’

Genevieve shrugged. ‘What matters is what can be proven.’

‘More than the truth?’

‘In court, what can be proven is the truth.’

I stood, resisting the desire to argue. All that mattered now was Caleb. At the counter, I ordered a cappuccino. I returned and Genevieve gave me fifty dollars, like I needed pocket money. ‘There’ll be dry shampoo in the chemist.’

The espresso machine whooshed.

‘I know.’

Genevieve cocked her thumb at the exit. ‘I’m serious. You need to do something about your appearance. There are news cameras outside.’

I focussed my eyes on Genevieve’s smooth face, her Botoxed forehead and carefully filled lips. ‘It’s not me they’re waiting for.’

‘You’ll do, if Caleb isn’t available. They want something to feed on.’ She paused and left part of her make-up mask on the cups, her nature spreading, ‘I don’t understand it. He used to say he’d be a lawyer. Like Stephen.’

‘After Stephen left for Ivy, Caleb changed role models.’

Genevieve touched her hair. ‘Role models?’

‘He hates Stephen.’

‘And your boyfriend… the fireman? His influence on Caleb has really been… super, hasn’t it? Oh, Phoebe. All that time you’ve spent teaching instead of making your mark on the world, I thought at least you’d get mothering right.’

I blinked and took a deep breath. I am an adult, I am a school principal. I am not a small child in trouble for a misdemeanour.

‘Phoebe?’

‘Caleb is about to be arrested. This time, he has actually asked for your help. Can we talk about that?’

Genevieve waved her enormous pearl at me. ‘All right. Yes.’

The waitress delivered my coffee. Genevieve drained her own cup. ‘First I’ll grab another short black. Don’t mention blood pressure. This is only my fourth.’

‘How would reporters know me?’

Genevieve pushed her newspaper across the table. ‘Read this.’

An article on the front page identified the suspected arsonist as a young CFA volunteer and featured a photograph of Caleb and me at last year’s Brunton Primary School fete. Our faces were obscured with black squares, insufficiently. I was actually quoted. He’s a good boy, a good son. He might look strange but he would never hurt anyone.

‘Fuck.’

‘You spoke to this reporter?’ Genevieve demanded.

I closed my eyes. ‘Last year. Not about the fire.’

Genevieve twisted the winder of her watch. It meant she was thinking. Her coffee arrived. I brushed my hair back from my face and stirred sugar into my own.