A news banner floated along the bottom of the screen.

Victorian fires – total death toll passes fifty. Hundreds left homeless in worst fires since Black Saturday 2009. Prime Minister finally announces his early return from holiday.

Following was a list of Yarra Valley towns and the number of people who’d died there, including:

Brunton: fourteen deaths, twenty-seven other casualties.

The on-screen image changed to an exterior hospital shot. ‘This is where the alleged Brunton arsonist is reportedly being treated for his injuries,’ the reporter said.

‘This is really happening,’ said Caleb.

I clicked the TV off and glanced out the window. A crowd of reporters waited for us out there. But we were on a high floor, behind a high sill. All I could see was sky.

A cough startled me. ‘Phoebe.’

The cough and voice came from the doorway. Jack could have stepped from my thoughts. Out of uniform, he had shrunk to his usual dimensions. ‘How’s Caleb going?’

‘He’s… we’ve seen the news…’

‘I want to help.’

I waved Caleb’s phone at him. ‘What did you want to talk to Caleb about?’

Caleb opened his eyes. ‘Jack,’ he said. ‘You didn’t say…’ The words faded and he closed his eyes again.

‘You didn’t say what?’ I demanded. Something was going on here.

Jack sighed. He pulled a chair closer to the bed. ‘No doubt you’ll hear it from Caleb anyway, Phoebe. But no one else needs to know. I’ve told the investigators I saw Caleb near Brunton yesterday at 4.20.’

‘Okay. That’s good. But why confess this like a secret?’

‘It’s not a secret. Caleb just wasn’t sure about the time.’

‘But this is great! If he was in Brunton then they’ll have to know he couldn’t have done it.’

‘I don’t know, Phoebe. The timing isn’t certain yet. It’s early days.’

‘Too early to have a suspect.’

Jack watched Caleb more closely, as if to be certain he was sleeping. Caleb’s eyes were closed, flickering with dreams and sleep.

Jack held my hand. He was on our side. We shared knowledge, certainty, that Caleb was innocent. How could we prove it? ‘Do you know what’ll happen next?’ I asked.

‘There’ll be an inquest. There’s a lot I can’t talk about.’ He leaned against the white wall. ‘You must want to get some of Caleb’s things. Some of your things.’

I touched my hair in case he meant shampoo.

‘The roads are still blocked to normal traffic,’ he continued. ‘I have to make some deliveries this afternoon. Let me drive you home.’

That was something. Caleb was being investigated. Who knew what I might find in his room, if I could get there before the investigators did?

Could I leave him? Caleb continued resting peacefully. Genevieve had made it clear to the nursing staff that he was not to be interviewed without a lawyer. He’d be fine on his own, for a while.

‘All right.’

Jack pulled a dark-coloured hoodie from the bag he carried. ‘You’ll want this.’