The fire was becoming real, solidifying in our minds as part of history. Like anyone else, I wanted life to make sense – our own experience to be a story. But our ideas of what had happened didn’t stay the same from day to day. There were so many possible causes it was frightening. Power companies, lightning strikes, another arsonist (a real one this time) an act of God. It was hard to say what the truth was. Only that my truth was different from anyone else’s. Meanwhile things seemed to look increasingly simple for everyone else. On television, in newspapers and online, the narrative became one about a firebug who had to be caught.

For a while, Caleb and I continued as normal, or as normal as we’d been in a year. I called him out of his room for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner. He ate cornflakes and sandwiches and various hot meals without any appearance of caring, then returned to his room. But I couldn’t silence people. Whispers and rumours spread in an abundant and vile proliferation. I feared I’d lose track, and started keeping notes. News reports got closer and closer to naming him. At least Caleb had not yet been charged – that ordeal was like a blustery change that might not come. No one could be as vigilant as me in making sure he had not been named. Eventually it would come out – in our community, everyone already knew. At her BuyCheap counter, Ingrid asked, ‘Wasn’t Caleb sent home from Scout Jamboree for stealing matches?’ She knew.

The next couple of days, while the Prime Minister announced that defence force personnel would help with fire fighting and denounced climate change activists, Caleb was nearly identified on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and talkback radio. I accessed them on my phone. Every time my phone signal fluttered briefly into life I found something new. I copied major details from the posts onto pages in my battered notebook. I’d print them when the power came back on. In one newspaper article, a ring of quotes was arranged around the image of a burning house. Two of its beams had collapsed into the shape of a burning cross. CFA chief executive, Brendan Hurd, his hair looking like corrugated iron, was quoted: Volunteers undergo probation periods and criminal police checks.

A man in a suit, apparently found at random on the Melbourne streets, said, All CFA volunteers should face psychological profiling.

Taskforce Phosphorus Superintendent Lawrence Thornton said: Speculation about CFA members damages the reputations of volunteers. I invite people to speak to the police if they know anything. We’ll take statements from everyone. Even if you’ve spoken to others, we’d like to have your comments on file at Phosphorus.