‘Did you like my mother?’ I asked Leonie, abruptly.

‘Yes,’ Leonie answered simply.

‘So you were good friends then?’

‘Sort of.’

‘So, did she, I dunno, did she do things that made her feel happy?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘I mean, I guess I just mean, was she driven by something, did she seem like she had something that made her happy?’

Leonie looked up at me quickly. ‘Why, isn’t she happy now?’

‘Sometimes. I guess. Actually no. She doesn’t seem happy a lot of the time.’

Leonie nodded, but she seemed sad. ‘I really hoped she would be happy. She was happy, when we were young. She wasn’t that driven – well, I guess she was a little bit driven, but yeah, she was pretty happy. Those two things don’t always have to go together, you know.’

‘So people tell me.’

‘I’m not driven, and I’m happy,’ said Basil.

‘Yeah, but you could do with being a bit more driven,’ said Leonie.

‘Yeah, but Anna’s driven, and she’s not happy – look,’ said Basil, and he leaned over and used his long fingers to turn down the sides of my mouth. I slapped him away.

‘Thanks very much. I’m alright. Actually I’m pretty happy, I think. I have my hopes and dreams.’

‘So does anyone care if I’m happy?’ said Leonie.

‘Shit, sorry,’ I said. ‘Are you happy, Leonie?’

‘Very happy, thank you very much. I love my job. That helps.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, putting crispy thin fries in my mouth, ‘that’s what I’m talking about. I think it’s the only thing you can really count on.’

‘I don’t know about that –’

‘And what about your lovely son, Mum? Jeez, you’d reckon I was nothing.’

‘My job and my lovely son. A good life.’

‘So what don’t I know that I don’t mind?’ I asked.

‘Ha!’ Leonie said. ‘I didn’t think I was going to get away with that.’

‘It’s about Mum, isn’t it? About why she left?’

‘Yeah, people will ask questions.’

‘But I don’t know why she left.’

‘Yeah, I know you don’t.’

‘Do you know?’

Leonie looked at me across the table. She seemed vulnerable then, like indecision had cracked something open. I repeated my question.

‘Do you know, Leonie?’

Basil was transfixed. ‘Yeah, Mum, do you know?’

‘Sometimes people leave,’ was all Leonie said.

‘But they need her now though,’ I said. ‘You’ve seen that place. You’ve seen Bette. I don’t know how she can neglect them like that. She needs to come back.’

‘Sometimes people can’t come back.’

And with that Leonie got up and went to the bar to pay.

In the car on the way home Leonie told me that the beautiful trees were Eucalyptus tricarpa, ironbarks in the common settler language. That’s what Leonie called English – settler language. The trees were called ‘Yirrip’ in Dja Dja Wurrung. That was the first name humans had ever given them.

‘Was there forest like this everywhere? Did . . . you know, did my ancestors pull it all down?’