'Look, I can't really just stand here and chat,' Ella said. 'Is something wrong?'

'Ah, no, nothing's up. I just need some advice. I haven't got a present for Jonathan yet and don't know what to get.'

'Is that it?' she said, face disbelieving.

I shrugged.

'How old is he turning, eighteen?'

'Right.'

'Well, that's easy. Just buy him something for his car. He'll love driving for the next few years so it's a sure thing. Just go down to '

She stopped as one of the patients climbed up on a seat in the waiting area and began yelling about treatment delays, trying to encourage everyone else in the room to rise up. The cane toad security guard eventually put a stop to the commotion by waving a set of handcuffs in the man's face.

'I don't want to buy him something for his car,' I said. 'That's something his family and friends will do.'

'But you are are his family.' his family.'

'You know what I mean.'

She frowned before offering another suggestion. 'I know! Get him a French shirt and cufflinks. Bet his mates won't buy him that.'

I nodded, liking the idea. There would be plenty of formal occasions where my nephew would need a good shirt and tie.

'That'll work. Where should I go?'

'There's a sale on at BCM down on Chapel Street.'

'A sale? You mean shirts discounted from three hundred dollars to two. I can't afford that.'

Ella poked me in the stomach. 'That's right. You're not in the Drug Squad any more, are you?'

'That joke's getting old.'

'Works every time though. Another option is Guy Wire. I drove past the other day. It's still there.'

Now I smiled at her. Guy Wire was a more reasonably priced men's clothing store down the Windsor end of Chapel Street. When Ella and I lived together, we went there a lot. Even now many of the clothes in my wardrobe had been purchased at Guy Wire with Ella by my side.

'You don't think that's too lowbrow for him?'

'Well, he's not gonna expect Armani or anything, is he?'

'You mean from a low-paid cop?'

Ella didn't answer and I knew I was reading too much into it. 'I'm kidding. It's a good suggestion.'

She looked at her watch. It was time to go.

'I do have one other thing,' I said. 'A favour.'

'Ah, I knew there was an angle.' She pursed her lips. 'What is it?'

'The kid I was telling you about last night, Dallas Boyd.'

'What about him?'

I waited for the security guard to wander past before I continued. 'I've just seen the coroner this morning. Turns out he was abused for many years. Lots of broken bones, some not healed properly.'

'No wonder he turned to drugs.'

'Well, he's got a younger sister who still lives with the abuser,' I said, then looked around. 'You sure we can't go somewhere else to talk?'

'No. I have to get back in there. What's up?'

I lowered my voice. 'I want to help DHS get her out of there. I saw her this morning. It's a cesspit, no place for a child to grow up.'

'So what do you want from me?'

I slid a piece of paper across the counter. 'Her name's Rachel Boyd. I've written it down. I want to know if she's been brought in here for treatment.'

'Rubens, what are you talking about?'

'I don't have a birth date, but she's six years old so it shouldn't be hard to isolate her details from any other patients who might have the same name.'

'Are you crazy? I can't just check up on a patient's medical history.'

'Sure you can. On that computer over there. It'll give you her whole medical history.'

Ella leant across the counter, her voice a sharp whisper. 'No, you're missing the point. What you're asking me to do is illegal illegal. And you can't use it anyway, not without a subpoena.'

'I don't care about court rules. I just need to know.'

'Right, you don't care about court rules. Of course you don't.' She stared at me, hoping I'd budge, but then realised I was serious. 'And we only have our own data anyway. What if she's been to another hospital?'

'That's fine. I just want something I can use to convince her Child Protection officer she needs to be removed, or at least boosted up the priority list. If I can give them any indication something might be going on, they'll watch things more closely and eventually get enough on him to move in.'

'Yeah, I get that, but if something was going on, and we suspected it, we're mandated to report it. We're all trained to look out for it. DHS would have it already because we would've given it to them.'

I shook my head, not willing to accept that.

'You're trained to look for bruises and to report it when a kid says "Mummy bashes me". How many kids do you think dob on their parents? These people are sc.u.m sc.u.m, Ella. They teach their kids to lie. By the time somebody steps in it's too late. We end up finding them dead in a laneway with a syringe stuck in their arm. Come on, El. This is a bad one.'

'So what's your solution the foster system? I mean, she might end up with an elderly couple and the old man likes to touch her up at night. How do you know you won't be making it worse for her?'

'Look, all I know is if she stays in that place she'll end up with chlamydia again, or worse.'

Ella's face contorted with horror. 'You mean, she was ... ?'

'Yeah, that that kind of bad.' kind of bad.'

She let out a breath and looked over my shoulder. After a long moment she looked back at me. 'All right. I'll check it out this afternoon when I put in my time log. But I can't promise any results. Like I said, we only have our own records.'

'That's fine. Thank you. I'll let you go now.'

I was wondering about the appropriate way to say goodbye when I remembered something. 'Hey, do you know the emergency hotline for the fires? I want to check on Mum.'

'Check in reception. There's a poster on the wall.'

I thanked her again and went to touch her arm but she was already hurrying away.

'Let me know how you go with your mum,' she called back over her shoulder.

'Sure, I'll see you at seven.'

I watched her disappear through the doors into the emergency room, knowing I'd broken my earlier commitment not to contact her today. I just hoped she could see my reasoning.

12.

I DIDN'T WASTE ANY TIME buying my nephew's present, pulling together a shirt, tie and cufflinks in less than ten minutes. There was a pair of jeans I would've liked for myself but they'd have to wait until next month. It was no use getting them until the heatwave ended anyhow. buying my nephew's present, pulling together a shirt, tie and cufflinks in less than ten minutes. There was a pair of jeans I would've liked for myself but they'd have to wait until next month. It was no use getting them until the heatwave ended anyhow.

Back home, the apartment was relatively cool. Prince wanted out, so I let him go but I knew it'd only be a few minutes. I reckoned cats must be allergic to discomfort or extreme temperatures. After pouring a gla.s.s of water, I checked the answering machine but there were no messages. Next I sent Ella a text saying my parents were safe. Seeing my father at the party tonight was preying on my mind but I tried not to think about it, deciding instead to do something I hadn't done in a long time.

In the kitchen I laid out four slices of rye bread, spread avocado on each, then added shredded chicken, sundried tomato and spinach leaves. Prince came in while I was arranging the sandwiches on a plate. He leapt up to the bench but I read the move and caught him mid-flight.

'Not yours, mate. At least another five hours for you,' I said, carrying him to the scratch pole in the lounge and patting him for a while. Picking up the sandwiches and some orange juice, I headed over to Edgar's apartment. The door was around the walkway even though his place was directly next to mine. He normally had lawn bowls on Sat.u.r.days but given the heat I figured he'd be home. I knocked and heard the familiar sound of his dog barking.

'Who's there?' Edgar called through the door.

'Police! We have a search warrant. Open up, Burnsey!'

The door cracked open an inch and an eye peered out. 'b.l.o.o.d.y coppers, can't trust you lot. Show me the warrant.'

I held up the plate of sandwiches. 'Will this do?'

Edgar opened the door and his silky terrier rushed out and began sniffing my ankle. 'Get him, Tank. Chew his leg off!'

'You had lunch yet, old fella?'

'Old, my b.l.o.o.d.y a.r.s.e.'

I handed him the plate. 'Chicken and avocado, mate. Got the cricket on in there?'

'You bet. Sri Lanka are four for one-fifty. Taking them to the b.l.o.o.d.y cleaners. Come in and have a seat.'

I followed him through the entranceway into the lounge. The apartment was much the same setup as mine though the furniture was about as old as Ed. And it had that musty smell typical of many elderly people's homes. It reminded me of my dad's house and again I felt guilt and shame gnaw at me for having avoided my parents lately.

'What kind of bread is this?' Edgar asked, studying the sandwiches.

'Rye. I know it's probably not what you normally have but it's very good for you. And it's very similar to '

'I know what white bread is. This is brown. Sometimes you don't make any sense at all, you know that?'

'That's because I like confusing you. Got a gla.s.s?'

'Juice again? When are we gonna have a beer together?'

'You can't drink beer, Ed. Your doctor told you '

'I don't give a s.h.i.t what the b.l.o.o.d.y quack says. I've drunk beer all me life, never done me any harm.'

'I know, but your liver ...'

Edgar took the orange juice with a disgusted look and poured out two gla.s.ses, shuffling around the kitchen bench. As usual, he'd shaved and ironed his slacks and polo shirt. He'd also polished his leather loafers recently. Despite having nowhere to go, he still dressed himself with pride. It was a dignity and self-respect that seemed unique to men who had served in the defence force.

'Come sit,' he said, gesturing to the lounge. 'Look like a s.h.a.g on a rock standing there.'

Setting the plate on the coffee table, I eased into a sofa. The old TV was on but the sound was muted, ABC radio coverage playing instead. Tank sat in front of us, looking at the sandwiches.

'Cheers,' I said, raising my orange juice to Ed's.

Ed nodded approvingly after taking a bite of his sandwich. 'This is b.l.o.o.d.y good, Rubens. Must be the fancy bread. Did that young Ella teach you how to make this?'

'No, I taught her.'

He laughed. 'Well, good to have you over.'

'Good to be here,' I said.

I noticed there was a news update on and I asked if he could turn the sound up. On the screen a reporter scurried across a street as a convoy of fire trucks roared past. Burning embers blew through the air as the reporter scrambled into a waiting SUV, the cameraman obviously labouring to keep up. Once the SUV got going, the camera refocused and the reporter relayed his update.

'Fire authorities are saying Victoria is officially suffering the worst bushfire crisis since the infamous 1983 Ash Wednesday disaster. More than twelve people have died, as many as thirty have been taken to hospital for treatment, and almost fifty homes have been wiped out overnight.'

The screen cut to footage of the fires from a helicopter. The Alpine ranges looked like a row of erupting volcanos, giant plumes of smoke wafting into the air.

'More than half a million hectares of national forest have been destroyed,' the reporter went on. 'Three of the major fires have joined together, and firefighters are still battling the inferno. In a further blow for already exhausted firefighters, local water supplies are down to less than twenty per cent.'

A map of the state appeared, with red fireb.a.l.l.s indicating the affected areas. They began north of Melbourne and headed all the way around down to the south-eastern coastline. It looked as though the fires were surrounding the city and moving in. I remembered Ella's comment about the apocalypse. She hadn't been far off.

'In a positive break for police, a man in his twenties has been arrested and charged with three counts of arson and aggravated vandalism,' said the reporter. 'It's believed the man may be responsible for up to seven separate outbreaks across the Alpine region. He's expected to face an out-of-sessions hearing tomorrow, where more charges may follow.'