Joel scratched his dog’s ears as he stared at the scribbled graffiti, still stark and legible despite all their work. “Anyway. We all knew Dwyer wasn’t going to be around to shut things down that year, so there was already this feeling that things could get a bit crazy out here. And Zara said she might not stay too long, because her dad was giving her grief about needing to spend some time with her mum.” Joel paused. “I thought there was maybe a chance she’d end up coming back before my shift was over. So—” He stopped again, for longer this time, then shrugged. “So, I was kind of half looking out for her. At the exit. In case she did come back early or something, you know?”
Yes.Falk looked over in the dim light. Yes, he did know what Joel was trying to tell him but didn’t want to spell out loud. There was no need to, anyway, because Falk could picture it now, with vivid, hormonal clarity. To be that age, watching a girl he liked leave with her friends, trailing the faint tantalizing promise of return. Falk knew that feeling well and he also knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he himself would have had one eye glued to that exit for the entire night, too.
“Okay,” he said, and gave a small nod. Even in the growing dark, he could see a flush creep up Joel’s face and neck as the boy picked his cloth up again and busied himself scrubbing the last few marks. Falk gave his own barrier a final wipe, and they both stood back to inspect their handiwork. The painted wood shone white in the early moonlight.
“What do you reckon?” Falk said.
“Yeah. Good. Heaps better.” Joel seemed as close to happy as Falk had seen him, and reached out to take his dirty cloth. “Thanks for—”
He stopped as they both heard the movement along the track at the same time. Falk listened. Footsteps against the packed dirt, coming from the direction of the festival. They turned together, but it was Joel who recognized her first.
“Oh. It’s just my stepmum.” He raised his hand. “Gemma?”
“Joel? Oh, good. You’re here.”
Falk remembered her voice even as the figure was still taking shape and then, all at once, he could see her for himself. He straightened, suddenly a little self-conscious in his sweat-damp running gear, and watched Gemma Tozer come along the track. She was wearing jeans again, and her shirt was creased at the elbows. Her hair was up, Falk noticed, like the first time he’d seen her, sixteen months ago in the packed Southbank bar.
Gemma’s relief at seeing Joel morphed into baffled surprise as she drew closer, absorbing more of the scene in front of her with each step. She blinked, her eyes moving from her stepson to the barrier to the memorial to the cleaning cloths in their hands and then, finally, coming to rest on Falk.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello, again.”
He smiled at her, automatic and impulsive. He couldn’t help it.
And there in the dark, with the evening sky huge overhead and the water still and calm below, she smiled back. He breathed out. They stood looking at each other for a drawn-out beat, then Gemma glanced past him to Joel, who was busy zipping his cleaning stuff into his backpack.
“This looks really nice,” she said, running her hand over the shining wooden barrier, pausing only briefly at the scrawled graffiti. “Great job.”
Joel shrugged and waved his free hand toward Falk. “Aaron helped. He’s Zara’s uncle’s friend—” He stopped as Gemma nodded.
“Yeah. We’ve met once, actually.”
“Oh, right.” Joel shrugged, his stepmother’s social life clearly oflimited interest, and swung his bag onto his back. He was taller than Gemma and had to look down to make eye contact with her when they spoke. “Are you coming home, too?”
“Not yet. I’m on-site until close tonight. I just came to check if you were down here, because—” Gemma’s voice was light, but Falk caught the undertone. “You know, sometimes you’re down here.”
They all glanced at the plaque, then Joel crouched and clipped the lead onto Luna’s collar.
“Yeah, well. All done now,” he said in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring but just made Gemma press her lips together in a line. He noticed and gave her a small smile as he turned to leave, raising a hand to Falk. “Thanks again.”
“No worries.”
“Text me when you’re home,” Gemma called after him, and the boy nodded without looking back. Falk stood beside her, and they watched him disappear in the other direction down the track. The night suddenly seemed very big and quiet, and Falk took a breath.
“Listen, I hope I wasn’t overstep—”
“Thank you, that was—”
They caught each other’s eye.
“Sorry,” he said. “You go.”
Gemma hesitated. She glanced again at the memorial plaque and the clean barriers, then looked at Falk and nodded back toward the festival.
“Let’s get a drink. Please. If you have time?”
“Yeah. Great. That sounds—” Falk stopped. His hands fell to his pocketless shorts. “I actually don’t have any money.”
