Nina

They have checked into a motel in a town six hours inland from their last apartment, a town remarkable only for its thermal springs. There is a KFC next door and a pool in the complex, so Tom is in his element. It has been two weeks since Paul’s teaching job ended. He does not have another job lined up.

‘You know, I’ve never been to Ayers Rock,’ says Sophia. ‘How about we go there next?’ She has just come into the room, carrying a sports bag from the car.

‘I’ll just clear my schedule,’ says Nina. She’s sitting on the lumpy bed, flicking through TV stations. There are twenty channels but nothing decent is on.

The wallpaper, carpet and curtains are varying shades of brown. Whoever did the interior design had a total lack of imagination.

Nina could get out her laptop and engage in some aimless web-surfing, but there’s no Wi-Fi in the motel. Even if there was, she doesn’t want to give herself an opportunity to email Spencer. She just needs to think about something else. She did not say goodbye, which seemed like the best decision at the time. He’s sent her multiple emails already, but apologising now and attempting to explain would only make the situation worse. She’s hoping he’ll move on or get distracted and forget about her soon. She’s hoping she’ll forget, too.

‘We haven’t been on a good road trip in a long time. Moving from place to place hardly counts. It would be a great family bonding experience. You learn much more out in the world than you do in the confines of a classroom, Nina.’ Sophia drops the bag on the other bed. ‘You can quote me on that.’

Nina has had enough bonding experiences with her mother to last several lifetimes. She does not inform her mother of this.

‘I’m going for a swim,’ says Tom, emerging from the bathroom in board shorts. He has a beach towel around his shoulders and goggles on his head.

‘You’ll catch a cold,’ says Paul. He’s sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping coffee from a chipped mug. ‘And I’d rather you didn’t disparage my profession, Sophia. I don’t think life experience is going to teach them much in the way of algebra, or ancient history.’

‘Algebra has no application in the real world if you’re not a mathematician. And how is ancient history relevant in the modern world? It is ancient after all.’

‘I know that you’re joking,’ he says, focusing on his paper. ‘Don’t give Tom more excuses to entirely avoid learning.’

‘I won’t. Now, wait a minute, would you, Tom?’ Sophia says. ‘I have to show you something.’

She produces three guns from the sports bag and puts them on the bed—two handguns and a short-barrelled shotgun. Tom looks awed. He walks over to the bed. Nina is not impressed. She never has been. Is it different because Tom’s a boy? Because Tom is more like their mother?

Maybe it’s just the fault of violence in the media. Totally not their mother’s influence. Call of Duty is to blame. Nina resists the urge to laugh at the thought.

‘Where did you get them?’ asks Tom.

‘The shotgun belonged to your grandfather,’ says Sophia. ‘These two your father bought in Sydney quite a few years back. We got a licence for them. We had to join a gun club and do a course. Six months’ probation. It’s all very bureaucratic and regulated. This country is a nanny state.’

In Sophia’s ideal world they would probably legalise everything and allow everyone to descend into chaos. Nina would not enjoy the mayhem.

‘Are they loaded?’ whispers Tom.

‘No. Legally, you have to keep the ammunition separate,’ says Paul.

‘I suppose legally you’re not meant to use them in robberies either?’ says Nina. Paul gives her a disapproving look. She’s the one who should be giving him the disapproving look. He obviously didn’t manage to win her mother over to the whole staying-in-one-place, not-being-criminals thing they’d spoken of months earlier. And Nina had thought that would change things…How ridiculous.

‘This is called a semi-automatic pistol.’ Sophia tucks her hair behind her ear and picks up one of the handguns to point out the different parts to Tom. ‘This is where the magazine goes. Here’s the barrel, muzzle at the end here. This is the trigger, obviously. And trigger guard.’

‘Is there going to be a test?’ Nina asks. They ignore her.

‘You can take one along next time, Tom, if you want,’ says Sophia. ‘I don’t think your sister’s too keen on carrying a gun.’

‘Sophia,’ Paul interrupts. He puts down the newspaper. ‘I don’t think that’s necessary. And I don’t think we need to take in more than one. We won’t be loading them, Tom. They’re just props.’

‘Maybe one day your dad will let you fire it. It’s a worthwhile skill. Wouldn’t that be a nice father-son bonding activity, Paul?’ says Sophia. ‘Go to a shooting range?’

Paul shakes his head.

‘If it’s just props, why don’t we use fake guns?’ suggests Tom.

‘People in the bank might be able to tell,’ she says. ‘They’re not going to be very compliant if they don’t have a sense of genuine terror.’

Tom nods. Nina wonders how he can accept that excuse. She doubts he even knows what compliant means.

‘I’ve got the best idea. For the robbery,’ says Tom. ‘We could wear contact lenses. Since bala-clavas don’t cover your eyes.’

She smiles. ‘You’re a thinker, Tom. We’ve got months ahead of us to plan. We can relax and enjoy ourselves.’ She puts the guns back in the bag, zips it closed. She turns to Nina. ‘Are you excited?’

Nina wonders how she can possibly be excited, or relaxed, with the next bank robbery hanging over her head. She ignores the question. ‘I don’t think it’s called Ayers Rock anymore. You’re supposed to call it Uluru.’

‘I’ve always wanted to go to Uluru,’ says Sophia.