A little further up the road they stopped so Jon could buy them a proper lunch. He wanted to get fast food, but there was nothing around. Dettie insisted on another roadside café so that the children wouldn’t be eating too much rubbish. Katie whined, but eventually they pulled up in a small town called Wudinna, in a place so close to the road that it trembled when trucks went past. The diner was small but almost empty, and the man who took their orders also cooked their food and cleared the tables. While they ate, he waited in the kitchen, hunched over his television set. Halfway through the meal a fire truck roared past the window and their cutlery rattled.
‘He’s in a bit of a hurry,’ Jon said, adjusting the serviette in his collar.
‘Fires up ahead,’ Dettie said. ‘Bad, apparently.’
‘Mm.’ Jon was chewing. ‘Weather wouldn’t help.’
‘Yes. Well, they could definitely do with some rain.’
‘And some cold,’ Katie said. She looked proudly around the table and then shoved a forkful of carrot in her mouth.
Jon waved his knife, smiling. ‘Yep. Cold would be nice.’
Dettie shook her head. ‘What on earth does it matter if it gets cold?’
Looking up at her, Katie blinked a few times and swallowed. ‘Because when it’s cold,’ she said, ‘the fires go out.’
‘Oh, how ridiculous,’ Dettie sighed, carving into her slice of corned beef. ‘Temperature doesn’t have anything to do with fires.’
‘Yes, it does. When it’s cold—’
‘You mean when it’s raining.’
‘No.’
Sam had lost his appetite. He pushed aside his half-finished meat pie and sat his chin on the edge of the table.
‘That’s why there aren’t as many fires in winter,’ Katie was saying, shepherding peas to the side of her plate. ‘Because this guy at school—’
Sam could feel a vibration beneath his head, up through his jaw.
‘Goodness me, girl, you have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Dettie slipped a chunk of meat, glistening like mother-of-pearl, into her mouth. Sam laid his head down flat. The table’s surface felt cool against his cheek.
‘I do so. A guy at school—’
Around him, his aunt and sister kept squabbling, but Sam tried to block them out, listening instead to the sound of clinking forks and clattering porcelain beneath them—the rhythm they were making without realising. It was a dull, distant beat, but it filled his ear, magnified by the wood. And behind the clatter he heard a thrum, like the table itself was humming.
‘Katie,’ Dettie was sighing, ‘it’s just ridiculous to be arguing like this all the time.’
Feeling the table move under him, Sam eased his eyes open and saw Jon laying his head down too. ‘Little quieter down here, is it?’ he whispered.
Sam smiled and nodded.
‘Yep. I think you’ve got the right idea, me mate. Keep quiet. Keep to yourself. Let everyone else wear themselves out.’
Sam closed his eyes again and they both stayed that way a moment, each with their ears pressed to the table, hearing the same clunks and hums through the heavy wood.