The engine growled to life. Sam was aware, suddenly, of Dettie’s gasping, and the scent of ash on her clothes. A door slammed, then they were moving. He sat up. It was still before sunrise, and as the headlights swept across the picnic area he saw a wisp of smoke curling from the now-darkened metal drum. Katie was murmuring something, but the car jerked, and Sam had to grab for his seatbelt. They lurched to the left, the tyres crackling, and as they sped off he thought he glimpsed two lumps of luggage tipped over on the road.
Katie started shouting. She was telling them that Jon wasn’t in the car—calling out so loud that her voice cracked. When Sam turned, he saw that the front passenger seat was empty. There was no sight of Jon anywhere—even out on the road—and one of his shirts was still wound up into a ball on Katie’s lap.
The car hit a deep pothole and the children were thrown about in their seats. Katie squealed.
‘Where’s Jon?’ she said, twisting in her seat.
Dettie hissed through clenched teeth. She was frowning. Her head lolled as though she was struggling to hold it up, but her fingers were tight on the wheel.
‘Where’s Jon?’ Katie screamed, drumming her fist against the door. ‘Where is he?’ She kicked as hard as she could at the front seats. ‘Where?’ Her thumping went on, hard enough that Sam could feel it ripple throughout the entire car.
‘He’s gone,’ Dettie said, quietly.
‘Where?’ Katie kept kicking. ‘Where is he?’
‘Gone.’
‘Where?’
‘He’s gone, Katie. He left!’
‘No, he didn’t—’
‘Yes, he did!’
‘No!’
Dettie twisted around, her eyes swollen as she snatched Katie’s ankle and pinned it down. ‘He left us!’ she said. ‘He did. He left. That’s what people—’ Her breath caught like a hiccough. ‘That’s what he did.’
Katie kicked free. ‘No, he didn’t. Where is he?’
‘He’s gone,’ Dettie barked.
The car lurched right, and Katie yelped. Sam grabbed for the ceiling and Katie at once, his stomach turning. The tyres drifted across the dividing line of the highway, the cabin wobbling. In the distance, up ahead, an oncoming Land Rover flashed its lights. Dettie’s breath shuddered. She cleared her throat. Blinking. Licking her lips. She gripped the wheel again, steering the car back onto their side of the road.
‘People leave, girl,’ she said. ‘That’s what they do.’
Katie was crying—tears running down her face freely. Her expression was blank. Her face slack.
‘I don’t know why you have to keep fighting me all the time.’ Dettie was sitting forward, taking short, sharp breaths. ‘I’m not the one who left,’ she said, blinking hard, her head shaking in a tiny, rhythmic quaver. ‘That was him. I’m the one who stayed. The one keeping us together. Keeping this family together.’
The Land Rover shot by, still flashing its lights, the driver frantically waving. Sam was still holding on to Katie, but it felt like she had wilted. Her arm, prickled with sweat, hung limp. He squeezed her hand, but she didn’t respond.
‘That’s why family is so important,’ Dettie was saying. ‘Family doesn’t leave. Family stays. That’s why we’re going to Perth. Why your father is there. Why your mother is meeting us. Where she’s waiting for us.’
Sam squeezed again, but Katie didn’t move. She was shivering, staring through the back of the seat in front of her. As if through the upholstery and the padding. Through the dashboard. Through the engine block and the duco shell. Down, out and beyond the car. Down to the black, cool asphalt whipping by beneath them.