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Were there pips? Was it long distance?’ asked Daniel. Star shook her head violently and tried to run her dirty fingers through her dirty hair. They stuck and she pulled roughly, tearing at her scalp. Therese Webb came to her side and held her hands as she gently untangled them from the strands.
    ‘I don’t remember,’ Star wailed.
    ‘And how much money did he have when he left?’
    ‘About three thousand dollars. We never spent much,’ said Star indifferently.
    ‘And where would he go, in the city? Where would he stay?’ urged Daniel.
    ‘We used to stay at the YMCA,’ she said. ‘Corinna wouldn’t have us in her house,’ and then she broke down completely, weeping like a child, nose running freely, tears spurting from her eyes. Therese made pushing gestures and we let ourselves out into the nice quiet hallway and then out of the flat. It wasn’t until we were in the lift that either of us spoke.
    ‘Phew,’ commented Daniel.
    ‘I should have asked her for a picture of him — oh, hang on, I’ve got one,’ I said. The relief at not having to go back into that room full of anger and tears was considerable. ‘It’s a passport photo,’ I added. ‘But we can blow it up on the computer. They went to a conference on natural magic once. In New Guinea. Not a success, apparently.’
    ‘Because?’
    ‘The shamans were all male,’ I said. ‘No one really appreciates the Goddess-like women who have their own legal rights. Thank you for coming with me,’ I added, kissing Daniel.
    ‘It was instructive,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s find that photo and wander down to the YMCA. Which has some advantages. One is that the Victoria Market is nearby. The other is that I can buy you a drink in the Stork Hotel, a charming hostelry unspoiled by success. By then we will probably need one,’ he added.
    ‘Deal,’ I said. I was feeling wobbly. From being bigger than me and a creature in damn big with the devil, my mother had shrunk and become almost … pitiable? I thrust the thought sternly aside. That woman did not deserve pity.
    After the usual hand to modem combat with the printer, the hard drive, the thingy and the widget, the printer made passable copies of a balding, unsmiling man who had the honour of being my progenitor. The day had brightened as much as it was going to, just before the sun prepared to leave. This is a Melbourne weather custom and never fails to annoy both inhabitants and visitors. Melbourne is the only city I know of where you must, at all times and in all seasons, carry an umbrella and a pair of sunglasses. A full change of clothes, a lot of coins to buy tram tickets, sunscreen, a snakebite kit and a charm to repel beggars are also useful. No, I exaggerate. You don’t often need a snakebite kit.
    ‘Bad news,’ said Daniel, as if he had suddenly remembered something. I bumped into him, never an unpleasant feeling.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Monday. The market won’t be open.’
    ‘Drat, you’re right. Never mind. Young Men’s Christian Association it is. Pity neither of us qualifies. I’m not a young man and you’re not a Christian.’
    ‘They’re tolerant,’ he answered, and took my hand.
    I am willing to walk anywhere if I am holding Daniel’s hand so a mere trot down Elizabeth Street to the Y was an unexpected treat, considering what the day had delivered so far. We passed the motorcycles which congregate there and the strong people who rode them, me appreciating the beards as I went. There are some fearsome beards to be found among bikies. I always deal very politely with anyone who has long hair and a speckled white-red-grey beard, on the well-tried principle that getting my head kicked in is bad for business. Then we were up into the far end of the city, which is full of backpackers, people speaking a lot of interesting languages, and the YMCA. A very superior building, with an expensive souvenir shop and a curved and polished reception desk. I wondered how Daniel was going to approach