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the bed, drawing up her legs and propping her chin on her fists.
    “Give me a break, eh?” Robert closed the door. “Okay, who’s for a little late lunch? I’m sure we can get something from a nearby café.”
    “There’s a burger bar along the road…” Molly’s mood suddenly lifted, and she almost leapt to her feet.
    “Yeah, please?” Connor grabbed Robert’s arm, squeezing it.
    “Okay, we can have burgers just this once.” Sarah stood and went to Robert’s side, linking his arm with her own. It felt good; it felt right. For the first time in a very long time, they were as close as he thought a family should be.
    “Where have you two been, anyway? Surely there’s nothing too exciting around here?”
    Connor and Molly exchanged a glance Robert could not read, and then they both smiled. “Oh, nowhere. Just around,” said his daughter, and he knew in that instant she was lying, or at least holding back the truth.
    * * *
    Burger Byte was located on a corner not far from the hotel entrance. Molly led them there, her pace hurried and her long, dark hair trailing behind her as she jogged along the footpath. She reached the café first and stood in the doorway, urging the rest of the family to follow. Connor hung back, fiddling, as usual, with his PSP. His face was bathed in a greenish light that seemed, to Robert in that moment, like a harbinger of bad tidings.
    They went inside and ordered burgers, chips and fizzy pop. Sarah had a side salad and a mineral water. The modernity of the place took Robert by surprise: along the side walls were computer terminals bolted to metal brackets. Only a few of these were occupied, and of the people who sat in the plastic chairs checking email accounts and surfing the Net for online baubles and trinkets, not one of them looked over the age of thirty and they all had coffee cups resting by their machines. The era of cyberspace had come limping into Battle, and its acolytes were made up of the young and the bored and the jobless.
    Midway through their meal, Sergeant McMahon walked in. He nodded at Robert and said hello to Sarah. The children eyed him with suspicion; Molly acted openly hostile.
    “Please, sit down,” said Robert, hoping for some positive news.
    “Let me speak before you even think about asking any questions,” said the sergeant, taking off his helmet and placing it on the low, round table. “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to tell you.” The man fidgeted in his seat, clearly ill at ease. His cheeks held the faintest trace of red.
    “Go on.” Robert put down his half-eaten burger, finally admitting it tasted like shit, and not even real shit—just some synthetic substitute. “We’re listening.”
    McMahon took an envelope from his inside pocket and set it down next to his helmet. “So I spoke to Nathan Corbeau, and he showed me the deeds to the property. His name is on those deeds, and he has all the relevant paperwork to back up his claim of ownership.”
    Robert lunged forward, across the table, about to butt in.
    “Wait. Let me finish.” McMahon looked tired: his eyes were heavy, and he seemed to have gained a stone in weight since they had last met. “He also asked me to give you this, on an official basis. I thought it might be better coming from me than from a solicitor.” He picked up the envelope and handed it to Robert, who took it from him and stared at the blank front. “What is it?” He opened the envelope and took out a sheet of typed paper. It looked official, but still he had no idea what it might be. “What is it?” he said again.
    “It’s a restraining order.”
    The world dropped out from under Robert’s feet. The only thing keeping him in place was the chair and the table, and the sight of the shitty burger he had discarded earlier. “What is it?” He had heard the words, but they made no sense.
    “Legally, you are not allowed within a hundred yards of any member of the Corbeau family. If you break