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thing to do is keep calling FACS and the police
every time
you suspect the child is coming to any kind of harm.’ He waved a hand through the air. ‘Reports have probably already been made for this kid. I know of a case where seventeen reports were made before FACS even visited the family. So if you make some calls, it might tip the balance and get the girl the help she needs.’
    ‘Seventeen reports? They have
seventeen
calls to say a child’s in trouble and they do nothing?’
    ‘Nothing meaningful.’ He drained his wine glass. ‘It’s a question of resources. The kids most at risk are attended to first.’
    ‘Did the police say how long they’d be?’
    ‘No. They could be a while, depending on what else is happening.’ He put the lid back on the olive jar. ‘Have you got anything sweet?’
    ‘Dried fruit. Or there’s some Iced VoVos.’
    He gave a half grin and levered himself up. ‘Now you’re talking.’
    ‘In the pantry.’
    She pulled up her knees to quieten the churning in her gut. What would the guy next door do when the police turned up?
    Dave appeared with the packet of biscuits. ‘Do you know the kid’s surname? For when you call FACS.’
    ‘No.’
    He dropped onto the couch and examined a biscuit. ‘They look thinner than I remember. Not as much marshmallow.’
    ‘I can’t imagine waltzing over and asking what their surname is.’
    ‘No.’ He took a bite of the biscuit.
    ‘So her address is not enough? Won’t the police find out her name?’
    ‘It’d be better if you know her full name when you call FACS.’
    She stood up. ‘I’ll call someone who’ll know.’ She had to do something, to show him she was capable of acting.
    •
    He answered his phone straightaway. ‘Yep. Oliver Marshall.’ There was kitchen noise behind him, someone clattering cutlery or something.
    ‘Oh, hi. I’m Anna. I live next door . . . to your mum’s house.’ She walked to the bedroom, so Dave wouldn’t have to listen to the call.
    ‘Right. Anna. Hi. What can I do for you?’
    ‘Sorry to call so late.’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Um . . . I’m . . . a bit concerned about how the people you rented the house to . . . concerned about how they treat their daughter, and in case I need to call anyone about it, I’d like to know their surname.’
    ‘How do they treat their daughter?’
    ‘Just . . . you know. My alarm bells have rung and I’d like to be prepared.’
    He cleared his throat. ‘Well . . .’
    She tried to imagine how Dave would handle it.
    ‘What do you know about them?’ she asked. ‘Where have they come from?’
    He blew out a long breath. ‘Well, the guy is the cousin or something of a plumber who works for me sometimes. I don’t know anything about them but they were happy to take the place without a lease, and happy to pay cash, which was good enough for me. You know I’m going to start work on the property in a few months?’
    ‘Yeah. You’ve mentioned that.’
    Soon Anna would have a building site next door and then a couple of two-storey brick townhouses. One day her house would go too, and she’d end up in an apartment with a small balcony.
    ‘Listen, Anna, I have no idea what’s going on with their kid, but I’ll get you their name. And, needless to say, don’t tell them you got it from me.’ Oliver managed to make every interaction patronising. She’d noticed it the first time she met him at Helen’s when he came over to fix a leaking tap.
    She heard a filing cabinet drawer sliding open.
    ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he said. ‘I’ve only got the woman’s details. The guy . . . whatever his name is . . . Harlan . . . wanted her to be the contact. Gabrielle Seybold. Spelt S–E–Y–B–O–L–D.’
    ‘Got it. Seybold. I wonder if that’s the girl’s name too?’
    ‘I wouldn’t know, Anna.’ He shut the filing cabinet. ‘Is that all you wanted, then?’
    He was dismissing her.
    ‘Yes. Thank you.’
    •
    Anna sat on the edge of the bath and took a couple