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on me like that again, y’hear?’
    Ben nodded.
    â€˜What?’ Dad snapped.
    â€˜Yes, Dad,’ Ben said.
    He scanned the floor for rats, spiders, snakes.
    Over the next three hours, as the sun climbed high in the sky, they pulled everything out of the cabin and laid it on the ground in the clearing. Ben was forced to sweep, de-web, wash windows and throw stacks of old, mouldy junk down the side of the cabin. Dad wanted to get rid of most of Pop’s things.
    Ben saw seventeen spiders. Every time he screamed or jumped back Dad would help him get over it by saying something like, ‘You want me to put a nappy on you? Just hit it with your shoe.’
    Olive didn’t do anything. She just poked her tongue out and asked the same knock-knockjoke over and over again. ‘Knock knock. Who’s there? Banana. Banana who? Banana walking down the street with his head split open.’ She’d made it up herself. Ben didn’t think she understood the prin­ciples of knock-knock jokes and he threatened to split her head open if she told him the joke again. Which she did. But he did not.
    Ben kept himself occupied by stealing looks at the black plastic in the open roof space. He tried to imagine what it might be. What would his father hide in the roof and get so angry about? Chocolate? Beer?
    As he worked, Ben found interesting things – peacock feathers, handmade arrows, two metal traps with tough steel jaws and an old, open safe with a combination lock. Dad sat and looked at it for a long time. When Ben asked why, Dad snorted and muttered something about Pop, then chucked the safe down the side of the cabin.
    Ben found a copy of a book called My Side of the Mountain . He wasn’t a big reader but the book had an interesting cover – a kid in the wilderness with an eagle or a falcon flying down to sit on his arm. Ben suspected that things could get boring out here so he slipped the thin book into the back pocket of his school pants.
    He asked Dad about things that he found, trying to make conversation as they worked, but Dad was even more distracted than usual. Ben desperately wanted to ask him what was going on with the cops and coming to the cabin and the thing in the roof and why Dad was so angry and when they could go home, but he thought better of it.
    In the large, dark cupboard at the back, Ben found a hunting gun, old and rusty, and a bow for the arrows. He asked Dad about the gun and bow, and Dad grunted something about Pop hunting rabbits and then left the room.
    Fishing rods, a rickety old ladder, loose pieces of timber. And that clump of black plastic. Ben wanted to ignore it but would-be detectives are curious by nature.
    Mum was speaking to Dad out near the car. Ben tiptoed across the cabin and listened carefully from just inside the door.
    â€˜Tell me when we’re leaving,’ Mum said in a low voice. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’
    â€˜I think that’s the idea.’
    â€˜There’s no running water, no toilet. There’s not even phone reception. I hate it.’
    â€˜Read your magazine,’ Dad snipped.
    â€˜This wasn’t the deal.’
    â€˜Let’s just pretend we’re adults for a minute, April. Think about it,’ Dad said. ‘Oi, Big Ears!’
    Ben knew who Dad was talking to. He poked his head into the doorway. Dad gave Mum a look and walked toward Ben, who swallowed hard. Dad placed a hand on the back of his neck and spun him around so that they were both looking into the cabin.
    â€˜What do you think?’ Dad said. The room was cleaned, restored and only smelt vaguely of mould now.
    â€˜Not bad,’ Ben said.
    â€˜Apart from listening in on conversations, you’ve played hard, done good.’ Dad took his hand off Ben’s neck. ‘Pull my finger.’
    Ben did.
    Parp. A sharp, loud trumpet sound from Dad’s behind.
    â€˜Ray!’ Mum said.
    Ben laughed but Dad didn’t