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is normal.’
    ‘Woody Creek isn’t?’
    ‘Is it?’
    They sighted half-a-dozen kangaroos, missed one by inches. They smelled half-a-dozen who hadn’t been as lucky. Kangaroos were a rare sight around Woody Creek and, if sighted, usually ended up on a dinner plate or as dog’s meat. Woody Creek farmers didn’t tolerate the roos.
    The town was sleeping when they drove in, the streetlights glowing over empty streets. As Jack pulled into the police station’s drive, Georgie opened the door and was out of the car before the motor died. She’d left Charlie’s ute parked in front of the shop, and while he locked the sedan, she walked over the road, smelling Woody Creek air and feeling lonely, or jealous, or something.
    He followed her. And the ute’s driver-side door refused to open.
    ‘What’s wrong, Gina?’ he said. Jack had introduced her to his parents as Georgie. His father, a little deaf, had called her Georgina. This morning Katie had shortened it to Gina – but Georgie wasn’t tolerating it in Woody Creek.
    ‘This door is, and don’t call me Gina.’ She walked around to the passenger door. It opened. He followed her, but she slid in, slid across the bench seat and behind the wheel.
    ‘I had a good time,’ he said.
    ‘Me too. Thanks.’
    She got the motor going, but he hadn’t closed the door. She turned to him, waiting for him to close it. Knew he probably wanted to kiss her. His was a kissing sort of family. Katie had kissed her when they were leaving, his father had kissed her and told her he’d always had a soft spot for good-looking redheads.
    They thought she was Jack’s girlfriend. And she wasn’t. Maybe that was what was wrong with her, maybe tonight she wanted to be his girlfriend. Maybe she wanted to be Gina – or someone other than Georgie Morrison.
    ‘See you,’ she said. He closed the door, which took two slams to click it. She backed out, whacked the gear stick into first and drove towards home.
    Home? It wasn’t, not any more. Charlie’s shop was about as close as it got to home these days. She slept in Granny’s old bedroom. The working bee had ruined it with windows but she’d tacked old blankets over them to bring back the dark to that room.
    Had to admit she liked electricity. Would have liked to see a bit of it shining as she drove down the track. No light left on to greet her.
    The lights had been on at Jack’s hotel when they’d driven in and his parents sitting on their front veranda waiting for them. They came out to the drive to greet Jack. And he was so beautiful with them. Men didn’t kiss men, or not where she came from they didn’t. He’d hugged and kissed his father, swung Katie off the ground, and while Georgie had watched the two of them, his father had kissed her.
    Granny had been free with her hugs and kisses. Jenny hadn’t been a natural hugger, but she’d been a smiler, a handholder. One of them would have heard her ute, would have come out with a lantern. Snarly bugger Margot couldn’t even leave the front light on.
    I’m going to Frankston. I’ll tell Charlie to find himself a junior to train, then I’m going – and his daughter will have him back in the old folks’ home the following week.
    She’d sent a couple up to assess him before Christmas. He was antique but still one step ahead of the crowd. He’d asked them to drive him home.
    He lived in his storeroom but owned a house. He owned three side-by-side identical houses. During the floods, when Granny’s land had been a lake, Georgie had moved into Charlie’s house – Jeany’s house, he called it. He’d had a wife once. He’d lived in his house with his daughter until five years ago. Mrs Fulton, Charlie’s long-term tenant and neighbour, now kept an eye on Jeany’s house. That city couple’s assessment wouldn’t have been what Charlie’s daughter was hoping for.
    Georgie pulled on her handbrake and turned off her headlights, and in the instant before the light died she caught a