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Visitors can experience the austere “feel” of the building with its cells, exercise yard and a black tracker’s hut.The tracker’s hut reminded me of my unfinished Bony, so I walked back to the Crossroads, got my book and sat outside, ordering a beer. I got about five or six pages in when a charming voice asked whether the other chair was taken. I looked up to see a short-haired blonde in her late thirties.“No, it’s free.”“Are you here for long?”“No, just overnight.”“Oh. Are you with the astronomers?”“No. Just travelling.”She was trolling, but I wasn’t even nibbling at the bait.“My husband’s with the CSIRO,” she offered.“That’s nice.” I wondered whether they lived in Canberra, but refrained from asking.“We live in Parkes.”Aha! I’d nibble. “Oh, he’s a radio-astronomer.”“You know that stuff?”“No. I just know that the CSIRO unit is in Parkes.”She seemed defeated by my lack of engagement. “Well, nice talking to you.”“Bye.” I went back to Bony, who was still involved with a death in. "Your son has good taste, just like her mother," I replied, avoiding any direct confirmation of her question. "I'm shattered, I'll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow," I added, just in case my wife had any thoughts of intimacy. "Goodnight darling, sleep well." I awoke the next day refreshed but later than usual, just in time to say goodbye to my wife, who had a full day of pampering laid out for herself. "I'll be home around six this evening, sweetie, have a good day," she said as she walked out. With Kenny spending the whole day with friends, I looked forward to a peaceful, relaxing day. Armed with a full mug of coffee, I headed for the shower. As I passed my computer, shedding my sleepwear as I went, the sound of a loud beep announced the arrival of a Facebook private message. I sat down and opened the screen and saw a chat window opened by a stranger named Anna. "Hi, I'm Jennifer's mother, Anna. I just wanted to thank you and your wife for entertaining my daughter at.
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