7

      As they drove to Felipe’s in Elizabeth Bay, Darley Road was bumper to bumper, and at Syd Einfield Drive towards the Junction, cars turning right were being searched. Flashlights were shone into gloveboxes and under seats by black-clothed police while the car’s occupants waited on the roadside, mattresses and doonas ejected so boot linings could be palpated. ‘That’s a bit of overkill, isn’t it?’ said Cress. ‘I mean – what are they expecting to find?’

      ‘She loves you enormously, you know. And you shouldn’t tease her about still being single.’

      ‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Like she didn’t, all those years before I met Felipe. And then tortures me about not having made Partner yet. At least I’ve got a life. Where do all these people think they’re going to go, anyway?’ she said, watching the line of cars in front of them inch forward. ‘The blackout’s everywhere.’

      ‘But it’s different for her, you know – in Singapore. And she works so much,’ said Helena. ‘You know they’ve set up Moore Park Stadium as an emergency centre. Twenty-five generators for the hot water and fridges.’

      The lights changed and Cressida thought of the vegetables she’d left at Helena’s. She couldn’t use her juicer anyway; may as well donate them.

      ‘Really? Maybe they’d like my carrots and celery. What about a few of those cans of food we brought from my place, could we spare them?’

      ‘Absolutely,’ nodded Helena. ‘I was thinking the same thing. We can go this afternoon. Hey is that service station open? How are you for petrol? Oh.’ Bright orange witches hats blocked the entrance. ‘It’s closed.’

      Cressida glanced at the gauge. Two thirds full. She’d have to keep a lookout for an open one; it would get low soon enough. And try and drive as little as possible until things were back to normal.

      In Felipe’s cul de sac up from the harbour, the road was lined with fire trucks and police cars mounted on the kerb.

      ‘Hang on,’ said Helena, ‘is that police tape?’

      Cressida slowed and followed Helena’s gaze. A blue and white strip was looped across the street ahead of them. She stopped. Next to them was a tiny space across an empty driveway. Cressida jammed the car into reverse.

      ‘Cressida, wait – there’s no way you’ll fit …’

      Cressida grimaced as the back of the Fiat bounced against the car behind her. With the motor still running she picked up her charging phone from the footwell and dialled. Felipe picked up on the first ring. He was shouting at someone.

      ‘Look, for God’s sake … It’s quite a simple matter of … Sorry, one minute. Cressida,’ he answered, sounding relieved. ‘At last. Are you on your way? The police have bloody decided to take over my building.’

      ‘I’m about fifty feet from your apartment,’ she said, ducking under the tape. ‘Where are you?’ Then she saw him, standing by the entrance to the Rex. He was waving his hands at two police officers, and he didn’t look happy.

      ‘All I want to do is go up for five minutes. Look, less,’ he was exclaiming. ‘Up three flights, into my flat, down again before you even notice. Actually, why don’t we even do it that way – you turn around and … Oh Cressida, thank God,’ he said, squeezing her to him. ‘What happened to your hair? Look, I’m trying to persuade these clever, sensible people to let me go up for a teensy-weensy minute and retrieve my medical bag from my flat. The one I need for those life-saving operations on Monday,’ he added, putting an arm around her as he gave the police officers a tight grin. The medical bag. Felipe would only ever use his own personal collection of instruments when he carried out operations. He had an autoclave in his kitchen to sterilise them every night, and normally the hinged black bag went everywhere with him. He’d even negotiated a special clause in his hospitals’ insurance policies to allow him to use them. His voice dropped to measured consultant-persuasive: ‘I’m sure as fellow members of the emergency services …’

      ‘I thought you said you were an ortho,’ one of the officers said. ‘That’s hardly emergency.’

      ‘That may be,’ said Felipe, sighing in exasperation, ‘but they can still be life-saving. Look, that’s not the point – it’s not like there’s even any danger up there – Mrs Ahmadi lives on the first floor, for goodness sake. If it’s explosives you’re worried about, what am I going to do, shake the building with my footsteps going past up the fire escape?’

      The officer gave Felipe’s broadset form a pointed once-over.

      ‘Anything’s possible.’

      Felipe rolled his eyes, and Cressida could see by his intake of breath that a blast was coming.

      ‘Hi,’ she cut in, holding out her hand to the first officer and smiling broadly. ‘Cressida Mitsok. Nice to meet you. And you are …?’

      ‘Constable Glie,’ said the second officer, glancing past her down the street, impatient.

      ‘Hello,’ Cressida said. ‘Look, officers, it’s too hot for this, isn’t it? Thank you so much for being here. What a total drama. I don’t envy you two trying to do crowd control right now; it’s like everyone’s got heatstroke.’ She looked up at the apartment block above them. ‘Was anything found?’

      ‘Forensics are up there now. The best thing you could do for both of us is get back behind the tape. I can’t do anything about your boyfriend’s bag right now. We should be able to clear the area in a few hours. If it’s safe, he can get it then.’

      ‘Sure, officer. That sounds very sensible,’ she said, taking Felipe’s elbow. ‘Thanks again.’

      Felipe