She fell. Her shoulder banged painfully against the wall.

For a few seconds, her world turned misty red. Her eyes blurred with tears. She could feel blood coming out of her nose.

In the TV room, the video came back on. “What do you want to do? Have a go or take the dough?” Eddie McGuire asked the contestant.

She could hear the boy in her bedroom, pulling out drawers, touching her things.

I bet you think I’m one of those stupid old biddies who keeps all her money under the bed, she thought to herself. Well, too bad it’s all safe and sound in the Commonwealth Bank, matey!

Later, she found that he took her purse, her best jewelry, her jar of two-dollar coins for the slots, and a crisp $10 bill she had ready on the dining room table to include in Kara’s birthday card. He also took the brand-new camera that she’d won in a late night talk-back radio competition for knowing how much the colt was worth in The Man from Snowy River.

He spent twenty minutes walking through her house, picking and choosing what he liked, as if he were bloody shopping.

Then he walked straight out the front door, without looking at her.

The dog appeared from wherever he’d been skulking and for a full five minutes, did nothing but run around and around in distressed circles, before stopping to lick the side of her face, panting and whimpering.

She tried to get up, but her arm wouldn’t work.

She tried again and gave up. “Les,” said Nana into the carpet.

Around ten o’clock the next day, Bev told her husband, Ken, that it was a bit funny that Gwen Kettle hadn’t been out to water her garden yet. She always watered her garden on a Saturday, and she hadn’t mentioned that she was doing anything special this Saturday. Perhaps Gwen had a visitor? Although there were no strange cars out the front. What did Ken think?

Ken didn’t think anything. So finally, with a little “tsk” sound—it was impossible to have a conversation with a man—Bev went over to investigate, pushing tentatively on her neighbor’s open front door.

When she saw Gwen lying there in the hallway, she went back out onto the front porch and screamed Ken’s name so loud that he nearly put his back out jumping over the retaining wall and running over to see what was the matter.

“For heaven’s sakes, Bev, you took your time,” said Nana.

There was a messy blot of dried blood under her nose.

Bev bent down on arthritic knees to pluck uselessly at Nana’s sleeve and for the first time in her life was entirely incapable of speaking.

Cat caught a cab to the hospital. She sat in the backseat with her hands jammed hard between her knees and imagined a parallel existence where by lucky chance she’d popped by to visit Nana Kettle just at the same time that lowlife prick broke into her house.

Oi! Fuckface! she would have yelled.

When he turned around, she would have kicked him hard in the balls.

As his head bent forward she would have grabbed him by the ears and driven her knee into his face. And then, while he was moaning pathetically on the ground she would have kicked him again and again in the kidneys.

Pick on someone your own size!

Cat saw her family before she saw Nana. They were sitting very straight and still in a little semicircle of chairs around Nana’s bed.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” said Maxine.

Frank didn’t say anything, just held up a hand in acknowledgement. He looked like a man suffering from a fever. His neck was covered in splotches of red.

Gemma, in contrast, was deadly pale. Sal was in her arms, sucking frantically on a pacifier, dark eyes darting back and forth. “Look, Nana, it’s Cat!” said Gemma.

“Hey, Cat,” said Lyn, with a weird contortion of her lips that was presumably meant to be a smile. She was arranging flowers in a vase, her eyes red and watery.

“Nana.” Cat couldn’t finish her cheery hello. Now she could see why everyone looked frozen with shock, as if their faces had just that instant been unexpectedly and painfully slapped.

Seeing Nana was like seeing the attack happen in front of their very eyes.

There was a large bluish bruise smeared across her mouth and a bloody scab on her bottom lip. One arm was in a sling. Her hair was especially distressing. Normally, Nana took a lot of time with her hair, using hot rollers to create a neat cap of snowy white curls. Today it was limp and greasy, flat against her head.

She looked like a frail, ugly old woman. Someone else. Not Cat’s annoyingly spry grandmother.

“Did you hear?” Nana said to her, clutching her hand, as Cat kissed her on the fragile, wrinkled skin of her cheek. “He took the camera I won on the radio. I waited over an hour to get on!”

“We’re going to get you another camera, Gwen,” said Maxine. “An even better one.”

Nana didn’t seem to hear her. She clutched on tight to Cat’s hand. “It was only last week, I got one of those little green cards in my letterbox. And I said to Bev, now what could this be? It says there’s a parcel at the post office for me! I’d forgotten all about winning that competition you see. So Bev said—”

Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Cat, and her pale blue eyes filled with tears.

“I got quite a fright last night, darling.”

Her voice quavered.

“Yes. I can imagine you did, Nana,” managed Cat.

Frank scraped back his chair and stood up.

“This is bloody—I can’t bloody—this is—Jesus!”

He slammed both his fists violently on the back of his chair.