‘The face of an angel, come from Heaven above,

You’re my sweet angel, the one that I love.’

I tried to remember more of it than just the chorus, but I couldn’t.

At one point someone said to me, ‘What did you say Ellie?’ and I realised I must be singing out loud, but I was too tired to answer whoever was asking the question – I don’t even know who it was. Maybe I imagined it anyway. I don’t recall anyone else speaking. Even the decision to go to Corrie’s seemed to have been taken by osmosis.

We were half way down her driveway before I let myself believe that we’d arrived, that we’d made it. I guess everyone was in the same state. I stopped in front of the Mackenzies’ porch and stood there, trying to find the energy to lift my foot and get off the bike. I stood there a long time. I knew eventually I’d have to raise that leg but I didn’t know when I’d be able to do it. Finally Homer said kindly, ‘Come on Ellie’, and I was ashamed of my weakness and managed to stumble off the bike and even wheel it into a shed.

Inside the house Flip was bounding around Kevin like she was a puppy in love, Corrie was making coffee on the camp stove, Fi was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, and Homer was getting out plates and cutlery. I couldn’t believe what a difference it made not having Lee and Robyn; it was like the kitchen was almost empty. ‘What do you want me to do?’ I said, kind of stupidly, no longer able to think for myself.

‘Just sit down and eat,’ Homer said. He’d found cereal and sugar and more long-life milk. I nearly choked on the first few mouthfuls, but after a while I got into the habit of eating again, and the food started to stay down.

Gradually we got talking, and then we couldn’t stop. As well as being tired we were so wound up that the conversation became a battle of babbling voices, no one listening to each other, till we were all shouting. Finally Homer stood up, grabbed an empty coffee mug and threw it hard at the back of the fireplace, where it smashed into large white pieces. ‘Greek custom,’ he explained to our astonished faces, and sat down again. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘let’s take it in turns. Ellie, you go first. What happened with you guys?’

I took a deep breath, and fuelled by the mixture of muesli and Rice Bubbles that I’d just eaten, launched into a description of what we’d seen at the Showground. Kevin and Corrie chimed in occasionally when I forgot a detail, but it was only when I got to the part in Mrs Alexander’s back garden that I began to have trouble. I couldn’t look at anyone, just down at the table, at the piece of muesli box that I was screwing up and twisting and spinning around in my fingers. It was hard for me to believe that I, plain old Ellie, nothing special about me, middle of the road in every way, had probably just killed three people. It was too big a thing for me to get my mind around. When I thought of it baldly like that: killed three people, I was so filled with horror. I felt that my life was permanently damaged, that I could never be normal again, that the rest of my life would just be a shell. Ellie might walk and talk and eat and drink but the inside Ellie, her feelings, was condemned to wither and die. I didn’t think much about the three soldiers as people: I couldn’t, because I had no real sense of them. I hadn’t even seen their faces properly. I didn’t know their names or ages or families or backgrounds, the way they thought about life. I still didn’t know what country they were from. Because I didn’t know any of the things you need to know before you truly know a person, the soldiers hardly existed for me as real people.

So I tried to describe it all as though I were an outsider, a spectator, someone reading it from a book. A history book about other people, not about me. I felt guilty and ashamed about what had happened.

Another thing I was afraid of was almost the opposite: that if I told the story of the mower with any drama at all, the others, especially the boys, would get all macho about it, and start acting like it was a big heroic thing.

I didn’t want to be Rambo, just me: just Ellie.

Their reactions weren’t what I expected though. Half way through, Homer put one of his big brown hands over mine, which made it harder to shred the muesli box, and Corrie moved up closer and put an arm around me. Fi listened with her eyes fixed on my face and her mouth open, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Kevin sat there grim-faced. I don’t know what he was thinking but he sure wasn’t doing war cries or carving notches on his belt, like I’d half-feared he might.

There was a silence after I finished, then Homer said, ‘You guys did well. Don’t feel so bad. This is war now, and normal rules don’t apply. These people have invaded our land, locked up our families. They caused your dogs to die, Ellie, and they tried to kill you three. The Greek side of me understands these things. The moment they left their country to come here they knew what they were doing. They’re the ones who tore up the rule book, not us.’

‘Thanks Homer,’ I said.

He really had helped me.

‘So what happened to you two?’ Kevin asked.

‘Well,’ Homer began. ‘We had a good run at first, along Honey Street. But the further into town we got, the more careful we had to be, and the slower we went. There wasn’t any excitement till the corner of Maldon and West. There’d been some kind of action there. Must have been a bit of a battle I think – there were two police cars, both on their sides, and a truck just down the road that had crashed into a tree. And there were spent cartridges everywhere, hundreds of them. But no bodies or anything.’

‘But blood,’ said Fi. ‘A lot of blood.’

‘Yes, well we think it was blood. A lot of dark stains. But there was oil and stuff everywhere – it was just a big mess. So we went through that pretty carefully, then cut through Jubilee Park. Our idea was to go down Barker Street, but honestly, it was a disaster area. Looked like those American riots on TV. Every shop’s had its windows smashed, and there’s stuff all over the road and footpaths. I’d say these guys have had themselves a big party.’

‘They must think it’s Christmas.’

‘I don’t know if they’re heavily into Christmas. We had to laugh though: straight opposite us was a big sign in Tozers’ window, saying “Shoplifters will be prosecuted”. Well, they’ve had themselves some shoplifters. The whole shop’s been lifted.

‘Anyway, we decided to go down that little lane beside Tozers’. It was all dark and shadowy, which suited us. Funny how quickly you adapt to being a night creature. So we moseyed along there, across the carpark, and into Glover Street. Then Fi, who’s got hearing like a bat, thought she heard voices, so we ducked into the public dunnies. Into the men’s of course: I wasn’t going to risk being caught in a ladies’ toilet. Actually it wasn’t that smart a move. You guys seem to have got into the right kind of thinking pretty quickly, but we’ve still got to retrain our minds. If anyone had seen us going in there, or if they’d caught us inside it, we’d have been dead meat – the place was a perfect trap. And there was someone coming – I could hear the voices by then too. I’d been thinking of taking a leak, but when you’re scared – well, I don’t know what it’s like for girls but a guy can stand there for half an hour, and not a drip ...’

‘Come on Homer, get on with it. I want to go to bed soon.’

‘OK, OK. Well, we waited and waited. Whoever they were, they were sure taking their time.’

‘Homer kept himself busy graffitiing the walls,’ Fi interrupted.

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Homer admitted shamelessly. ‘I figured it was one time in my life when I could get away with it. When this is all over they’ll have more important things to worry about than my messages on the lavatory walls. And they were patriotic messages that I wrote.’