Martin is laughing, Mandy is laughing, Liam is Laughing. He’ll remember it later, the joy in the car that night, the sense that all was right with the world, that they were on a trajectory safe and true, the frailties of fate not apparent. Now, in the moment, the whole family is celebrating. They’re in the Subaru, heading into Port Silver for the launch of Martin’s latest book, a true-crime exposé: Melbourne Mobster: The Vivid Life and Violent Death of Enzo Marelli.

Martin himself feels a sense of anticipation, the work done, that hiatus between the last edit and publication over at last. It has been a difficult gestation, plagued with lawyers, every sentence checked and double-checked, eliminating anything defamatory, anything actionable, eradicating the risk of sub judice and contempt, purging anything that might betray sources or expose innocents to potential harm. Write an exposé on organised crime and that’s what you can expect. That and the death threats.

‘How you feeling?’ asks Mandy from the driver’s seat, even as she concentrates on navigating their crumbling track of a driveway.

‘Relieved. Wasn’t sure it would see the light of day.’ He recalls other projects, one book in particular, where the threat of legal action was too much, the weight of money too intimidating, when the publisher had buckled. A lot of work wasted, a lot of stress for nothing. Not this time. Enzo Marelli was gone, the godfather, the threat of defamation evaporating with his assassination. His heirs, the younger generation, were intent on moving on, evolving towards the corporate and away from the criminal, presenting a more polished and professional and benign image.

‘It’s already making quite the splash,’ says Mandy, pulling out onto the main road leading into town.

‘Hope so. After all we’ve endured.’ He reaches across, hand lightly brushing her shoulder. ‘Thank you. For everything.’ In the back seat, seven-year-old Liam is listening intently.

Martin basks in the moment, watches the world ease by. Across the bridge, into town, the sunset flaring above the escarpment. No matter the sense of accomplishment the book gives him, he knows it’s nothing compared to what he has found here in Port Silver with Mandy and Liam. This life. Surrounded by family and friends, a community. He thinks back to the man he once was, the anchorless foreign correspondent, the lone wolf, the lost soul. That younger man would have been so impressed by the book, by the other books, but would have been oblivious to the real achievement of this older self…

Continue reading the extract here.

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