‘Not joining me?’ Dog said, a sigh passing through his words as the Kyoto moment drifted astern. Gordon wondered if he and Dog would ever have the big talk. They had not mentioned the event, and Gordon was fairly sure that Dog was tortured by the uncertainty of not knowing how much Gordon knew. Which was the problem with, and the beauty of, never talking about it. Gordon felt like they were in a silent six-month game of blind poker in which neither player would dare look at his own cards, for fear of confirming bad news. Sometimes Gordon wondered if he and Dog were waiting for time to bury what had happened, as was local custom. Why say anything, if time would step in and do the work for you? But then again, it would also be just like Dog, unable to stand the guilt anymore, to spill out his confession when there was nothing left to say. While feeling a little sorry for whatever inner torments roiled beneath Dog’s factor-50, Gordon did not feel sorry enough to open the subject. It was never too late in life for a man to discover suffering. And once Dog had discovered it, his pain wouldn’t mean anything unless he was allowed to experience its full richness.

Gordon shook his head. ‘Lou’s spoilt me.’

‘Fuck she’s good. It’s a crime not to charge for it.’

Dog reached into his pocket and slid something across the melamine breakfast bar. He withdrew his hand, leaving a five-dollar note. The Queen glared past Gordon, it seemed, too exasperated with him to meet his eye. He turned the note over to spare his embarrassment and pushed it back towards Dog, who threw up his hands as if it was infested with germs.

‘I don’t want your money. Especially not for instant,’ Gordon said, feeling the headache of a ritual conversation coming on. ‘You know council would have my guts for garters if I was running a business here.’

‘It’s only five bucks.’

‘We’re zoned strictly residential.’

‘I insist.’

Dog was always leaving cash, one stone that, as he saw it, killed a flock of birds. Help a mate out. Just the right thing to do. And, in place of any meaningful spoken, written, texted, emailed or emojied words, a gesture of apology.

But only a gesture. If there was a chance that Gordon did not know about him and Kelly, the stupidest thing Dog could give him was a concession of guilt.

Dog turned the note back over. As QEII was his witness, he said, ‘I’m begging you.’