‘Ever heard of straw man directors? Usually they’re drug addicts and down-and-outs whose names are whacked on company documents to cover up for some hidden beneficial owner. In Leonie’s case, the down-and-out she chose to be a straw director was her stepson. Carl doesn’t even own what he owns. She does. He couldn’t sell it to your mum, or anyone else, even if he wanted to.’

‘I didn’t even know that was legal.’

‘It’s debatable. She’ll want Carl in and out, she’ll want you out, and it’s getting pretty urgent for her to get the Hilton development done and dusted.’

‘Fark. Can she even do that?’

‘I’ve told you. She had some pretty devious legal advice. You’d have to be a criminal mastermind to set things up like this. It’s genius. She’ll end up owning the lot again, but the key thing is that she’ll have got her Hilton renovation done for free. All funded by the Bluebird Building Society’s generous revaluations of The Lodge.’

They heard a banshee scream from the peak. A massive set wave came through, cleaning up forty or fifty shortboarders. Only a giant board sitting far out the back could have caught it, and here he was, paddle aloft, murder on his white-painted face, loose flesh hanging from his ribs, budgie smugglers tight against what could, if Gordon’s eyes weren’t playing tricks, have been a half-mongrel.

‘No doubt about him,’ Sam said, after they finished watching Dog ride the wave of the day through to the beach.

‘Is there any way out?’ Gordon said.

‘Well, I s’pose if The Lodge suddenly blew up today, you could score. You’ve got a brief window while Carl’s still on the title. The worst-case scenario for Leonie would be if you, ah, somehow, you know, if something happened to The Lodge before she gets the Hilton finished, then the land value would revert to you, Kelly and Carl.’

‘If “something happened”.’ Gordon’s mood plummeted. His stubbornness had fucked up so many lives. Sam, Kelly, Lou, his parents, Ben—they’d all suffered from a contagious disease that could be traced back to a single carrier. His sentimental stubbornness might even fuck up Leonie. Some consolation.

Sam nodded. Gordon saw the muscles in his friend’s neck and chest contract and his hands stiffen, as if he could feel a tsunami on the horizon.

‘We found out something about Ben yesterday,’ Gordon said. ‘He’s been making money by selling his ADHD drugs to Carl.’

‘I wondered why Carl’s always needing cash.’

‘What, he’s been coming to you as well?’

Sam gave a shrug. ‘I might have organised a credit card for him.’

‘I made Benny give Carl his money back. To see what I’ve done to him, what he did for me, it’s …’