Ben and Kelly were staying in the Hilton, at Leonie’s invitation. After the fire, Leonie had acted with unusual generosity toward Kelly. The shake-out of the legal proceedings over The Lodge would take months, but from what Kelly had told Gordon, the pair of them, plus Carl, would get something. The Lodge and its contents were virtually worthless other than a handful of valuables purchased from Eastons homewares, but the land was worth considerably more without the house. The land title came under an obscure piece of legislation—dating to the Depression, when it was enacted to protect squatters and fishermen—that awarded ownership, in case of force majeure, to its most recent continuous occupants. In this case, Kelly, Carl and Gordon were the continuous occupants of a block of land that could not be redeveloped, but must, should an act of God destroy the dwelling, be compulsorily acquired by the state at its most recent valuation. Records revealed that the valuation of the property lay with the last assessment made by the Bluebird Building Society. Gordon, whose habit was to fill out forms stating that he had ‘No occupation’, had been wrong. He had one occupation, which was occupation itself. It had just made him a millionaire. If the fire was an act of God, then this God had revealed an unexpected sense of humour. Leonie had outsmarted herself: in that window where she was not the titular owner of the property, where the names on the holding company documents were Gordon’s, Carl’s and Kelly’s, Leonie was vulnerable. She had banked on nothing changing during that time. But one act of God had left her with nothing of The Lodge, and a now-perilous collateral situation for her development of the Hilton.

‘Turns out that Leonie’s legal advice wasn’t as sharp as everyone thought,’ Gordon said.

It would take time for the money to come through. Leonie had offered Kelly an interim deal, whereby if Leonie covered Kelly and Ben until the payout, Kelly would cut Leonie in on the settlement.

‘Is Kel going to accept?’ Sam asked.

‘She told Leonie to go fuck herself. But Leonie’s playing the long game.’

Sam smiled. ‘And Benny? What does he want?’

‘Same as ever. He reckons I’d be happy if I pissed off Up North.’

To this, Sam was Buddha-silent. They arrived at the nursing home. Norma’s car was parked outside. Sam left his engine running.

‘Brother?’ Gordon said.

Sam was sitting with his hands on the steering wheel, ten past two, as if he was speeding up the highway.

‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

‘Being a good bloke.’

‘All part of the service.’

‘We made our bed and filled it with our shit. You’re right.’

‘And sometimes the only way forward is to blow it up.’

‘Hey. I’m sorry about Tony,’ Gordon said. ‘They might be fuckwits, but they’re still our fathers.’

‘And I’m sorry about what had to happen.’