‘If I knew then what I know now about how to set fires, we would’ve been more successful.’ Sam took a sip of his coffee. ‘Fuck that’s a good brew, even if I say so myself.’

It was one of the many-textured ironies of a life on Bluebird Beach that Gordon and Sam were now the old crusties drinking coffee in the building they had tried to incinerate. Up to then, Gordon’s mother had forbidden him from coming near the firehouse because of a widely held suspicion about the Bluebird firemen. As it turned out, Norma was right about the suspicion, but thirty metres out on the location.

‘Your old man about?’ Gordon asked.

Sam nodded towards the back of the building. On cue, a convulsive cough came from the toilet. ‘How’s yours?’

Gordon shrugged. ‘No change.’

‘Still giving your mum hell?’

‘He’s a student of history,’ Gordon said. ‘He believes in triumph through attrition.’

Gordon’s father Ronald lived in a nursing home, technically suffering end-stage kidney failure but living the infuriated dream of perfect health. Gordon’s mother Norma visited Ron every day so he could shout at her for locking him up among half-dead geriatrics. By night, Ronald plotted break-outs in order to fulfil his deepest wish: to get behind the wheel of his car and drive into the countryside to relive holiday trips to the dams, mines, power stations and other engineering wonders he had inflicted on Norma, Gordon and Owen in the 1970s.

‘I wish mine wanted to escape,’ Sam said.

A volley of indescribable toilet noises answered.

‘Listen.’ Sam lowered his voice and leant forward. Gordon noticed a rime of coffee froth on his friend’s moustache and wanted to wipe it for him. ‘I’ve got my computer, we can do your visit, but I can’t let the old man know. He’ll blab it all over town. How much are you down to?’

‘About two weeks,’ Gordon said. ‘So yeah.’

Sam finished his coffee, his eyes darting towards the bathroom where Marianas trenches of mucus were being hawked up. ‘You know, you can’t keep eating the house forever.’

Gordon gave a nod to what was a pro forma piece of advice, cover for the moment Sam ever got pulled up in front of an investigation where he would have to state honestly that he had warned the customer about the inadvisability, or illegality, of his borrowing practice.

‘I can try,’ Gordon said.

‘That’s not what you’re meant to say at this point,’ Sam said seriously.