‘That would be great. We’ll have to spread it around the bookies and the TAB.’

‘You must have sold a fucken lot of cows.’

‘I did.’

‘What if we win?’

‘We share the profits from the local races. I keep the rest.’

‘Orright.’ I have just provided Mick with the perfect day out.

My phone rings, and I ignore it. Mick looks at me and my phone, and looks away. ‘You’ll never have any friends if you don’t let them talk to you.’

The caller leaves a voice message. I put the phone to my ear as if I am appeasing my brother-in-law. The voice is Elaine’s, honeyed as well as distinctly vulnerable. ‘Hi, Dave, I just wanted to ring and apologise for yesterday. I was a bit overwrought, and I’m afraid I might have been a bit full-on. My great-aunt was very special to me. So I was wondering if you want to come down for a drink tonight. Just to smooth it over? About six? Let me know. Bye.’

I click off the message, unsure what I have just heard.

‘A woman, eh? Got a few fans, have you?’ Mick knows what he heard.

‘It’s a long story.’

‘I bet it isn’t that long.’ He is guffawing now at his joke or at himself, or possibly the way his shoelaces appear to be frayed baling twine.

I refuse to think about the invitation or its implications. I have enough to deal with.

‘So, are you going?’ Apparently Mick has hearing like a housemistress.

‘Mind your own business.’

‘Listen, mate, for the next two days you are my business. I know how tough things have been, and I’m sorry my sister couldn’t stay, but nothing will be helped by you becoming a hermit.’

‘I’m not a hermit.’ I change gears for the sake of it. ‘I’m going to the races.’

‘You’ll have to yarn to someone other than me and the bookies.’

I decide that’s enough talking. We park near the entrance to the track, and walk. At the gate, I pay Tick Elder, and some other bloke, possibly a Newsome from out on the Barrack Road, the entry fee. Tick asks me how I’m doing, and I tell him, ‘Okay.’ Mick and I continue. There is a reasonable crowd, which surprises me. It’s a long time since I’ve been, but country race meetings can be pretty quiet. The crowd can only be a good thing. More people means I’ll stand out less.

The first race is still half an hour away. We grab a guide each, and examine the form. My strategy is to bet on favourites — the shorter the odds, the better. A small loss each bet would suit me fine. I can hear alongside me that Mick has decided he is an expert.