Mick and I walk briskly to the ute, avoiding the area where Helen and Marko are drinking with friends — my friends. I am carrying supermarket bags of cash, and I can feel Mick looking at me, wanting to ask me, but not knowing how or what. To allay him, I say, ‘It went well, so you can keep your winnings and the money I gave you.’

‘What the fuck just happened?’

‘For the first time in a decade, I was a winner. Don’t ask me about it.’

‘Right you are.’ He pulls cash out of his pocket and counts it, hissing, and bobbing his head with pleasure.

Then Ben Ruder comes striding across towards us, and in the mood I’m in I’m almost glad to see him. He is dressed up for the races, complete with a thick wool tie from a different lifetime and a clean town hat. He stops in front of us, ignoring Mick, and looks me up and down, taking in the bags of money. ‘Where did a loser like you get money like that?’ He is hoping for derision, but I can see in his black reptile eyes that he really wants to know.

‘I won it. Which makes me a winner.’

Mick is staying close, looking like he might bite Ben.

‘You can’t win like that with ten bucks, can you?’

I give him a stupid ‘Maybe’ look, and notice his feet are very big for a small man.

He points a gnarled finger at me, and says, ‘You’re doing something dodgy, aren’t you? And someone’s paying you for it. Big time.’

‘That’s right. I’ve got a brothel on the coast. It’s the best way to survive on the land these days. And then I just suck the life out of everything around me.’

He is so angry, the spittle is beginning to froth in the corner of his mouth.

‘You won’t be laughing when the cops are at your door.’ He pushes past, and strides off.

Mick takes on a surprisingly good David Attenborough voice, and says, ‘Everyone is so friendly in the country, aren’t they? The sense of community, the whole looking-out-for-your-neighbour thing, it’s just bloody marvellous.’

I actually laugh.

I drive us home, checking the rear-view mirror for anyone who might be following. There is no one, and in my current state of delirium I am almost disappointed. I feel like I could smack anyone.

‘I’m going for a drink at Elaine’s tonight. Will you be all right on your own?’

‘Great. I’ll be fine. Got any food in your fridge?’

‘Frozen meals in the freezer.’

‘Sounds good to me.’