‘Yes. Staying over at her boyfriend’s place.’

Murray squints a little, and changes tack: ‘You didn’t give Mrs Slade that gash on her head the first time, did you?’ Despite their sodden circumstance, they have the air of people who have already won the war. They weren’t like this the first time I met them.

‘Of course not. I found her, helped her.’ The rain redoubles, causing the road to run a river, and the water to pool in the paddocks.

‘Weren’t hiding in her house? Snuck up on her, hit her real hard, and then claimed the hero thing when she came around?’

‘Did Elaine say that?’ It’s preposterous, but really unnerving. I have trouble coming at me from all sides.

Murray ignores the question and says, ‘Can we suggest you don’t leave town?’

I nod, and they leave. Where did they think I was going to go?

Now I am supposed to make sense of this distorted jigsaw. Elaine was hit on the head by Mick’s money-stealer, went to hospital, discharged herself with her boyfriend, and stayed at his place. Nothing illogical about any of that. Did the robber know about my boxed money, or did he just see Mick and me raking it in at the races? Seems pretty likely to me that none of this has had anything to do with the money or the ash in the boxes. I grab a beer and open it, realising that Mick has made a significant hole in my supply. I drink like someone else might come along and take the remaining bottles. For a meal, I eat something straight from the pack, and listen to music on the TV.

6

6

It’s morning, and I am dry-mouthed and queasy-stomached. My eyes are sore and crusty, and the TV is still running the country-music channel that I must have been watching. I am hoping I still have some eggs and that the bacon isn’t off. It takes a long while for bacon to go off. A stumbling examination gives me an affirmative on both counts, so after water and painkillers I fry up breakfast, which includes a couple of soggy tomatoes. Out the window, the storms have gone, so I resolve to return the boxes to their place under the mailbox. I haul myself out to the ute to change the tyre. A fifteen-minute job takes me nearly an hour. The rim is not damaged, so my day is improving.

When we were first married, Sarah used to change and repair tyres. She had no intention of doing all our cleaning and cooking, and so she said she couldn’t leave all the outside chores like changing tyres up to me. I would always prefer to change a tyre than clean a bathroom, but I was happy with the logic.