But if I go, at least a meeting will stop me sitting here, thinking about everything. And it will get Marko off my back. This is no small thing. He is used to me saying, ‘No.’ I take a beer out of the fridge, examine it, and then put it back. Perhaps a meeting would be a good thing.

When I arrive at the fire shed there are six utes there already, which suggests a good roll-up. I have not been to a public meeting of any sort since the accident. Come to think of it, I haven’t been anywhere except on my recent excursions to the races, Elaine’s, Dave Martin’s, and the pub. I can see Marko, Ian, Jake Cole, Freddie Doolan, Cliff Peters, Bob Handy, and a couple of others. I know the parents, children, wives, brothers, and sisters of every one of them. Freddie has just become a grandfather, so I know four generations of his family. These are my people, but I am not of them. They greet me warmly. They talk about the weather, and sport, and crops, so no one has to go near a topic that might accidentally bring up a comment about James, or sons, or young men, or death. Despite this, Cliff grabs my shoulder, gives it a bit of a shake, and says how good it is to see me. He is a large, solidly built man with a breaking smile and round, shiny cheeks. I reckon soon a doctor or a wife will put him on a diet, and he will become serious and suddenly older like the reduced often are. For now, he sees life as a great joke, one that he can easily laugh his way through. I would be jealous of this if I could imagine myself in someone else’s shoes.

Marko starts the meeting. There are apologies, minutes from the last meeting, and correspondence from the state fire brigade hierarchy. We stand in a circle and listen. There is no risk of Ben coming, because he would never bother with an organisation that it is not compulsory to attend and that offers no immediate personal gain. Everybody is serious-faced and respectful, until Jake asks if anyone has learned to work the gadgets on the truck yet. Everyone laughs, except me and Fire Captain Marko. Marko gets up into the cab of the small truck, starts it up, and proceeds to give a lecture on all the features of the truck. By the time he has small and large sprays going, the lights on, and the heat shield down, he can’t see what he’s doing, and everyone is getting wet and killing themselves laughing. I smile, and get into it the best I can.