Know that my father will not be bent easily. He will die fighting if he has to.

Steve tries a different tactic. ‘Mum?’

‘No,’ is her response, and now it’s final for sure.

No dole.

No deal.

I feel like saying something about it when we walk Miffy later on, but Rube and I are concentrating too hard on not being noticed by anyone to say anything. Even later, there is no conversation in our room. We both sleep hard and wake up without knowing that this is Rube’s day — the day that will change everything. Short and sweet.

It’s after school.

It waits.

Outside our front gate.

‘Can we talk inside?’ a rough bloke asks us. He leans on the gate, not realising it could fall apart any minute (although he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would care). He is unshaven and wears a jeans jacket. He has a tattoo on his hand. He puts the question to us again, with just a ‘Well?’

Rube and I stare.

At him.

At each other.

‘Well, for starters,’ Rube says in the windy street, ‘who the hell are y’?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says the guy in his thick city accent. ‘I’m a guy who can either change your life or smack it into the ground for bein’ smart.’

We decide to listen.

Needless to say it.

He continues with, ‘I’ve heard a rumour that you can fight.’ He is motioning to Rube. ‘I have sources at my disposal that never lie, and they say that you gave someone a good caning.’

‘So?’

Straight to the point now. ‘So I want you to fight for me. Fifty dollars for a win. A decent tip for a loss.’

‘I think you’d better come inside.’

Rube knows.

This could be interesting.

No one else is home so we sit at the kitchen table and I make the guy coffee even though he says he wants a beer. Even if we did have beer, I wouldn’t give it to this guy. He’s arrogant. He’s abrasive, and worst of all, he’s likeable, which always makes a guy difficult to deal with. See, when someone’s strictly an awful person, they’re easy to get rid of. It’s when they make you like them as well that they’re hard to contain. Throw likeable in and anything can happen. It’s a lethal combination.

‘Perry Cole.’

That’s his name. It sounds familiar, but I shrug it off.

‘Ruben Wolfe,’ says Rube. He points at me. ‘Cameron Wolfe.’ Both Rube and I shake hands with Perry Cole. The tatt is of a hawk. Real original.