The phone’s been cut off because we don’t have the money to pay the bill. Or really, Mum and Dad don’t have the money to pay it. Steve or Sarah could pay, but there’s no way. It’s not allowed. It isn’t even considered.

‘Well up this then,’ Steve rips through the kitchen air. ‘I’m movin’ out. Soon as possible.’

‘Then they miss y’ board money,’ Sarah tells him.

‘So what? If they wanna suffer they can do it without me watchin’.’ It’s fair enough.

As well as being fair enough, it’s Monday night, and it’s close to seven. This is not good. This is very not good. Very not good at all.

‘Oh no,’ I say across to Rube. He’s warming his hands above the toaster. This puts paid to us using the phone in Sarah’s room to ring Perry. ‘Hey Rube.’

‘What?’ His toast pops out.

‘The phone.’

He realises.

He says, ‘Bloody typical. Is this house useless or what?’ and the toast is forgotten.

We go next door with Perry’s number in Rube’s pocket. No one home.

We go the other side. The same.

So Rube runs into our house, flogs forty cents out of Steve’s wallet and we take off. It’s ten to seven.

‘You know where there’s a public phone?’ Rube talks between strides. We pant. This is close to a sprint.

‘Trust me,’ I assure him. I know about phone boxes in this district.

I sniff one out and we find it hunched in the darkness of a side street.

It’s bang on seven when we ring.

‘You’re late,’ are Perry’s first words. ‘I don’t like being kept waiting.’

‘Calm down,’ Rube tells him. ‘Our phone got cut and we just ran close to three Ks to get here. Besides, my watch says seven sharp.’

‘Okay, okay. Is that y’ breathing I can hear?’

‘I told you, we just ran nearly —’

‘All right.’ Business. ‘Are you in or out?’

Rube.

Me.

Heartbeat.

Breath.

Heartbeat.

Voice.

‘In.’

‘Both of y’s?’

A nod.

‘Yeah,’ Rube states, and we can feel Perry smiling through the phone line.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Now listen. Y’ first fights won’t be this week. They’ll be the week after, out at Maroubra. First though, we gotta get some things organised. I’ll tell y’s what y’ need and we’ve gotta give you some hype. Y’ need names. Y’ need gloves. We’ll talk about it. Can I come over again or do y’s wanna meet somewhere else?’

‘Central,’ is Rube’s suggestion. ‘Our old man might be home and that won’t be apples.’

‘Okay. Central it is. Tomorrow, four o’clock. Down Eddy Avenue.’

‘Good. At the far end?’

‘Good.’

It’s settled.

‘Welcome,’ is Perry’s final word, and the phone runs dead. We’re in.

We’re in and it’s final.