‘Like what? Not money worries. We have my severance pay, if that’s what’s troubling you.’

I was creeping across the conversational terrain like a ninja. Light as air. ‘But New Guinea? Jeez. There’s a lot of jungle up there, right?’ I said, stalling for time.

‘I believe so,’ he laughed. ‘The whole unwaxed pudenda.’

‘The trouble is, life in New Guinea is not like The Jungle Book, Brody,’ I busked. ‘Real animals don’t want to befriend you, they want to eat you, instantly. Especially mosquitoes. The mosquitoes are probably already texting each other saying, She’s coming! The Aussie with succulent flesh.’

‘Well, they can bugger off, because that’s all mine,’ Brody said, placing his warm hand on my inner thigh. He smiled his familiar, crooked smile and my fanny did a fast fandango. Memories of our liaison could unravel either one of us in a heartbeat.

‘With these pissant, Pentecostal, coal-fondling conservatives in power, it’s a good time to get out of the country, just like our indifferent prime minister jetting off on a Hawaiian holiday. Crossing the bridge into the peninsula today,’ Brody went on, ‘I noticed that the welcome sign’s been vandalised. Instead of reading Welcome, please drive slowly, it says, Welcome, please die slowly. It reminded me of how you said you wanted to live a little.’

‘But not in New Guinea. There are so many insects. I’d need to drive around in a big Aerogard can.’ With immense concentration and willpower I managed to arrange my features into a semblance of cavalier composure. ‘I holidayed in the North Queensland rainforest once and a huntsman got into my room. You may think that a thwack with a towel is the best defence. I, on the other hand, screamed for a SWAT response team.’

He laughed. ‘Huntsman spiders can’t hurt you.’

‘Really? It’s called a “hunts” “man”. There must be a reason for that. The clue is in the name! Nothing like roaming your own bedroom with a net and tranquilliser dart to relax you before sleep. And what about the cockroaches in the tropics? Jesus. Tropical cockroaches could use me as a chew toy. They’re the kinds of creatures that can drag you into the Underworld.’

Brody withdrew his hand from my thigh. ‘Is it the leg?’ he asked, stonily.

‘No! Of course not.’ I studied my feet with forensic detail.

‘Maybe you just felt sorry for me? Well, you shouldn’t. Disabled people are just as capable of being complete dickheads as anyone else.’

‘Yeah, I think I’ve worked that out already,’ I teased, half-heartedly.

‘Then what? What’s changed?’

I felt his gaze like a breath on the nape of my neck. The rational side of my brain wanted to tell him but the emotional side would rather perform a self-administered appendectomy. With a cocktail fork. Blindfolded. While hanging upside down from a trapeze wire.