Ned hung back in the driveway. Turned off his torch. All these people were older than him. All looked drunk. None would be pleased to see him, least of all his brothers. He was trying to think of what to do, trying to gather enough courage to go inside, when the decision was taken away from him by two people coming out.

Bill was walking backwards, his hands clawed under Toby’s armpits, dragging him into the night. Colour shone from Toby’s face; something was smeared across his chin, his neck, his shirt. He was struggling in Bill’s grip, kicking at the dirt. Still Bill pulled him away from the shed. Ned watched, not moving, not understanding, not knowing if he should go help, or which of his brothers he’d be helping. He ran forward a few steps, then stopped. Other people were coming out of the shed now. Some watching his brothers, some shouting at them.

Bill was twisting his neck, casting about for something. He saw Ned. Confusion filled his eyes, before his face whipped into sternness.

‘Here.’ His voice a sharp bark. ‘Now.’

Ned ran over. Avoided looking at the growing crowd of people, looked only at his brothers. Bill’s body was tensed as Toby thrashed against his strength. Toby swearing, Toby spitting. Ned could see now that blood ran from his nose and cream clotted his clothes. Golden pastry flecked his hair and cheeks.

Bill barked again. ‘Get his feet.’

Ned obeyed. Toby noticed him, tried to kick him. Ned grabbed Toby’s boots and held on tight, a squirming foot pressed against each side of his torso. Toby cursed them both, cursed the crowd over Ned’s shoulder. Bill kept marching backwards, faster now that Ned was helping. He took them to a row of cars parked up against a water tank. With one hand he tested the boot latch of the first, and when they heard a pleasing click he flung it open.

‘Lift him, Ned.’

Again Ned did as he was told. Bill tipped the upper part of Toby’s body into the boot and Ned dropped the legs in. Bill slammed the lid shut. Muffled roars bounced through the metal. The car began to rock and thump. Bill climbed on top of the boot, pulled a lighter from his pocket, a cigarette from another, flared it to orange life. Ned hauled himself up beside Bill. Rode the thumps of Toby’s knees and fists.

He waited. Let Toby wear himself out. Let the tension steam off Bill’s skin. He felt the energy gathered within his eldest brother lessening with each long draw, each cloud of pushed smoke. When Bill began to breathe between puffs, Ned asked him what had happened.