‘Not at all.’ Singline turned the pelt in his hand, as if remembering it was there. ‘I’m just pondering things, Master West. Pondering why you’re still trying to sell me rabbit skins when we all know the war is winding down, and the army isn’t going to need many more hats. When you’ve already bought your little boat.’

Ned was aware he had crossed his arms, aware his frustration wasn’t helping him. Singline seemed happy to wait. His dirty thumb in the plush fibres of Ned’s work.

‘I need a sail.’

Again Singline smiled, now with his mouth open, almost chuckling. ‘You Wests. We could’ve got through this so much quicker if you knew how to explain yourself.’ He put the pelt down and wandered to the back of the store, returning with a bundle of off-white cloth. It was folded up, but Ned saw eyelets stitched into its corner. A price tag had been looped through one of them.

‘I don’t think we even need to involve currency. Your pelts for this fine sail. You couldn’t ask for a better deal.’ Singline patted the cloth, summoning up a puff of dust. ‘What serendipity.’

Ned read the tag, calculated the price he’d usually get for a stack of pelts. Realised he was being cheated.

‘Deal.’ He picked up the sail and began to leave. His anger was dying even before he’d reached the door. The material was heavy and stiff in his arms. Already he was imagining hoisting it. Already he could see the wind rushing into it, uncreasing it, ballooning it.

‘Young West.’ Ned turned back. Saw Singline settling into his chair. A different look was on him now, one Ned hadn’t seen before. A kind of contemplation, even sadness. Ned didn’t like it. Only manners stopped him from leaving.

‘I imagine you aren’t going to hear this from anyone else. So.’ Singline paused. Wrestled with his mouth. ‘Well done. You’ve put in a good shift. I hope you look after that boat, and that it looks after you.’ He raised a hand in something like a salute.

Ned was red-cheeked, wrong-footed. Zipped up tight. All he could manage was to nod and cough.

Outside he let the sun burn the encounter out of him. He tied the sail to his handlebars, began to ride. As he rolled down the main street, he saw his father exiting the bank. Ned began to pedal towards him. He forgot Singline’s unexpected sincerity, if that’s what it had been; he wanted to tell his father about the sail.