We were in the backyard under dark skies, Sarah hanging clothes, Zac loitering with intent. He’d stayed at ours the day we got back, on the fourth, but had been living at Josh’s in the fortnight or so since.

‘So yeah, her name’s Rhiannon,’ he said, flicking ash towards the garden plants he hadn’t watered and Sarah had brought back, slowly, from the brink. ‘Josh thinks I’m falling in love with her.’

I’d tried to hide my alarm on seeing Josh a few nights earlier. His voice was quieter, his gait had worsened – he was stooped, closed in. He could talk to me any time, he knew that, but I could reach out for him more too. Just a hand – here, Josh, grab my wrist, I can’t lift you, you’re sinking, too heavy, brother, but I can comfort you as you go under.

‘I’m guessing from your voice you really like this one,’ Sarah said, hanging her wet jeans.

‘What do you mean?’ Zac said, laughing, rocking back on his heels.

Sarah and Zac were thick as thieves, would be even thicker when we found a place to rent together.

I stood a few feet away listening, pretending to read something on my phone – a text from Biddy, say, just a text – even one a day seemed to be asking too much at the moment.

I’d messaged her after work: How are you? How’s your day been? X

She’d texted, an hour later: All good x

I’d texted again before sitting down for dinner with Sarah, Zac and the kids: Maybe I could come to yours tonight?

She’d still not replied.

Zac had aced – his word – the entrance exam for his masters and would be starting uni full-time in February, pending completion of his summer intensive course. And I’d be starting at Monash, all going well. I’d made it through to the second round of interviews. My vision. What was my vision for the role? That had stumped me. I’d flopped around like a stunned mullet on the deck of the interview room but, all the same, I’d more or less aced it. Kudos to me.

Biddy had responded to my victory with passion, but not the same passion as before. Sarah had responded with a few congratulatory words, and then we’d argued.

‘It’s good to hear your love-life’s picking up,’ she said to Zac, reaching for the line, her backside sticking out.

‘Yours too,’ he said, watching her, eyes wandering.

I was right next to them, looking at my phone, so I could obviously hear everything. But that was OK. Talking about Sarah’s voracious sexuality, knowing I was too emasculated to protest, a clown with his pants down – that was OK. Against the odds, we’d had sex twice – with condoms – since Numurkah.

‘Now you just need a job,’ Sarah said.