We’d scattered her ashes from St Kilda Pier, Sarah, me and the kids, tipped them into the water, just as she’d wanted. They’d coalesced, clumped, dispersed. We’d gone to Acland Street in search of hot chips, holding hands as if that was the end of it. But they’d returned, her charred remains, in the water we drank and brushed our teeth with. Nikau from New Zealand’s too. They’d darkened us, those ashes.

My stomach screwed into another convulsion. Up it came, thundering through the gullet, over the tongue, round the teeth, out onto the floor, my legs, someone else’s. Breathe. Breathe. Wet eyes, breathe. Another convulsion. Oh fuck, here we go again.

‘You’ll be OK,’ Biddy said, voice clear despite the music, boom, grimy, boom, industrial.

‘I love you, man,’ Zac said, rubbing my shoulder. ‘Just get it out.’

‘It’s pretty much out.’

‘Yup, and all over my jeans,’ Mel said. ‘And still we love you. We just want you to be OK.’

‘I’m OK. I just need to get through this part and I’ll be fine.’

‘I know you will,’ Zac said.

I opened my eyes, watched feet passing. I could smell the spew, saw it shimmering when the lights panned.

‘We can stay like this as long as you want,’ Biddy said.

Josh had gone home – ‘Sorry, brother, the party drugs and meds don’t go’ – Sarah was … Where was she?

Biddy’s arms. Mel’s arms. Zac’s arms. I was safe. Oliver and Sophie were with Kyle, would be sleeping, they were fine.

‘We love you,’ Biddy said.

She and Mel went to get water. Zac remained sitting, his arm on my shoulder.

Head spinning, heart pounding, eyes watering, stomach settling.

‘Can I be honest with you about something?’ he said.

‘Sure.’ My head down, eyes closed.

‘I really admire you.’

‘Oh? That’s good. Thanks, man.’

More vomit coming, no, simmering. As long as I didn’t move, my heart, breathe in, breathe out, I was alive.

‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘If I’m half the man you are by your age, I’ll be very happy with that. Extremely happy.’

‘You’ll maybe be twice the man.’

‘What was that?’ he said, leaning in.

‘Never mind.’ He was loved-up. Me too – nearly. When the rushes calmed down I’d be loved-up good and proper. Eyes closed, I felt my way along his arm to his hand, took it in mine, squeezed. ‘I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you.’

He curled his fingers between mine. It felt good, the holding. We were man friends. Man and boy.

‘The kids really like you,’ I said.

He squeezed again. ‘I love those kids.’

‘It’s like a dream … You. Biddy. The kids having other adults they can trust and learn from …’

‘Hey, dude, check this out.’