What I’d told her about Alan was quite true. It was very peaceful at the end. Everyone at the clinic understood how I felt. The nurse put on soft, calming music. The vet took Alan away to get the cannula in place without distressing me. After it was all over she said that I could sit with Alan for as long as I liked, and the nurse offered me a cup of tea.

The thing that sticks in my mind, even after all this time, is Alan coming back into the room with the cannula in his stumpy leg. It was secured by multicoloured tape, red, yellow, green, that stood out brightly against his fur. When he was led away he must have thought that he’d be spending the day at the clinic, as had happened once or twice when he wasn’t well. Finding me waiting for him, he lowered his ears in greeting, lifted his head and stepped up his pace. He looked so gallant, trotting towards death with its cheerful colours taped to his leg.

It’s Monday morning, and I’m at The Coffee Spot. It’s in our shopping centre, a short walk away on the far side of Blue Nun Road. I’ve been coming here on my flexi-day for years. It began when Chanel insisted that I join a gym. I argued that lots of Australian men have a pot belly, but Chanel said that it was rarer in senior management. She’s more ambitious than I am – it’s the one area in which we hold different views. She tells me, ‘Russ is a fool. You say so yourself. How come he’s your manager and not the other way around?’ She knows the answer as well as I do: Russ’s brother-in-law is a cabinet minister. Not that it matters to me. I believe that it’s best for people like us not to aim for the heights. It creates envy and attracts unnecessary attention. My unfailing advice to the children was: Study hard enough to be in the top ten but not so hard as to end up in the top three. That’s my prescription for happiness. At work I strive to be nondescript and indispensable. My unassuming, unthreatening competence is recognised by the Department, and I aspire to no more than the middling level of seniority where I’ve made my niche. At a performance review, my former manager once told me, ‘You know, Lyle, there’s no kill in you.’ She was trying to spur me on, but I took it as a compliment. In the restructures, the killers go. Chanel understands my caution but it exasperates her. She’s the kind of person whose intelligence and drive lift her through the ranks. There’s also the Corporation factor. The multinational that she works for rewards visionary unprinciples, excellent muscle tone and healthy backstabbing in its employees.