‘Yes, of course. I’ll just go get him out of bed.’

There was no response and Sharon realised the line had gone dead. She hung up the phone and walked back through the living room, thinking of the VHS she’d normally do in the morning. Why had she started that? Roger had said something about her weight.

Her son’s bedroom looked like a bomb had gone off. Surprising there wasn’t underwear hanging from the ceiling fan. Sharon hadn’t been in here in ages. Guitar propped up in the corner. Next to the bed, pictures of women, mostly skin. Some holding guitars, looking awkward. Did he really like that stuff? What had she taught him about valuing women? She waded across the mountain of clothing and other debris to Peter. Asleep, one foot sticking out from under the doona. This young man was her son. She bent down and shook his shoulder.

‘Pete?’

He moaned and buried his face deeper into his pillow.

‘Cassie called. You need to wake up.’

He pushed himself upright and turned to look at his mother. ‘What did she want?’

Sharon sat on the end of the bed. She looked him in the eyes. ‘Ernie’s been taken to hospital this morning. Cassie said his shed was on fire and he tried to put it out. Something about skin grafts. Anyway, she’s upset. She sounded like she needs you.’

This news gave life to Peter’s blinking eyes. He just about leaped from the bed, landing on the pile Sharon had shuffled through, searching for something to wear. He was in boxer shorts, a blue singlet.

‘She’s at the hospital?’

‘Yeah. She’s there.’

‘She’s alright?’

‘She was pretty upset, like I said.’

She watched her son as he pulled on jeans over the shorts, slipped on a T-shirt. She said, ‘You know, you do a good job with her.’

‘Who, Cassie? What makes you say that?’

‘Just the way she sounded on the phone. Like she knew she could count on you.’ Sharon wasn’t really looking at her son anymore. ‘Hard to find a man in this world you can count on.’

Peter scoffed. ‘Don’t turn this into you and Dad.’

‘I wasn’t,’ she said, and added, ‘Really.’

Her son looked unconvinced. He dashed out the door and Sharon could hear the sound of his car keys being taken from the bowl on the hall table.

‘Peter?’ she yelled. ‘Take her something to eat. She’ll need help with practical stuff like that. Cassie and her mum. Get something for yourself, too.’

She heard him open the pantry cupboard and slam the door. Then the front door closing, the sound of his car starting up. She took another moment to look around his room before she left.

‘Shaz?’ Roger’s voice from their bedroom.

‘Yeah?’

‘What’s Pete up to?’

She went in and her husband, blinking himself awake in bed, smiled at her. She told him what had happened, and by the time she was finished he was sitting up wide awake.