Opposite her the gigantic frame of Ernie Cahill slumped into a chair. He looked like a farmer but never spoke like one. His voice was always soft, making you lean in.

‘You alright there, Sharon?’

‘Just thinking.’

‘About your boy?’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘About him, about life. You know.’

‘I do,’ Ernie said. He sat back in his chair, swigged from his glass. Sighed and plonked it down on the coaster, wet with sloshed beer. ‘Mine’re all grown up now. Cassie’s the only one left with a twenty-first to look forward to.’

Sharon nodded. ‘They’re good, the two of them, aren’t they?’

‘Yeah, they seem to be.’

Sharon sat forward. ‘What was it like for you and Esther?’

He grinned at this. ‘What do you mean?’

‘When you were young.’

‘I know that. I mean, in what way?’

‘Forget it.’

‘No,’ Ernie said, laughing. ‘What do you mean, what was it like for us? With what?’

‘Just . . .’ she said. ‘I don’t know. Just leave it.’

‘Bit moody, are we?’

She knew what he meant by that. He was better than most blokes, who’d outright say it. On your rags, or some other disrespectful thing. He was smiling, softening it, maybe pity. To avoid cowering beneath his grin she looked around for her son. Saw him near the jukebox, selecting a song. Cassie’s arm over his back, the two of them giggling. It seemed to Sharon as though she’d been married forever. Had she ever been so free? Or even seemed that way?

‘You all set for tomorrow night?’ Ernie asked. His soft voice had grown even softer.

‘Yes.’

‘You talked to all your blokes?’

‘We’ll all be together.’

‘Doing what?’

She sighed. ‘I’m throwing them a party.’

Then, ‘Where’s the patrol car going to be?’

‘There won’t be one tomorrow.’

‘Alright. Good, that’s good.’ Ernie sank back in his chair.

‘I don’t know why you even bother asking.’

‘Just one of those things, Sharon. Wouldn’t want one of your boys caught in a spot where we’d have to do something about it.’

Roger stumbled by, bumping into her. He placed his hands on the table to steady himself.

‘What’re you two talking about?’

‘Nothing, mate,’ Ernie said. ‘Get back to your celebrating.’

Easily dismissed, her husband. He looked at her as he left, arching an eye, smacking his lips. She knew he’d demand to know later.

As he staggered away she said, as quietly as she could, ‘We’d never come up near where you trade, you know that, Ernie. No patrol.’

Ernie leaned forward. He put both his hands on the table, clenched the fingers of the right. ‘You just remember what you know now, Sharon. Not another cop in this town knows where we conduct our business. If anyone was to come up there and bugger it up, we’d be up shit creek. And it’d all flow back down here to you. You think I give a damn you’re a woman? You think that matters to me when my family’s at stake? If I’m in that creek then you’re in there with me, same as any bloke. Pulling my boat by your damn teeth.’