‘Right. You’re the other one.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘You drive home, then.’

‘What, with you in here?’

The old man nodded. In the difficult light Sidney could now almost see his face and it was weathered and firm. No hint of panic. ‘I want you to drive home.’

‘You know who I am?’

‘You just said you were Sidney.’

‘Sidney Cahill.’

‘Yeah.’

‘But do you know who I am?’

‘You just bloody said that, mate. Get the car started.’

‘I mean, do you know who my dad is?’

‘I imagine he’s old Ernie Cahill.’ The old man lifted the barrel of the shotgun slightly. ‘Have you noticed I have a gun on you?’

‘You’re not going to shoot me.’

‘Just start the car, would you?’

Sidney fumbled, had to lift his arse from the seat to get the keys from his pocket.

‘What’re you doing?’ the old man said.

‘Getting the keys out.’

‘Bloody hell.’

Sidney stuck them in the ignition and the engine turned over. The car sprang to life, the headlights illuminating the old man’s car in front of his. If he’d had his headlights on Sidney would’ve seen the shabbiness of the vehicle. Plain as day he wasn’t from Melbourne.

‘You sure you want to do this?’

The old man leaned back again. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Knowing who my old man is?’

‘We established this already.’

‘Knowing what he’ll do to you?’

‘He won’t do anything to me.’

‘You know why I’m out here?’

The old man lifted his head from the headrest and stared at Sidney. ‘I imagine something nefarious.’

‘Something nefarious? What’s that?’

‘I’m not an idiot. I didn’t just stumble onto you out here in the dark, sitting in your car. I know why you’re here.’

‘My old man is going to kill you.’

‘He won’t,’ the old man said.

‘I’m just watching out for you.’

He grunted, clearly fed up. ‘Start the car.’

‘It’s already started.’

‘I mean put it in bloody gear and drive home, like I asked.’

Sidney looked down the end of the road, hoping somebody would show. Nobody did. He put the car in first and crunched down the dirt, the old man’s shotgun trained on his legs.

Sidney risked the occasional glance and noticed this man was quite relaxed, despite all that was ahead of him. He was wearing the clothes of the elderly, had his white hair combed. Looked like he was maybe seventy, an old sixty.

Sidney said, as they rounded another corner. ‘What do you want?’

‘I told you what I want.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

The old man grunted, sat up a bit. ‘Your brother Brendan has been beating my boy up. I’m going to get him to stop.’

Sidney took a moment, looked at the fence as he travelled beside it. Looked again at the shed he and his brother used to muck around in as it grew smaller in the rearview mirror. ‘This won’t help. This won’t stop Brendan. It’ll just make him dig his heels in further, keep on doing whatever he’s doing.’