The old man paused a moment. ‘That’s what I said. I know I did wrong.’

‘Right,’ Brendan said. With the kettle boiled he put some tea bags into some cups and poured in the water. Nobody spoke. Brendan busied himself, maybe in an effort to avoid doing with his hands what he truly wanted. Soon he approached them all with steaming cups, the old man included. He sat down next to Sidney, still without looking up.

‘So I want to apologise for all of it,’ the old man continued. ‘I hope you can understand’—his eyes took in Ernie’s—‘that I was a father doing something desperate, and nothing more. Never meant any harm for your boy here. How’s the arm, mate?’

Sidney shrugged. ‘It was just dislocated.’

Ernie said, after a moment, ‘Is that it?’

‘Well,’ the old man said, shifting in his chair, sipping at his tea. ‘I was hoping to just chat and sort it all out.’

‘Sort what all out?’

‘My boy. Leaving my boy alone. Me leaving you lot alone.’ Ernie said nothing to this. Finally he added, ‘Come on, mate. Already feel like a git doing this.’

‘I already told you I’d tell my boy to leave off yours.’

‘You know what I want, mate. I want your guarantee.’

‘You’re not in a position to bargain.’

The old man breathed out slowly. ‘I know I’m not. I’m not trying to bargain.’

‘I’ve known blokes like you my whole life, Moore. Wondered why I didn’t recognise you. It’s because you think you’re not a part of this town. You don’t get involved, don’t talk to people. You think you’re better than the rest of us. When I was at school there was a bloke like you in my year, thought he was better than everybody else because he was better at everything. Better at school, at footy, at everything. At getting with women. Stole my missus. Thought he could, anyway. Just entitled to it. Really thought the lay of the land was I’d just roll over, accept it. Just the way he thought it was, how the universe worked. Taught him he was wrong with the band end of a broken beer glass. Still can’t look straight, last I heard.’

Silence immediately following this. Ernie sipped at his tea.

‘Bloody hell,’ the old man finally said. His hands splayed out on the table. His eyes took in their ceiling. ‘I was trying to come up here and talk to you. Not get all huffy about it.’

‘Point is people can think they’re above the rest of us all they like, they’ll still get hurt the same. You think you’re entitled to something here? You’re not.’

The old man’s eyes tightened. ‘I came up to give you my apology and I’ve done that. Didn’t ask for a speech. Didn’t need one.’ He sat back, crossed his arms. ‘All I want is your guarantee. That’s it. I think that’s bloody reasonable.’

‘I don’t guarantee anything.’

‘So I guess that’s all I’m getting then,’ he said. ‘Suppose I should leave.’