‘There anything I can do?’

Will shook his head. ‘Just got to take it as it comes. I get really tired and the pain is getting worse. I haven’t told Mum or Zara yet, but I feel different. I feel like it’s creeping up on me real quick. I’ve got to force myself to get up every morning. I’d rather just stay in bed and sleep. And the medication makes me foggy.’ He stopped. ‘Maybe it’s not the medication. Maybe it’s just everything progressing. Who fucking knows? I’m torn between needing to give up because I’m so exhausted at having to fight every day, and being terrified to give up because I don’t want to die.’

Dave wasn’t sure what to say to that. Instead he clasped him gently by the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘I wish I could say something to make it a bit easier for you.’

Will shrugged. ‘It is what it is.’ He tapped on the mouse and brought up another screen. ‘Keep your eye here.’ He pointed to the end of the trough. ‘You should see Mum turn up there in a minute.’

He stopped talking and looked at the screen, so Dave followed suit and asked, ‘What do you know about the drones, Will?’

‘Just that they’re about.’

‘You don’t sound surprised.’

He was quiet for a while before saying, ‘I’m not sure, but I may have had something to do with them being here.’

Turning to look at him, Dave didn’t say anything, just waited. But there was nothing forthcoming.

‘Will?’ Dave asked.

Will’s voice was low when he spoke again and it was nothing to do with his previous cryptic comment. ‘Mum wants me to see a counsellor. To work through what I’m feeling. I dunno, to somehow accept what’s happening. I haven’t told her I’ve already seen one but she couldn’t help me. I mean, no one can tell me I’m not dying, can they? So what’s the point? Just need to move on and let happen what’s going to happen.

‘Yeah, I get tired and I need morphine to help me do the things I want to do, but you know what bothers me the most? What have I done in my life that has any type of meaning? I don’t have kids; I don’t even have a girlfriend. Nothing I’ve done will be remembered by anyone.’ A ragged sob escaped him. ‘I won’t be remembered by anyone.’

Dave patted his back while Will cried for a few minutes then noisily wiped his nose.

‘Jeez, sorry. I don’t know where that came from.’

‘Doesn’t matter, mate. It needed to happen.’

Dave wanted to ask about the drones again, but felt it wasn’t the right time. How could he quiz a man who was upset about dying? He’d come back tomorrow.

There was a movement on the computer screen and Will pointed, still taking shuddering breaths. ‘There you go. That’s what you’ll see on my screens.’

Dave looked and saw the numberplate, wheels and half a grille of the ute. Then laughed as Lynda leaned down and waved into the camera.