The sun had been very low by the time Davo dropped him at the service station near the Gold Coast turn off. James had walked for an hour until finding this lonely shelter. There was an old glass-covered noticeboard, but when there’d been enough light, he hadn’t been able to read the faded words of the timetable, if it was a timetable.

There was a break in the showers at first light, so he started walking, using the road because the grass either side was sodden and his feet were already wet enough. The coastal air warmed quickly and steam started rising off the bitumen into clouds that blew out sideways whenever a car rushed past.

He found half of one of Davo’s chocolate bars in his shirt pocket, scoffed it, and washed his fingers in a puddle. Beyond, a field of cows shook their hides at the approaching sun. One or two of them looked at him as though he might be the farmer about to bring their feed.

Around the last bend in the road, a motel was coming to life. A woman wheeled a trolley along the upper balcony, dropping trays into the little doors and knocking as she did. Beyond, high-rise Gold Coast hotels began to emerge from the haze.

Somewhere in that place, he would find Tony.

By the time James reached the main strip the sun had burned away the mist and the sea was showing between motels, scraps of bright blue and stark white surf at the edges.

He also realised that the signs of every second motel sported palm trees and setting suns. If only he’d thought to take the leaflet off the fridge back at Deloraine.

The establishments became more complex closer to the centre of town. Here, families in beach gear were spilling out of large hotels, heading for the golden strip. James stuck to the edge of the footpaths in the shade of the long rows of pine trees and headed for the really big hotels.

He snuck into the first one, painted a rich salmon colour with brassy fittings. A man at the front desk glared at him, so he sat at the far end of the foyer underneath a row of plastic palm trees and watched.

Inside, young couples were making their way from the lifts to the desk, where they were treated with a bright demeanour by the staff. He heard a few new words: concierge, lobby, bellboys, and observed how they worked for their tips and seemed to have a place in this world of guests and giving service.

After less than ten minutes, James decided what he needed was a story.