‘Hello?’ whoever it was said from the doorway.

‘In here,’ James said.

Mr Jones appeared, considerably larger than he looked in his photograph, big trunk heaving as though he’d been rushing.

‘G’day mate,’ he said, grabbing one of James’s hands and shaking it. ‘Can I just offer you, and all the family, the sincere condolences of everyone at Jones and Son?’

James nodded while his shoulder was loosened.

‘Blimey, you look just like your father when he was young!’

James grunted and leaned into the bedroom door frame, always after a way to make straight men feel comfortable.

It worked. ‘We had a bloody big booze up for him last month, did he tell you?’ Mr Jones said, grinning.

James nodded. It was better than speaking the lie.

‘So you’ve spoken to him, then?’ Mr Jones asked.

‘About what?’ James said, instantly regretting how the question seemed to trouble the older man.

‘I dunno if I should say anything, but Tony had been late with the rent. Very late. Cassie sent the usual notices while we waited, in case he was just away on one of his boat trips, you know?’

‘Well, I’m sure my uncle and aunt will fix things up, when the estate is all done.’

‘So you’ve talked to your dad about the will?’

‘No, should I have?’

Mr Jones shook his jowls. ‘Nah, not for me to say, it’s just the landlord wants a new tenant pronto, so we’ll do whatever it takes to help you get it sorted,’ he said, strolling onto the tiles of the kitchenette.

James had a low threshold for listening to this type: funny but rude; talkative but ignorant, just like his father. He dropped his own act and followed.

‘There’s also Tony’s old car,’ Mr Jones said, stopping at the microwave and lifting some of the paperwork. ‘Those vintage Fords are worth a bit now.’

James picked up the stack of records and shoved them in the kitchen drawer.

‘Sorry, none of my business,’ Mr Jones said, moving away and looking out the kitchen window towards the caravan park. ‘We’re all that cut up about Tony, it’s just they’ll want the place empty when we list it for lease.’

‘I’ll talk to my aunt and uncle about it,’ James said.

‘Cassie said you flew up?’

‘Yep.’

‘Well mate, if I were you, I’d dump that hire car and drive the old Ford back to the city.’

‘And why would I do that?’ James said with unmistakeable calm.

‘Not for me to say, but you know Jones and Son offer an estate auction service, so think about coming to see us when you’ve chatted with your dad,’ Mr Jones said, lifting the frilly top curtain to get a better view. ‘Tony must have walked to the bridge from here.’