Tony groaned and stretched, sending the bed springs into a discordant chorus. He let his body roll back, which was when James saw the graze that cut across the back of his cousin’s forearm. Tony noticed him staring, turned his arm and checked the dried blood.

‘Fuck, I dunno what this was from. Must have been a tree branch or something.’

‘Yeah, Alan’s pretty sore,’ James said, going for his towel hanging behind the door.

‘He would be. But he’s alright, right?’

‘Yeah, he’s alright.’

Tony inhaled and as he let the air out of his lungs he farted. ‘Geez, sorry. That’ll stink of beer,’ and he waved the sheet up.

The sight of the hair running from his cousin’s neck to his belly made James look away. He jiggled his towel as though wondering what to do next, and Tony laughed in a way that made James look back. As the sheet came to rest on top of his cousin’s body, the outline of his erection made a peak. Tony laughed again.

‘I gotta piss,’ he said, and went for the back verandah, concealing himself as he passed. James sat on the bed, listening to the fluid expulsion, the inevitable fart, and Tony’s mock surprise at it all.

Sitting in the enclosed verandah, James took his time over the creation of the family tree because it meant he had an unimpeded view all the way to the lane, and would therefore see his mother’s approach. It also kept him out of his aunt’s way, with enough room to lay down the sheets of cardboard and map out the multiple generations of names and faces.

His only resource was a thick folder, a school project of Tony’s from years before. The handwriting was clumsy, but James was quickly absorbed by his cousin’s well-intentioned efforts to explain their lineage.

At latest count there were sixteen cousins, but another sheet needed to be added when Yvonne reminded him that cousin Roger and his wife Helen had another baby not long before Christmas. Aunty Doris helped her dig out the card to make sure James got the name right.

Yvonne gave up on him after lunch, leaving James stretched out with the full set of new pens, giving the whole thing his own touch. Coloured shadows for the names of the pioneer ancestors, and other colours for the maiden names of as many women he could name who married into the Brandt family.

At the bottom, towards the right-hand side, he included his immediate family, ensuring his parents’ names were significantly apart to show they were not a unit anymore. A word of explanation was required: divorced. Across the display, there were second and sometimes third marriages due to untimely deaths; but divorces, no. He made the word purple, and when he stood back from it, it drew the eye like a bruise.