‘Place names, did you say?’ Mother said from the hall, as she guided Father out through the screen door, dress box in his arms. ‘I’ve got these little cards somewhere left over from Coral Taylor’s fiftieth. They’ve got flowers on. Pink and yellow, I think,’ and she dived into the dresser.

‘Jamie could write them out for you,’ Aunty Beck said. ‘He’s got lovely handwriting. He did the family tree for the reception.’

‘Here they are,’ Mother said, holding the cards up like she’d caught a bloody cricket ball. ‘Jamie can go over to Inverlochy Park when you drop Leanne home, Tony. Show Merle and get her approval.’

Jamie started to smile like it was Christmas.

‘Alright,’ Tony said, and patted Leanne on the shoulder until she smiled up at him.

Tony had spent the whole morning polishing up the original light-green paint job of Grandpa Len’s old Ford, and it looked a treat.

Leanne was smiling up in the front with him, finally loosening up a bit away from Mother and Father. Jamie was sulking in the back, under orders to keep the bridal gown from sliding around.

Tony liked the Jenkinsons’ place but he was glad it would never be his. Inverlochy Park was less than fifteen minutes away but it was much grander than Deloraine, with showy whitewashed gateposts and matching rows of stones lining the driveway that swept up a hillside like something out of a storybook. He wouldn’t want to have to take care of it.

As soon as they arrived, Leanne skipped up the front steps, leaving Tony to help his cousin with the posh-looking bridal box.

‘Tuck your shirt in,’ Jamie said.

Tony slid his hand across the inside of his pants, pushing the crumpled white fabric down. The kid had taken over from Mother, giving reassuring looks all the bloody time.

Shit.

Inside, good rooms showed on either side. Tony and James passed straight down the hallway and through a set of double doors. The main room on the other side was bloody big. Leanne’s heels clicked on the fancy polished floor and she laughed. A grand piano piled up with family photographs peeped from the edge of a dance floor.

‘Wow!’ Tony said.

‘Haven’t you seen it already?’ Jamie asked.

‘Not this far in,’ Tony said.

‘Mother must be baking,’ Leanne said, taking the box from James and placing it on the big dining table.

The kitchen was through another small hallway, accessed by double swing doors with portholes. ‘Like the movies,’ Tony said as they passed through, which made Jamie shake his head like he was embarrassed.

Leanne rushed up to her mum at the far end of the enormous kitchen. The old girl’s face lit up for her daughter, but she looked Tony and Jamie over like they were at school.

Shit.

‘Hello, Anthony.’

‘Hi, Mrs Jenkinson,’ he replied.

‘This is Jamie, Daniel Brandt’s boy,’ Leanne said.