‘Your father doesn’t seem too keen to see me,’ Mum whispered. James sighed impatiently while she waved to one of the cousins. ‘Come and sit with me,’ she added as she bore to the left where there were some empty pews.

But James slipped out of the church altogether.

‘Where are you going?’ Yvonne asked as he dodged her.

Halfway between the front door and the toilets around the back, James stopped where the long shadow of the steeple cut along the pathway and pierced the dappled light, like it was pointing at him.

Are both doors shut?

That had been before he’d felt Tony’s skin, before he’d taken his cousin’s weight. None of the pictures in the magazines had shown the truth about the sheer bulk of a man on top of you; like getting tackled at footy, only there was a pleasurable point to all the grappling. He yearned for a chance to do it all again. Just a glance from Tony would give him hope that was possible.

Just then, the bride arrived in a white-ribboned car. Leanne’s father helped her from the back seat with a dapper flourish, Yvonne jumped about in excitement, and they disappeared inside.

He knew every eye would be on Leanne right now, a young woman peering at them from within her white bower. Tony would be enraptured.

The organ drew to a resonant conclusion and the faraway muttering of the minister filled the broad silence of a day that was already turning uncomfortably hot. James ground the heel of one of his good shoes into the sand until something across the grass distracted him. Mrs Beaumont, shaking a cloth out of the kitchen window at the Women’s Club, threw him a questioning glance he found it impossible to hide from.

James ignored her and returned to the door, where he waited in the shadows for some sign that Tony had enjoyed their night, too.

While the wedding party was having photos taken in the park below the Kippen Bridge, James was recruited into carrying trays of finger food between arriving guests at the Women’s Club.

He got sick of everyone asking which of Daniel Brandt’s boys he was, so he avoided people by collecting empty glasses and hanging around the back steps.

From there, James heard most of the gossip in the kitchen, which changed from whispered concerns about the Fryers, to the news that nobody had caught sight of Daniel Brandt’s new girlfriend. The general opinion was that perhaps she had enough respect to stay away for the sake of the family.

The first of the cousins to arrive was Norman, looking just like their late grandfather in the same white cotton shirt and black pants.

‘Hello, young Alan,’ he said, awkwardly offering a hand to shake.

‘I’m James.’