‘Jamie, I think you know Andy Jones?’

James had no time to respond with anything other than a smile.

‘We finally meet again, Jamie,’ Mr Jones said, no hint of menace.

‘Cheers,’ James said, gulping at his beer to prevent the spineless shell from shaking the hand that was offered. Mr Jones shrugged and took to one of the stools, revealing a thin, sullen youth standing with his beer.

‘This is my grandson Bobby,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Bobby, shake Jamie’s hand.’

Judging by the wet sheen of his dark hair, the kid had recently showered. He shoved his right hand out, a grin forcing the whole face up on one side.

‘G’day,’ Bobby said.

The grip was awkward but tight, although James was more disturbed by the way Mr Jones witnessed the whole exchange with an air of satisfaction, like shaking one Jones family hand was proof of shaking them all. Some kind of negotiation seemed to have been opened.

‘Bobby’s been helping me out in the field today, haven’t you?’ Mr Jones said. ‘A couple of months and we’ll have him ready to sit his agent’s exams.’

‘Yeah?’ Dad said. ‘Good on ya, Bob,’ he added, and clapped the kid’s back.

The three of them laughed. James nodded and smiled.

‘Andy here wants to chat to you about Glen Alpine,’ Dad said. ‘He reckons he could get top dollar for you, Jamie.’

It was an obvious set up, and the agent took his cue. ‘The house isn’t worth anything, but there’s more than a thousand acres that side of Brandt Lane. Now that we’ve had half a year of pretty decent rain, an investor would take it off your hands in a matter of weeks. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.’

James nodded. ‘Something to think about,’ he said.

‘Well, don’t think about it too long, the market can crash anytime,’ Mr Jones said, looking to James’s father to back him up. Dad nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full.

‘How’s that son of yours going, Andy?’ Dad asked, changing the subject.

Mr Jones grinned but he didn’t look happy. The kid looked at the floor.

‘Council’s talking about laying off more contractors. Johnny reckons he’ll be out of work again by spring unless they get the funding to resurface the Wishaw Road,’ Mr Jones said.

‘Don’t like the chances of them finding money for that,’ Dad said.

‘Council are a bunch of fucking faggots,’ Bobby said into his beer.

Dad and Andy laughed.

Even though it had been spoken softly, James recognised the hatred. This kid was about the right age and height, and he looked fast on his feet. Worst of all was that he seemed to have noticed that James wasn’t laughing.

He moved quickly.

‘Listen, I’ve got something I need to ask Dad about,’ James said. ‘In private.’