‘Leave them be,’ said Sasha drowsily, but her mum was already marching up the end of the garden to try to get the girls to put on After Sun. Sasha watched as she squirted a puddle into her hand and tried to smear it across Denny’s face. He was desperately fighting her off, his voice lifting in distress, while the girls giggled.

Feeling quite exhausted now, Sasha slipped her sunnies over her eyes. She heard Kev say, ‘Another beer, Stuart?’ and then go inside. The fridge door opened and shut, and then Kev came out to lop the caps off the bottles with an opener that was built in to the side of the barbecue.

Dislodging the heel of one shoe with the toe of the other, she let them both slip off the end of her feet and clop on to the patio, pulled her skirt further up her thighs. She closed her eyes, enjoying the buzz of wine in her veins, the smell of the sizzling meat, and the laughter of the kids. Kev and Nelson were laughing, too. Somehow the conversation had turned to local bars and clubs. She was surprised that Nelson even knew about any of them, and chided herself again for making so many presumptions about him. She had to get used to calling him Stuart now, she supposed.

Sasha reached for her glass and took a final sip. In the circumstances, she shouldn’t have any more. Then she laced her fingers across her stomach and let her body slide in the lounger. The laughter of the two men and the raucous conversation of the kids became an inaudible burble. Her limbs grew heavy and her breath flattened. Something buzzed in front of her face and she woke up groggy; she must have drifted off for a couple of minutes.

‘I don’t know how I had the stamina when I was young,’ she heard Kev say as he placed chops on the grill. The marinade spat. ‘In those days I’d think nothing of drinking till dawn and then heading straight to work.’

‘Maybe,’ Nelson said, ‘your child’s death was a wake-up call.’

Kev said, ‘What did you just say?’

‘Your son was killed, isn’t that correct?’

Sasha’s eyes snapped open.

‘What the hell,’ said Kev, pointing the tongs in his face, ‘has that got to do with anything?’

‘I was just—’

‘I was drunk, that’s what you’re implying?’

‘I was simply making a point that these things often make us think carefully about how we choose to live our lives going forward,’ said Nelson. ‘In a more moral way.’

Kev’s temper could go from nought to sixty. Knowing she had to intervene, and quick, Sasha struggled to right herself in the lounger, but it was too late. Kev’s face contorted in rage, and he threw a punch. Nelson fell across the table, causing her glass to smash on to the patio.