‘Tell me more,’ said Forest. And Mackerel, sensing that maybe for the first time he had a receptive audience, began to regale him with stories.

‘One time this guy was gonna jump me, because he’d heard about what I tried to do to Davey . . . he was involved with the Business at some stage, and so knew my name, figured he’d try and get some points with Davey, maybe get him to pay for a better lawyer. But because I was dealing the Suboxone in there, I had a few people who I paid to protect me. Well, two of them got bashed, but by the time he got to me, the screws had caught up to him. Threw him in solitary. See, the screws – that’s what we call the guards – the screws liked me. Because I paid them off, but also because the Suboxone kept a lot of the inmates nice and sedated . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘Then the screws upped their asking price, and my contact couldn’t get the Subies to me anymore, and . . . everything went to shit.’ He brightened. ‘But for a time, there was no one more popular than me in that place.’

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ said Forest, struggling to get Mack to stop. ‘Why were you put in there in the first place?’

Mackerel sighed.

‘It . . . started fairly young. Drugs were always around at home. Jesse, Davey and I knew how to get eccies – ecstasy – and coke, even straight MDMA. When I was younger the party scene was bigger around here, now it’s all ice . . . I got into the ice, too. Went hard . . . lost my mind.’

He gave Forest a look that made clear he wasn’t joking.

‘Literally, I lost my mind. Drug-induced psychosis. I should let you know that . . . psychosis kinda runs in our family. I was in that state when I tried to take over the Business . . .’

The memory of Davey gave him pause.

‘So I’d burned all my bridges down here, but I pulled myself out eventually and moved up to Queensland. Bigger party scene up there. I was moving lots of eccies, making good money, but then someone I knew asked if I’d move some ice for him, and that money was even better. It’s easier to find ice users than to sell party drugs, and there’s less competition, so I just kept doing it. I got a “real” job in insurance, but even then I’d still move the ice. I’d rock up in my company car and my suit. People liked working with me, I was a professional, not some dropkick addict. That’s why I got trusted with more, and from there . . .’

‘What does it look like, when you get trusted with more?’ said Forest, genuinely curious. He also felt a simmering guilt. He was lying to this poor man, winning his most intimate confidence by making him believe they were family . . .