He always tried to seem offhand, like he hadn’t heard them in years. But this was the fifth day straight of High by The Blue Nile. Vincent had nothing against them, but there comes a point. He sighed gently through pursed lips and hit play, cycled to track seven—‘Soul Boy’—moody and instrumental, nice low-key stuff, and saw Lamar in the mirror nodding to the beat.

Lamar said, ‘So what’s your plan now? Just surf and write your memoir?’

He didn’t answer straightaway, and Lamar said, ‘Saw you sitting out by the pool the other night, scribbling away.’

That’s right: he’d wanted to meet Erin, thought if he was writing on a legal pad it wouldn’t be quite so obvious he was out there waiting for her.

He said, ‘It’s a screenplay, actually.’

‘Oh yeah? What happens?’

They reached Cabrillo Boulevard and turned right, the ocean on their left behind a wide grass verge lined with palm trees. The sky was overcast and a light haze obscured the hills behind town.

Vincent said, ‘I don’t know yet. I’m only a quarter of the way in.’

‘But what’s the premise?’

Vincent said, ‘Well … I had this idea, I could write a story about war, what it does to people.’

‘Like Apocalypse Now?’

‘Yeah, sort of. But then I went to war and saw what it was actually like, and I found I didn’t have much inclination to write about it.’

‘Yeah, I can imagine.’

‘I’m doing more like a family drama. It’s this big Catholic family—they all hate each other. But then the dad dies, and because they have to organise the funeral, they find they can get along okay.’

Lamar said, ‘As long as you put at least one shooting in it, I’ll go and see it.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Lamar laughed. ‘Hey, reminds me …’

Vincent waited.

Lamar said, ‘No offence, but I’m curious.’

Vincent looked at him in the mirror again, saw Lamar looking back crinkle-eyed and friendly.

Lamar said, ‘Did you think you might struggle finding a security job, given you’ve sworn off guns?’

Vincent said, ‘I thought I might see how I go. If it got to be a problem I was going to ask if I could have an air rifle, see if you’d meet me halfway.’

Lamar smiled, looked out his window. There were homeless people camping under palm trees, guys so grimed and tattered they resembled refugees. Like they’d escaped some inland horror to which the coast folk weren’t privy. He said, ‘Well, it’s one thing, isn’t it, not carrying something with you. But I guess the question is whether you’re prepared to join in if you need to.’