The old man perked up at the suggestion of an outing. ‘That’d be good. I hardly ever get out. Your mother used to take me for a spin every now and then. More than I can say for your father.’

Leon paused. ‘You heard from Dad lately?’

Grandpa’s face fell. ‘No. It’s usually your mother who rings.’

‘She rings me too,’ Leon said, grinning. ‘Sometimes I wish she wouldn’t.’

‘Still not weaned?’

‘Not completely.’ Leon sipped tea and changed the subject. ‘How long have you lived in this place?’

‘Best part of a decade. I’ve seen a few inmates come and go.’

‘Inmates? It’s not supposed to be a prison.’

‘Not supposed to be, but it is. They lock the doors so the fruit loops can’t get out.’

‘Be careful,’ Leon warned. ‘You might become one.’

‘If I do, you’ll have to put me down.’

‘And spend the rest of my life in jail for murder?’

‘Either that or you could spend your life with a woman. Any girls on the scene?’

Leon scoffed. ‘Yeah. Mum’s cat Minnie.’ It was supposed to be funny, but it sounded sad.

‘I was referring to females of the human variety,’ Grandpa said.

Leon shook his head.

‘I’m on the lookout,’ the old man said, eyes lively. ‘This place is full of prospects.’

Leon was appalled. ‘What about Grandma?’

‘She’s been dead a good while. I don’t think she’d mind.’

‘Good luck to you then.’

Grandpa peered at him. ‘What will you do if you’re not going to chase girls? How will you entertain yourself?’

‘I’ll find something to do. Maybe a bit of bushwalking.’

‘How about footy? You could join the local club and meet a few chaps. You used to be good at it. Your dad said you were a handy winger.’

Leon shrugged.

‘How is your father?’ Grandpa asked.

Leon wasn’t sure how much Grandpa knew. ‘His liver’s stuffed, you know.’

Grandpa nodded. ‘An infection, your mother said. Some sort of virus.’

Leon hesitated. Obviously she hadn’t told Grandpa the truth. ‘Ah, I think it’s more than that.’

The old man regarded him with interest. ‘Yes?’

‘He’s been pissing on for years, Grandpa. He’s got cirrhosis.’

‘Hmm. I had my suspicions.’ Grandpa eyed him keenly. ‘Is that all?’

Leon wasn’t sure he should reveal the rest. Not on his first visit. ‘That’s about it.’

But the old man was shrewd. ‘It’s not, is it?’

Leon sighed. ‘How well do you know your son?’

‘Not so well these days. He never talks to me. Must be allergic to the phone.’

‘He’s allergic to more than that.’

‘Housework? I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘No. He’s allergic to being nice. To being decent.’

‘To you or to your mother?’