Three years had passed since he’d visited the old man, so rocking up now would be awkward. Leon felt guilty. It was easy to forget people in aged-care homes, easy to assume they had all they needed: food, assistance, other ancient friends. But he’d learned a little about old people last year. He’d befriended an old lady on the island and checked on her every day, providing groceries and occasional conversation—a small commitment he’d been able to manage. She’d been interesting, full of tales of the past, lighthouse stories. And he’d realised old people had many memories to share. Maybe he could get Grandpa talking. Who knew what skeletons the old man might have in his closet? And Grandpa might be able to shed some light on why Leon’s dad had turned out so badly. There was no love lost between the two men; Leon’s dad never rang the old man. It was another fraught and fractured father–son relationship. The world was littered with them.

‘Don’t forget to eat properly,’ his mum was saying. ‘And you’ll have to find a laundromat. You should change your clothes every day.’

‘Mum, you don’t need to worry. There’s a laundromat in town.’

‘I miss you, Leon. Come and see us sometime.’

Four hours since he’d left, and she was already inviting him back. ‘I’ll come when I can. But it’ll be a few weeks. I have lots to organise.’

‘All right then. I suppose I’d better let you go. Don’t forget your lunch.’ She’d made vegemite and cheese sandwiches on white bread, just like for school.

‘See you, Mum.’

He fetched his sandwiches and sat on the front doorstep. The neighbours’ dog came to the fence, weaving through bikes and balls on the lawn. It growled at him, ears pricked, hackles raised. In the backyard, a woman with streaky blonde hair was hanging washing on the line, and down the back in the tilt-door garage, a skinny man with jeans that sagged off his bum was tinkering with something at the workbench, the pre-game footy commentary blaring on the radio. Leon could hear them talking over the din: the wife paying the husband out. ‘What are you doing, Shane, making love to that chainsaw? You’ve been working on it all day.’

‘Chain’s stuffed and I only sharpened it Thursday.’

‘Buy a new one then. Don’t cost much, do they? Chain or smokes, you choose.’

‘Smokes. Can’t do without them.’

‘Can’t do without a chain either, can you? Or we’ll have no money at all.’

‘I’ll try sharpening this one again first.’