She went around behind him and tried to push him onto the footpath. He lifted his hand, struck her across the face and she fell onto the road. He stared at his granddaughter and saw what he’d done. She spat, and it was blood. Don, the drivers, even the lady from the homebrew shop; they all saw it. Pop ran to the footpath, past the dealership, heading north along the main road. Jen, still holding her face, moved to safety. None of the motorists cared enough to pull over.

‘I’ll go,’ I said.

‘I’ll come,’ Mum insisted.

‘No, go get the car. Pick us up.’

I ran through rain, dust, leaves. I knew where he’d be. Through blue metal, whipping up across the basketball stadium car park. I sprinted, and noticed him in the distance. ‘Pop!’

He heard me above the storm, stopped and turned back, but continued shuffling.

In the primary school gate, of course.

I caught up, went into the milk shed and saw him panting, searching the ground for road and direction. ‘That was a bit rough,’ I said.

No response.

‘You cold?’

I realised Mum and Jen wouldn’t know where to look. But I couldn’t leave him alone, contemplating lost reefs.

‘We need to fix that fence,’ I said.

‘It’ll wait.’ But he still didn’t look at me.

I was shivering, but he didn’t look cold. White, bluey flesh and veins and bone that you could see through tissue.

‘They got rid of my map,’ he said.

‘They always get rid of it. That’s why you have to keep drawing it, Pop.’

‘I haven’t got any chalk.’

‘We can come back tomorrow, and you can do it.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t reckon.’

‘Why?’

No reply. But it was obvious. ‘What’d I do, Clem?’

‘Happened quick, eh?’

‘What’d I do?’

‘You got confused, Pop.’

He searched the ground. ‘I was counting it, Clem. Seemed like if you could work out how big … seventy-two, three, four steps, and yer right.’ He looked at me. ‘I didn’t break anything, did I?’

‘No.’

‘She’ll be angry.’

‘She’ll understand.’

‘Seventy-three, seventy-four … you gotta keep usin’ it, Clem. Gotta have a goal.’

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

He seemed to settle with the thought. ‘If we could find it, even if it was smaller than they say, it’d set you and Jen up for life.’

‘The reef?’

‘I been checking, and the price of gold just keeps goin’ up and up. You’d have enough for your grandkids, and theirs. Imagine that.’

‘Be good, Pop.’

‘I know it’s not seven miles long. Maybe it’s seven feet, or inches, but what’s it matter? It’d be enough to make you rich.’

I realised that Pop had to find this thing before the counting and pacing and confusion claimed his ability to reason.