Like it was so strange, although I knew they’d drunk together. Walked down Lanark, and North East Road, past Economy butchers and Apex glass. Tying Fi-Fi to the post and heading in. I knew they’d sat together, for hours, discussing the economy and Whitlam and the 620 Bulletside pickup. And I also knew something had happened. ‘I can drop you, Pop.’

‘No time for that.’

‘Got all day.’

‘No.’

I turned onto the main road, merged and drove with my hands on cold plastic. I tried to think what might have happened. Pop saying, Unions’ll be the death of this country. Ernie replying, What would you know? Were you ever in one? Pop replying, They’ve killed the economy. Then Ernie standing, saying, You’re full of it, Doug, and Pop telling him he could shove his manifesto.

‘You two used to drink together?’ I said.

‘Coupla times,’ Pop replied. ‘Careful, you’re straying into the other lane.’

‘You should have a beer, Pop. Get you out of the house.’

‘Eyes on the road. Stop nattering.’

‘You’re always complaining how bored you are, now you stopped fixing cars.’

‘When did I say that?’

‘Why’d you stop?’ Ernie asked.

Pop didn’t want to be drawn. ‘Once you get to my age …’

‘You got all that knowledge, you should keep at it. Man’s only done when he stops tinkerin’.’

Pop studied the road.

‘You can come in for a drink,’ Ernie said. ‘My shout. That was all a long time ago and we’ve moved on, eh?’

‘From what?’ I asked.

‘None of your business,’ Pop said.

Ernie popped his head between the bucket seats. ‘It was a big—’

‘It’s all done, Ernie!’

And he retreated, stroking Fi-Fi.

We drove in silence.

‘You got a good eye,’ Ernie said to me. ‘Hasn’t he, Doug?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll be ready in no time.’

‘I gotta hurry,’ I said. ‘I wanna get my licence before September.’

‘Why’s that?’

Pop turned back to him. ‘He just means soon.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, taking my cue. I could hear the cogs in Ernie’s head clunking. He knew how to read Pop as well as anyone. He said, ‘You goin’ somewhere, Doug?’

Pop turned back. ‘No, I am bloody not.’

‘Calm down.’

Silence, again, as the traffic settled.

‘Bit of a drive, eh, Doug?’

‘No bloody drive. We can pull over and let you out?’

‘Sorry.’

Another bus, but Pop was preoccupied.

Then Ernie said, ‘What’s this?’ And produced a groundsheet from our shopping expedition.

Pop said, ‘It’s nothing.’ He poked my side. ‘Hurry up. He needs his shandy.’

Ernie examined it. ‘You only need a groundsheet for one thing.’

‘Lots of things,’ Pop said.

‘Like what?’

‘Like lots of bloody things.’

‘Like driving west?’

Pop turned to him again. ‘No.’

‘I’m surprised it’s taken so long, Doug.’

‘Mind yer own business.’

‘Last time you said we’d go. What, you goin’ with Clem?’