The husband would come and go, and a daughter, but none of us knew who they were. Mum had tried to be friendly, Val too, but what could you do? Mum reckoned the Kingswood son was selling drugs, and she’d seen John Burrell in there a few times, but it wasn’t like she could ask Anne or Gary.

The Collinses lived next to the Davies. They had a kid my age, but we never talked much. Curtis reckoned he was a retard, and should be avoided at all costs. By retard he meant too enthusiastic, daily following us (in the early years) up and down the street, saying, ‘Mum reckons they should trim them power lines,’ as Curtis replied, ‘We gotta go now … you better do yer homework. Whatd’you say yer name was?’

‘Ted.’

‘Go on, Ted. Channel Niners starts in a minute.’

But one day the Collinses disappeared. Shoved all their crap in a loading van and drove off without so much as a goodbye. Maybe Ted eventually found a friend, but Curtis was very selective. Three was a crowd, especially when Ted ate his own snot.

A nose appeared. Much like my mine. It withdrew, and there was a face, much like mine. And this boy stood back, looked at me, and said, What’s going on?

I’s looking.

At what?

Stuff.

My name’s Colin.

He indicated number 29.

Movin’ in.

My name’s Arnold.

Arnold what?

Ruge.

Can I have a go?

The boy, with vegemite-stained face and a hole in his T-shirt where he sucked on it, came into the house. He walked past Barry Ruge, who was busy filing his corns, and Barry said, G’day.

G’day, mister. I’m Colin.

And that was it. Colin came into my room, sat on my bed and looked through my telescope. My life would never be the same. He focused on his dad, who was helping some men carry a wardrobe inside, and said, We come from Smithton.

Where’s that?

In the cuntree.

I said, We’ve always lived here. Dad built the place.

Who’s yer dad?’

Dunno.

Why?

He left.

Why?

Dunno.

Fair enough. And he focused. See, that kid there, that’s my brother, Chopper. He’s always in trouble.

Yeah? As I wondered what Mum’d say.

Mum and Dad reckons we’ll have a new start. People won’t be shitty with us. Chopper smashed all the winders on Johnson’s deli, and Mr Johnson called the cops, but Dad told him he’d pay, but it was never the same after that. Everyone reckoned we were … you know, a bit crook.

How long you stayin’?

For good.

This seemed okay. I needed a friend. Even one with food all over his face.

Colin said, What grade you in?

Two.