I hit play. Comrades and friendship. And bed-danced.

Pop had got dressed up, polished his shoes (although Mum told him you wouldn’t see them) and oiled his hair. Now, he stood, waiting: red. Next to him, a maths teacher from Melbourne (with a handlebar moustache): yellow. And next to him, a homemaker from Hervey Bay: blue. The three of them, waiting, as Burgo and Adriana had a laugh with the floor manager.

I said to Mum, ‘D’you reckon he’ll be okay?’

‘Just what he needs.’

I wasn’t so sure. Television amplified the smallest imperfection. Then again, Burgo was nice, and wouldn’t make fun of him. There was a warm-up man, and he told jokes he probably told every Friday. (What’s the worst time to have a heart attack? When yer playin’ charades!) Friday, because all five episodes were taped on one afternoon. We’d sat through Monday and Tuesday night, Burgo and Adriana changing their clothes between each episode. Everything, changed. Contestants, banter, prizes. Even references to Ted, from Gladstone, who’d been saving for a year to visit.

It was exciting to see what was normally on telly, there, in front of you. The inch-high people made real, the wheel that actually clicked as it turned, the music, the APPLAUSE sign, cameras, the lot. The opal pendant and antique desk, a designer dress and Atari home entertainment package.

The stage manager quietened us and we sat waiting. It seemed strange: a million mums and dads and kids sitting with their tea on their lap. Old folks in nursing homes, fireys waiting for a call, the nation united in its love of OCCUPATION, seven letters. I’d told the Burrells, the Donnellans, and everyone was planning to watch when it was eventually screened. So every time the camera panned the audience I’d wave so everyone at Gleneagles High, Primary, scouts, Don’s, the lot, would see me and think, Wow, Clem really made it. Wheel of Fortune!

We applauded and Burgo said to Pop, ‘I hear you’re a Datsun man?’

‘Yes … indeed.’

‘And, Doug, what’s your favourite model?’

He stopped to think. Stopping didn’t make good television so Adriana said, ‘I used to have a Datsun.’

Burgo agreed. ‘I think we all did … before we grew up.’

Laughter.

‘The 610,’ Pop said, ‘Nineteen seventy-one.’

‘And what are you gonna do with the money if you win?’

‘Eh?’ He stared at the lights, and swayed. Again, dead air.

‘Maybe take the wife on a trip?’

‘She’s dead.’

Bummer. Bad, bad telly. So Adriana said, ‘You can take me if you like, Doug.’

I was sure he didn’t look right. I’d said this to Mum, earlier that morning. ‘Do you think we should go?’

‘He’s looking forward to it.’

‘He’s a bit vague.’

‘It’s a long wait for tickets.’

We were going, regardless. Pop would come good, spin the wheel and win some money. Or at least that was the plan.