‘Fuck.’

‘Exactly. He asks me and I say, Maybe if we could … take care of it, we’d heed your advice next time.’

He found a Bay City Rollers best-of in the carousel and put it on. I only want to be with you. ‘S’pose I should do some work.’ He found a broom and started sweeping the lino. ‘Anyway, then it was on. Tracey saying I should support her decision, it was her body, our child. But I just said, Na, forget it, and asked the doctor about our options. He gave us this leaflet, and explained the process, and Tracey starts again. I’m not doin’ that. I told her she should, and she called me an arsehole.’

He swept the dust, butts and pull tabs out the front door. It was strange to see him working, with his sewn-on logo. He wasn’t the logo type. He danced with his broom. ‘It happens to be true … I only want to be with you.’ Then he grabbed my arm, and we waltzed, sort of. I gave in and sang, ‘You stopped and smiled at me, Asked me if I’d care to dance …’

And then, in a squeaky chorus, like we’d done a hundred times in the cubby, as the batteries slowed the music: ‘I just wanna be beside you everywhere …’ On and on, until the bell rang, and we climbed down the steps his dad had welded.

When he came back he said, ‘The doctor looks at her and says, Miss Smith, bringing a child into the world is a very big responsibility. Like that, like he was on my side.’

The smokes were finished, the pornography, Coke, Rollers, so we helped ourselves to a couple of Gaytimes.

‘She huffs and puffs but eventually takes the brochure.’

‘And she’s … done it?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Why?’

‘When we went out she calls me all these names, storms off.’

‘So she might still be preggers?’

‘I guess, but in that case it’s not my responsibility.’

The phone rang and Curtis answered it. ‘Yes, Mr Haslam … not very busy, no … just cleaning up, then I thought I might hose down the driveway … yes, I know … righto, see you at seven.’

‘And what if she doesn’t …?’

He finished his ice cream. ‘She had the choice.’

He hosed the driveway. I sat on a pile of tyres. ‘I reckon your Mum’d be happy.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘She loves kids. But she just got stuck with you and John.’

‘There’s a secret.’

‘What?’

‘How Gazz holds his smoke, but doesn’t blow the place up.’

‘It’s probably got eyes by now. Yours. And a nose, stubby—’

He turned the hose on me.

‘Or maybe it’s a chook? And it can walk backwards?’

He kept wetting me, but I ran, laughing, across the driveway. ‘Dad, can we go to the footy?’

A car pulled up, but he didn’t care.