‘My pop’s a train driver.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

About then the bell sounded and everyone ran into class. I was left with the old woman, who cleaned the senior and junior open units. Every day at three pm, sliding the gal back, climbing through with her vacuum and buckets, walking across the oval, starting her hoover while Mr Gottl was busy with long division.

‘Truth’s better than just about anything,’ she said.

‘I was throwing at Kenny but …’

She didn’t reply.

‘Sorry.’

‘Now you feel better, I bet.’

And then, Mr Gottl himself, calling me in. ‘Carn, Clem. What you doing?’

As I clung to the tree I said, ‘How much you reckon it’d cost to fix?’

She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Why?’

She reached up, and I could see the old turkey giblets dangling under her arms, and she threw the lemon back.

‘Clem!’

I caught it. ‘We got English now.’

‘Go on then. Watch yerself next time.’ And she was gone, but not gone, really. She was always there, vacuuming the carpet they stuck down with gaffer tape, cleaning the tables that Stephen Prawer drew dongers on.

Grace, 1976 style. Moments that allowed us to be wrong, impatient, stupid, but still carry on. Forgiveness, although it was more than that. Repeating endlessly. Two am rock bands pounding the piers of the Polish hall as everyone lay awake cursing Bill Hailey. But it would stop, eventually, and we’d fall asleep, and the next morning it’d all be forgotten, mostly. Man worked hard laying pipes, man needed to blow off a bit of steam on Saturday night.

Grace. 1977. Mr Gottl again. I mustn’t have been as innocent as I remember. Or maybe someone had put me up to it. Either way, there I was in the open unit they usually kept locked at lunch. I went straight for Mr Gottl’s desk. Bingo! The old biscuit tin. You’d often see him searching for change. But this was more than I could’ve hoped for: a five and ten dollar note, straight in the pocket. I can’t remember why; I didn’t really need the money. It wasn’t like we were poor, mostly. And it wasn’t like I didn’t know better. But everything had to be learned the hard way.

‘Clem?’