For once, he was lost for words.

‘Glory Days?’ I said.

‘She’s not gonna give up.’

So it seemed. I’d given him the newspaper clipping. He’d screwed it up, threatening to march around to her place and have it out, get a lawyer, call the police, but decided he was only giving her oxygen.

He was off across the compound, the library verandah, Home Economics and the bike quad.

‘In a way, it’s not Curtis’s fault. He was never taught right from wrong. But the girl, Kerry, suffers from his selfishness. Her mother threatens to throw her out.’

He arrived, opened the door and said, ‘Turn it off.’

Mrs Masharin came out and said, ‘What is it?’

‘That’s not a book, she’s made it up.’ He approached Dwayne and started flicking switches.

‘Out!’ Masharin demanded. ‘Clem, take him out.’

Curtis just looked at Tracey.

‘We are left with the feeling that some boys will never become men. Never grow up, learn responsibility.’

‘It’s about me!’ he said to Masharin.

‘Out!’

He just stared at Tracey. She finished, came out, and walked past. ‘Thanks, Mrs Masharin.’ And exited the control room.

August

A shopping date. Jen was at work, and Mum out to lunch with some of her friends. Ernie and Peter arrived, and we climbed into the 120Y. Pop drove us, parked over two spots (crooked) and we went in. Peter saw the photo machine and said, ‘We should have a record.’

Pop said, ‘Don’t be stupid.’

But Peter insisted. We dragged Pop into the box and arranged ourselves—me on my knees, my head popping up between the three stooges. Flash, and four copies. Peter promised to chop them up, share them, and Pop said, ‘Don’t worry about mine.’

Aisle four. Ernie put two bags of flour in the trolley. ‘Who’s cookin’?’

‘We can take it in turns,’ Pop said. ‘I’ve been doin’ some research.’

He told them about the file he’d created: a collection of easy-to-cook recipes, courtesy of Margaret Fulton. ‘Lotta pork.’

‘Pork?’ Peter asked.

‘Keeps best in the esky. Spare ribs, sweet and sour. You two like pork?’

‘Fatty,’ Ernie said.

‘Bad luck. Chicken doesn’t keep.’

‘Bita beef?’

‘Pork’s best.’

Ern left it there. The details could wait. He put a few bottles of Coke in the trolley and Pop said, ‘We can’t take those.’

‘Why?’

‘Weight.’ He put them back.

Ernie didn’t like this, and returned a single bottle to the trolley. Pop took it out. They stared at each other. Ern said, ‘It’s not just what you want.’

‘It’s what’s practical. You agreed.’ He showed him a list he’d made: water and sugar, flour, curry powder (everything tasted better with curry), gravy (as with curry), croutons, carrots, potatoes, turnips. Most of which could be used for stew.

Ern said, ‘It’s not the Calvert expedition. We can still eat decent.’

‘I’m happy with stew,’ Peter said. ‘Long as we don’t go hungry.’