We stood beside the Datsun. Ernie said, ‘He’s got a two-second fuse.’

I suggested we let him go, cool off, and tackle it later, but Ernie was determined. ‘Come on, we’ll pick him up.’ He held his hand out for the keys. I said, ‘You okay with a Datsun?’

‘For god sake, Clem, you’re as bad as him.’

I surrendered the keys. We got in, and he reversed, straight into some old girl’s trolley, narrowly missing her. He got out and said, ‘Jesus, I’m sorry, missus, I didn’t see you.’

‘You didn’t look.’

We examined the scratched paint, and Ern said, ‘That’ll buff out.’

A few minutes later we found Pop walking past the primary school. The kids were out kicking balls, shouting, and Mr Gottl was half-asleep on a bench. Ernie slowed, told Peter to wind down a window and said, ‘Carn, Doug get in.’

He ignored him.

‘Come on. I promise, I’ll keep my trap shut.’

Nothing.

‘You and me can work things out. We have before.’

Peter said, ‘He paid for the tiles, Doug.’

Pop said, ‘So what? It didn’t cost him anything.’

‘I needn’ta.’

‘So what?’ He kept on.

A small boy followed him along the fence line. ‘Youse havin’ a barney?’

Pop told him to go away.

Peter wasn’t finished. ‘You could go by yourself, Doug, but that’d be a big trip. Clem’s only young.’

I kept my mouth shut. The kid said, ‘My dad’s got a Datsun.’

Pop ignored him. Peter said, ‘Well, that’s okay, if you wanna go by yourself. We can stay here. But it might be nice, the four of us.’

Pop stopped, like something had occurred to him.

Peter continued. ‘I didn’t wanna come for me, but I thought, us blokes from Lanark Avenue. I reckoned that’s what it was about.’

The car idled. I guessed Pop agreed with him, but couldn’t agree. The kid said, ‘Youse got any money?’

‘No!’ Pop said. ‘Piss off!’ And the kid ran away.

Ernie said, ‘You got a short fuse like me, Doug. We gotta know our limitations.’

‘I know mine.’ He kept walking.

We started after him, but I said, ‘Go home, Ern, he won’t be far behind.’

So we drove home, parked in our drive, and I said, ‘I suppose I better get back to school.’

‘What’s the rush?’ Ernie asked. ‘Come on.’

He led us into his backyard, and a fire pit he’d dug in the middle of his buffalo. He’d set up a camp oven, and lit a fire, and it had burned down to embers. ‘What cher reckon?’ he asked.

‘All ready to go?’ I said.

‘Wait here.’

He went inside. Peter and I sat on stools he’d set out. He’d made it like it might be in the desert. A sort of 1:72 scale adventure.

We waited, and Peter said, ‘Years they drank together, down the Windsor.’

It seemed hard to imagine.

‘Doug’d wander down to Ernie’s, they’d watch telly together.’