‘The map? You think—’

‘Everyone’s been stoppin’ me, for fifty years. Now I’m goin’. See, Clem gets it, don’t you? If you just keep talkin’ about things, where’s it get you?’

Mum wasn’t about to be swayed. ‘How were you gonna get there?’

‘The Datsun.’

She laughed. ‘The Datsun? Barely gets us to Woolies.’

‘Nothin’ wrong with it.’

‘I can’t believe you did all this behind my back.’ She glared at me again for good measure.

‘Why not?’ I said.

‘He’s an old man with dementia.’

Like he wasn’t even in the shed. But he was having none of it. ‘So bloody what? I might forget a few things, but I still know what’s happening.’ He went to the cupboard, opened the toolbox, took out his map and shook it in her face. ‘Every detail, down to the closest foot. All we gotta do’s follow it. How hard’s that?’

She grabbed the map from his hand, tore it in half, again, and again. ‘Some piss-pot drew it up as a joke. A joke!’

This was his Torah, his Bible, his life. So I was expecting some sort of reaction. But nothing. He just stood there, watching her make confetti. No anger, frustration, disappointment.

Then she said, ‘I forbid it.’

But he didn’t react to this either, which annoyed her even more.

‘Did you hear me?’

Nothing.

She turned on me again. ‘And you, you’ve got exams coming up. What were you thinking of doing?’

‘Pete’s gonna tutor me.’

Pop sat, lit a smoke, and watched. This pissed Mum off no end. She stood in front of him. ‘You lied.’

‘How?’

She indicated the trailer.

‘Didn’t lie about nothin’. You didn’t ask the right questions.’

‘I forbid it!’ She turned and walked out, saying, ‘Carn, Tina, let’s get this kitchen finished.’

We stood watching Pop. He said, ‘You gotta learn, Clemmy. You can’t trust any of them.’

‘Sorry, Pop.’

‘They’re welded to their mothers. No man can change that.’ He stood, went to the cupboard, fiddled under the tools and pulled out the real map. ‘You learn to work them out.’ He folded it, and placed it in his pocket.

Ernie said, ‘You’ve been told, Doug.’

‘Na, just gotta bring it forward a few days … maybe tomorrow morning?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘You still in?’

‘Too right.’

‘Five o’clock departure. Sleep in yer clothes. Go tell, Pete, eh? And whatever you do, not a word!’

Ern took a moment, thought about it, and smiled. ‘Not a word.’

And was gone.

Pop was left with his smoke, and me, and I said, ‘I screwed that up, eh?’

He shook his head. ‘Na, that’s just what we needed to get us going. No lookin’ back now, eh, Clemmy?’

That night, as I was getting ready for bed, Vicky came to my window and whispered. ‘Sorry.’