Applause, and I lingered, and White came over and held my shoulder and said, ‘We might see you in print soon.’

I stood, consumed by the eyes, and then sniffed the air. Something was burning. A door opened and one of the groundsmen ran in: ‘The art room!’

Classic schoolboy error. One thousand kids stood, screamed, and ran, and the little ones were almost crushed. Hundreds of Kennys and Narelles running for a squiz, as sirens wailed in the distance, and Curtis came up behind me. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The art room. Let’s go.’

We made our way across the school and settled on our shady mound. As the first unit arrived I said, ‘What did you think?’

‘Of what?’

‘My performance?’

Now, the fire had burned down. Unfortunately, it hadn’t spread, so the party was over. The school drifted away, to the oval, canteen, ignoring the bell and reclaiming lost recess. A few kids were already arriving for art, looking at the firemen and asking what to do. ‘That’s so fucking pathetic,’ Curtis said.

Round the block with Davo, pushing his chair over tree roots and lifted driveways. Peter, walking a few steps behind, carrying my notes, asked, ‘March 1949?’

I had to think. ‘The Elysée Accords?’

There was another car stripper in his driveway, wiping grease on his singlet. He said, ‘How are yer, gents?’ and Peter replied, ‘Good, you?’

‘It’s a pity,’ Davo managed.

‘What’s that?’ his brother asked.

‘Doug. What’s he gonna do now?’

‘Went to the pub with Ern the other night,’ I said. ‘First time in years.’

‘He should get back to fixin’ cars.’

‘We tell him, but he’s lined up at midday for the movie.’

A regular, but depressing sight. With his Coke and chips, saying, ‘This one looks okay. She murders her husband.’

‘April 1954?’

‘Nixon says America should send troops?’

‘Nice work. We’re ready to try a practice essay.’

‘I guess.’

‘Maybe you shoulda made him continue?’ Dave said, as I pushed hard to get him out of a crack.

‘We tried,’ I said. ‘Didn’t we, Pete?’

‘He was determined.’

As we described the trip towards Coober Pedy. Pete saying, ‘What’s happened, Doug?’

Nothing.

‘I reckon we oughta keep going.’

‘I don’t, and it’s my trip.’

Then I’d had a go. ‘Come on, Pop, what’s there to go home to?’

‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’

‘So we get home, switch on the telly, that’s it?’ Ernie had asked.

‘Do what you want.’

‘But you said—’

‘Do what you want! I’m not responsible for you, Ernie.’

Who’d said, ‘That’s not the point. We been planning this for months. We believed what you said, Doug, and now, in the middle of nowhere, you change your mind and don’t even think it worth telling us why.’

Dave was listening carefully. ‘I never could work Doug out.’

‘What?’ Peter asked.