The conversation turned to blinds: venetian versus vertical, but all the time, Vicky just looked at me, pissed off.

‘Peter’s been helping Clem,’ Mum said.

Tina said, ‘It’s a miracle Val is still alive. She used to get through a pack a day. I couldn’t believe she still lived there with her sons.’

‘Peter looks after his brother,’ Mum said.

‘He never practised law?’

‘For a time, but apparently he wasn’t very good. I mean, you gotta have a nasty streak to do that job, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You do,’ I said, still looking at Daryl’s girlfriend.

‘Never thought either of them would make good lawyers,’ Tina said.

Then, I saw it. How her lips parted, and something resembling a smile emerged.

‘Vicks was telling me about Daryl,’ I said.

Mum just ignored me and said, ‘I think Val’s worried.’

‘How’s that?’ Tina replied, scraping the crumbs from the greaseproof paper.

‘You know, when she’s gone, what’ll happen to Davo.’

‘As long as Peter outlives him.’

‘Apparently Daryl was smart, and funny,’ I said.

‘Who?’ Mum asked, shitty.

‘Daryl.’

She couldn’t see what this had to do with the Donnellans, and the Donnellans were being discussed, so I should just keep my mouth shut.

‘Daryl,’ I repeated. ‘And, and, he was driving a tractor at eight years of age. When I was still playing with my toys, he was driving a tractor, ploughing stuff.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Mum asked.

‘I was just tellin’ yers. This Daryl (whom you’ve never met, Mrs Rosie) used to go out with Vicky.’

Tina looked at her daughter.

‘Not go out,’ Vicky said.

‘But you told me—’

‘Not go out, Clemmy.’

And that’s how it ended—me, and her, unlikely magnets, repelling and attracting at the same time.

I wasn’t about to buy into it, so I sat in bed and listened. Mum led him into her room, and I heard her say, ‘It was painted about five years ago,’ and he said, ‘Four bedrooms, that’s where the value is. Big families, you know?’

I didn’t get it. Why was she showing him through our house? Earlier, she’d said, ‘I got someone coming to give me a price on the place.’

Pop had said, ‘An agent?’

‘Just a price.’

‘But you don’t get a price unless you’re thinking of selling.’

She’d taken a moment, like that might or might not be true, and Pop had said, ‘I’m not havin’ no one through.’

‘Just for a look-see. I’m curious to know … if we had to.’

‘Why?’

‘If we had to.’

They were in Jen’s room. Mum said, ‘Ignore the colours, and the mess, of course.’

‘Don’t worry, I got my own teenagers.’

Piss off, I wanted to say. Don’t you dare come in here.

‘And this is my son’s room,’ Mum said, showing him in.