‘It was.’ More a he-hasn’t-actually-agreed reply.

‘It’ll add to the … amenity.’

‘I hope.’

Then she came closer, stood behind me, with her arms crossed. ‘What’s this?’

‘Rear view.’

‘Of?’

‘This man, he’s fitting a car seat.’

She took a moment. ‘That’s a funny thing to paint.’

‘I told them to do what they know,’ Nick said.

She moved along, content with Mr Champness. But then she saw the dog and the urine. ‘This one’s a bit off.’

I explained the God—dog reference but she wasn’t interested. ‘I’m trying to hint at a spiritual life. You know, God’s always watching out for us, even when we mow the lawn.’

She studied me like I was stupid, or taking the piss. ‘That’s your belief?’

‘Yes.’ I guessed I could invoke Sunday school if necessary. Then I noticed a small crucifix around her neck. ‘My family … we’re Baptist.’

‘I am not Aeneas, and I am not Paul!’ Curtis said.

‘Sorry?’ asked Miss White.

‘Who thinks me fit? Not others. And not I.’

I glared at him. He always chose his moment.

Miss White turned to Nick and said, ‘Can I have a word?’

They walked around the corner, and we listened. Curtis moved closer, hushed us, and stood listening. A minute, more, and none of us spoke. Then he sprinted back, and Nick returned. He sat on one of the tables, took out a smoke and lit it.

‘Everything okay?’ Curtis asked.

After school, Mum was waiting, and I drove home. ‘Another few weeks and you can do the test,’ she said.

I didn’t reply. It was my way of saying perhaps.

‘Then you can drive Pop around.’

‘Great, that’s why I’m getting my licence?’

‘One of the reasons.’

We pulled onto the main road and someone had to slow so he tooted me, and I gave him the finger. Mum said, ‘Do that and they’ll fail you.’

‘He sped up.’

Of course, if she saw Dad in me, this was further proof of a bad attitude. Maybe he’d done the same thing, taking his unhappy life onto the road every day, abusing a world of agreed-upon rules and common sense. ‘I’m busy with school,’ I said.

‘I don’t see you doing much homework.’

‘I do.’

‘Still, you need to get yer licence.’

I slowed, indicated, and drove around the back streets. There were a couple of kids playing, and apparently I was going too fast, and she said, ‘If you knock one of them over …’

‘I’m not gonna knock anyone over.’

‘You won’t listen to anything anyone … just like yer …’

I glanced at her.

‘Eyes on the road!’

‘Like who?’ I pulled into a driveway, practised a three-point turn, and continued. ‘Like Dad … how?’

‘Gotta have the last word on everything.’

‘I wasn’t gonna knock over—’

‘It’s not the point.’