‘How’s that?’

His falsies clunked again, slipped, fell, and he caught the uppers in his hand and replaced them. ‘You been thinking about our friend?’

‘Who?’

‘Lasseter.’ He sat back against the iron. ‘We gotta stay focused. I don’t want it interfering with your studies. I was thinking the school holidays.’

‘I guess.’

‘When we get this one fixed we’ll have some cash, then we can buy supplies.’ He put down his roll and unlit smoke and went to the corner. Produced a crowbar, shovel, spade, and a pick. ‘All ready to go.’

I noticed they were new.

Returning, he said, ‘Metal detector, that’s what we need.’

‘How much?’

‘I need to make a few phone calls, do a bita research. Main thing is, you’re still with me?’

‘Of course.’

‘We can’t give up now. People might laugh, but I haven’t told the full story.’

I waited.

‘It was verified,’ he whispered.

‘How’s that?’

‘After I got the map I contacted this fella at the university and he said bring it in. So I went in and he examined it and said, Doug, I reckon you’re onto something.’

‘How did he know?’

‘He knew. I went home and told Nan, and said, You can choose to believe me or not. But before that, I want you to come and meet this fella. So, she gets dressed up and we go back and he tells her it’s not a fake. It’s at least a hundred years old—the age when the reef was meant to be discovered.’

‘And?’

‘She tells me I’d believe anything. Then I knew I was on my own, and I have been, all these years. Which is why you gotta promise to help me, Clem.’

‘Of course.’

He stood, walked around the engine and said, ‘I know someone’ll get me a good price.’

‘I’ll drive,’ I said.

He returned and sat down. ‘Hurry up and get your licence. It’s been a long wait. One time yer dad promised to help.’

‘When was that?’

‘Before he …’ He thought about it. Obviously, some sort of memo had gone around the street.

‘He promised to help?’

‘He had a Holden, before your time, and he said, Doug, I’ll go, as long as you promise, seventy—thirty split.’

‘You agreed?’

‘Course I agreed. But then things went pear-shaped.’

‘Pear-shaped?’

He must have remembered. ‘Doesn’t matter. As long as you’re still—’

‘It does matter.’

‘Just be grateful he …’ His head dropped; he lit his smoke.

‘Pop?’

‘Need the throne.’ He stood, and made his way back to the house.

Missed, again. I walked over to the Datsun wall and studied the Fairlady, the Roadster. Ghost cars that no one talked about.

March