I waited. ‘It’s not.’

‘Not a word?’

‘No.’

‘The company he worked for went broke, and he lost his job. Your mother said he stole from them and they sacked him, but he told me that wasn’t the case. Then he couldn’t find work. Sat at home, days on end. He got frustrated and you’d hear him shouting. David and Peter went in a few times but …’

She didn’t seem to want to continue. ‘It’s not my place to tell you.’

‘I know, but it’d be good if you did.’

‘I think things were tough, money-wise, and your dad had some mates, and they’d always be over, and he’d be off with them till all hours. Then came the police …’

Now it seemed clear.

‘He was locked up for a while, but came home, then there was more shouting and we’d sit here and worry about your mum and you kids. Can you imagine?’

‘I guess.’

‘The one good thing your mum did, with a bita help from Doug, was tell him to leave. And when he came back she got a court order to keep him away. And one day, when she tells you that, you gotta thank her. She wanted you and Jen safe, so she got rid of him, and it wasn’t an easy thing for her to do.’

‘I guess.’

‘Him out the front at four in the morning, throwing bottles on yer roof, until Doug went out and shouted at him. You can’t remember, but one day she’ll tell you, and you gotta say thanks, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Cos that …’ But she stopped, like she’d run out of batteries. ‘You’re not upset?’

‘I guessed it must’ve been something like that. For mum to hide the photos.’

‘Now you understand why.’

‘I suppose. But she coulda told me. I woulda been okay.’

‘You were just a kid. Still are.’

I went home. Past the open door, Peter asleep beside his brother. Down the drive, stopping to search our roof for broken glass. I went into the shed and took down the handlebars, but they told me no more than Val. My dad was a sort of John Burrell, and maybe Pop was trying to help him, still.

I knocked on Ernie’s door. ‘Mr Sharpe?’ And a muffled voice. ‘Get that, will yer?’ Mrs Sharpe replying, ‘I’m on the toilet.’ Then silence, as every man and woman stood and shat his ground. Then Ernie called, ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me, Clem.’

Silence, again.

‘Mum reckons you got a net?’

Ernie and Ida, still communicating (just) after forty years. Ernie didn’t seem to care about what he did, wore or said. He’d smoked his life down to the butt. Once, Mum had said to Ida, I’ve got a few tickets to a nice restaurant, and Ida had asked Ernie, and of course he’d said no. Mum had told him you had to keep working at a relationship, and he’d said something like, Within limits, invoking a coal mine that had been worked clean. Ida had cried (I heard) and told Ernie she hated him and he’d said he couldn’t give a shit, and that’d ended that.