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‘You're an evil person. I think I told Mum that.'

‘Often. So?'

‘Frances starts kindy next year. Samuel's got school. Daniel works twelve hours a day and he's part of the secret society of the Cosa Nostra.' She shrugged, feeling foolish.

Leonie shrugged too, giving just a touch of her patronising ‘poor you' look.

‘I look around our street. During the day there's no one there. The postman's motorbike is a highlight. I ... I'm going to turn into the woman with the huge spotless house – the heart and soul of the school canteen.'

‘No you won't. You're not her.'

‘I'm getting there.'

‘Helen, save dolphins or defend a forest or ... Get a job, girl. It's time.'

Helen said, ‘His father.'

Leonie nodded seriously. She knew Daniel's father had committed suicide. That he'd hung himself one night at the old hotel. It was a couple of years before Helen had met Daniel, but she'd had to share with someone when Daniel told her the secret and she'd told Leonie.

‘He's nothing like his father, Helen. I'm sure of that.'

‘He's so determined to be – not like that. He won't relax. He ... There's stuff. Anyway, it's cool. All good. Just bumpy before Christmas and all.' She shrugged but made a more convincing smile.

Leonie hugged her and Helen was relieved to be able to hide her face. She knew it would be a betrayal to explain that she could put up with everything except that Daniel wouldn't talk to her anymore. She'd lost her best friend and she found it lonely. She couldn't say that to her sister because she'd only then said it to herself and she hoped it wasn't true.

It was a run-down weatherboard with a battered surf ski lying on the lawn next to the blue Land Cruiser.

Daniel took off the sling and left it in this car. The bandage on his shoulder didn't allow much movement, but he didn't want to look too wounded.

He knocked on the door avoiding the cracked glass panel. He knocked again, rattling the glass until the door was opened by a weedy young man with stubble and a sleeve of green and red tattoos. Music belted out. The Steve Miller Band.

Daniel stepped back and opened his arms. ‘Well?'

The man squinted.

Daniel could smell dope.

He said, ‘Here I am.'

The man stood in board shorts and a Bintang singlet, blinking.

Daniel said, ‘You want to tell me what this is all about.'

‘Do I know you?' he asked with a strong Kiwi accent.

‘I don't know. Do I know you?'

Daniel tried to fold his arms in a demanding way but the bandage got in the way and the Kiwi shook his head and started to turn away.

Daniel stepped in and pushed him up against the wall inside the
door, his good hand on his throat. ‘Why are you doing this? Who do you work for?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.' He looked scared. He looked truthful.

‘I've seen your car. At my factory. Outside my fucking house.'

‘I only just bought it. I swear, bro.'

Daniel eased back.

Another voice said, ‘What the fuck, eh?'

Daniel turned to see a big Maori coming out of the kitchen. He turned back to the Kiwi. ‘Where from?'

Before he could answer, Daniel was punched in the side of his face. It knocked him to the floor.

The Kiwi was saying, ‘I dunno. Never saw him before, eh.'

The Maori was looking down. He had rugby shorts on. He seemed to be deciding whether to punt Daniel.

Daniel felt his cheek. It didn't feel broken. He said, ‘Who'd you buy the car from?'

‘It's not stolen,' said the Maori.

‘Who?'

‘Fuck you,' said the Maori shaping up, loosely.

Daniel started to get up but had to struggle as he could only use one arm. He got onto his knees. Knew he was an easy target. He looked at them both and let them see that he knew it.

The Kiwi said, ‘Who cares. Custom Motors, Skip. Tell 'em we sent you, eh.'

There was a white car parked on the street a few doors up from the house. Helen took note because it was uncommon in Homely Chase. She wondered if it had anything to do with Daniel.

Frances said, ‘Mum, why's Haggis sleeping on the road?'

Helen saw the shape and turned into their driveway, clicking open the garage doors. The side gate was open.

‘What? Where's Haggis?' said Samuel. He had been reading.

‘On the road,' said Frances.

Helen didn't let them go out the front. She hustled them through the yard door of the garage and into the house.

Samuel ran through the kitchen and into the lounge room.

Helen yelled, ‘Sam!'

‘I'm seeing out the window.'

Frances stood at the door to the hall, unwilling to follow her brother past this threshhold, but knowing something pretty big was happening.

Helen put the kids' towels on the bench and said, ‘Go get
Bananas in Pyjamas
from your room, darling, and I'll get us lunch.'

Helen waited for her to go up the stairs before dialing Daniel. His mobile was off. She called the factory.

‘Hearth & Home.'

‘Chantel. Can I talk to Daniel?'

‘On his mobile, Mrs Longo. How's getting the shower going?' Bright and bubbly and not a care in the world.

‘What? Oh. Lot to do.' Helen needed Daniel to take care of this while she distracted the kids.

Chantel said, ‘Is Dan going ... um, is Mr Longo going to a bucks' night?'

‘I suppose so. Thanks Chantel.'

The girl wore very short skirts and had a barely disguised infatuation for Daniel. Helen was never worried, but it did get wearing, pretending not to notice.

Helen tried Daniel's mobile again. It was still off. She went to the lounge. Samuel stood in the bay window where the Christmas tree needed to go.

‘Samuel, I need you to be brave.'

‘I am.' He said it matter of factly. He was.

‘Look after your sister and don't come out, okay?'

‘What are you going to do?'

Helen didn't answer. She got a jumbo garbage bag and took it out the front. She was sure she'd latched the gate. Blood came from Haggis's nose and from one ear. She bent to touch him. She prodded his side. It felt harder than usual. He was dead. She needed a shovel to slide him in so she didn't have to touch him again.

‘Your dog?' A man was coming along the road.

‘Yes. I thought our gate was locked.'

‘Damn shame. For the kids.'

Helen looked at him and he indicated the house. She turned to see Samuel and Frances in the window. She motioned for them to go.

‘You want a hand?'

‘Oh, no, I can manage.'

He bent, ignoring her. ‘No problem. It's this sort of job we men come in handy for. Come on fella.' He hefted Haggis, a little roughly by the hind legs and swung him upside down towards the garbage bag. Helen looked away, as she felt Haggis's weight in the bag. Then he took it.

‘Where do you want him?' He had the garbage bag held out in both hands.

He had a suit on but no tie. A close-cropped beard. He gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. That sounded callous. My son has a dog, you see. Feel like I know this one. I was making house calls, when I saw you come out.' He pointed to the white car parked down the street.

She nodded and led him towards the back. She'd need to bury Haggis perhaps, for the kids.

‘Round the back?'

‘Thank you, Mr...?'

‘Armstrong. Charles Armstrong.'

‘My maiden name was Armstrong.'

‘What a coincidence. Maybe we're long-lost cousins.'

She stopped at the gate, to let him through first. He smiled oddly, but when Helen looked closely, he turned to look down the drive. ‘Looks like you need a new side fence.'

Daniel took his briefcase into the sales yard trying to look jaunty and uninjured as he walked.

A salesman stepped up with a bright, ‘Looking for anything in particular, sir?'

‘Window-shopping, mate.' Daniel took a couple more steps, but called back, ‘But if I see something I like...?'

‘Pete. I'm Peter. I'll see you right.'

Daniel nodded and wandered into the office. He stood near the counter as an older woman put down the phone. ‘Can I help you?'

‘Pete sent me in.'

She nodded, neutral.

Daniel said, ‘I bought a blue Land Cruiser this morning.'

She began to shake her head, sensing a complaint. ‘You'd have to see the salesperson...'

‘No, nothing like that. Great car.' Daniel smiled. ‘I found a whole pile of fishing lures and tackle in the spare wheel well. Thought I'd drop them back to the previous owner. Ask how she handles off-road.'

Daniel smiled.

The lady nodded, hitting computer buttons. ‘This morning? It might not be entered yet. I always have to chase them up to do the computer things.'

Daniel watched her find the car and get happy. But she had second thoughts. She looked up and stared at the swelling on Daniel's cheek. She took in the bandaged arm. She said, ‘I better check with the sales manager. I'm sure he'll say it's fine, but...' She shrugged, but wasn't really apologising for playing it safe.

Daniel nodded. Sure. Not a worry.

The lady went towards the back offices and Daniel stepped around the counter to look at the name and address on the PDF copy of the sales document.

Mr Amstrong had his coat off but wasn't sweating in spite of the spade work. He patted the mound under the jacaranda tree and stood to look at Samuel then Frances and finally to Helen before clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head.

‘Dear God, take Haggis into heaven. Let him run around in green fields, where there aren't any cars.'

Samuel nodded but Frances stared at the man distrustfully.

He said, with no hint of a patronising tone, ‘Look after Haggis, because he is the best dog in the world and we will miss him. Amen.'

‘Amen,' said Samuel, solemnly.

‘Thank you, Mr Armstrong. You've been very kind.'

‘I know what it's like to lose a ... If you don't mind, Helen, I should wash up and get back to work.'

‘Oh, yes. This way.'

The kids stayed by the grave as Helen led him towards the house. It was clear he'd lost someone and it seemed recent by the way he'd shaken the thought off.

‘What do you do, for a living, Mr Armstrong?'

‘Please, Helen, call me Charles.'

She nodded. She must have told him her name earlier. ‘In through here.' She pointed to the laundry.

‘I sell insurance and superannuation.' He must have seen her look because he laughed and added, ‘It's all right, Helen. I'll spare you any sales pitches today.' He started washing his hands and Helen turned away to think about lunch. She should try Daniel again. The kids were heading in.

He called something but Helen couldn't quite hear it so she went back to the laundry door. ‘Could I have a glass of water please?' He'd left the toilet door open. He was urinating.

Helen suppressed a gasp and backed into the kitchen. She went to the fridge and opened it towards the kids. ‘Okay, so ... who's hungry?'

‘Beautiful,' he said and Helen swung around. She felt uncomfortable, suddenly.

Armstrong was looking up the hall and around the kitchen. He said, ‘You have a beautiful home. You must be proud.'

Proud? Helen put a plate of polony and salad on the table. Helen remembered the water and got a glass from the cupboard. He was between her and the ice water slot in the fridge. ‘Thank you, Mr Armstrong, for all your help.'

He smiled, but moved towards the dining table where Samuel had sat. ‘You folks having a party?' He looked at the glasses and plates Helen had stacked, ready.

‘It's called a shower,' said Samuel.

‘A friend of Daniel's, my husband's work partner.' Helen was surprised at all the information she'd volunteered. Perhaps she felt he needed reminding that she was married. She poured the water.

‘These are good.'

He lifted the pages of sketches she'd been doing for the old hotel. Furnishings and ideas for colours.

Samuel started picking at the food on his plate. Frances stood by the back door, neither in nor out. She was glaring at the man.

Helen wanted him out too now, unsure why. She took him the water, looking for polite words which would send him away.

‘You're very talented. Ah, thanks.' He looked at her, too long, but suddenly said, ‘I better get back to work. Sorry. I so miss the feel of a happy family.' He picked up his clipboard from the bench. He'd been carrying it earlier. He must have put it down. He was going.

‘Oh, could you do me a favour?'

‘What?'

He opened up the clipboard. ‘My supervisor. He sometimes checks that I'm seeing clients. A bit like those call centres where they say it might be recorded. I get signatures to confirm I've been.'

He pulled out a silver pen. He was advancing on her again. ‘I've been here, you see. A small white lie that I've been trying to sell you insurance?'

‘Is it really necessary?' She found herself backed against the counter.

‘I can really try to sell you. Big house. Worth insuring.' He winked. Smiled. ‘Here and I'm out of your hair.'

She took his pen and signed the thing.

He looked up at Frances and said, ‘Boo.'

She didn't see the joke.

Helen tried to give him back the file.

He said, ‘Oh, um, sorry. Can you date it?'

It was a brick and tile with heavy security screens, automatic lights in the drive and out the front. Daniel knocked again. He thought he could hear a television inside.

‘Who is it?' A woman's voice, very timid.

‘Ah, is Amis home?'