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Daniel lay on the floor under the stupid Christmas tree. It wasn't actually a tree, he thought. Not a baby pine tree like in the cartoons. It was more likely a branch of a larger tree. It wasn't even that heavy. But unwieldy. He laughed, under the tree, vaguely aware of an ironic, symbolic thing here. It would not beat him. He sobbed. Twice, before he reminded himself it was only a Christmas tree that needed putting up.

Daniel opened his eyes. Frances was in her pyjamas holding her Banana doll. She was looking down at him through a tree, studying him from on high.

Daniel said, ‘What time is it?'

‘Christmas time.'

He smiled. Fair enough. He slithered out from under the tree. He hadn't gotten it up.

Frances said, ‘Haggis got deaded.'

Daniel got up and patted her on the shoulder.

She said, ‘The Grumpy Man did it.'

Daniel looked at his watch. Sheridan. ‘Shit. The meeting!'

He had no time to shower, but changed into clean clothes. He grabbed his battery razor and his briefcase and headed for the door. ‘I'm off,' he yelled to the laundry where the machine was on.

He threw his briefcase into the ute and zapped the roller door. He started the car and his razor at the same time, running it over his chin as he put the car in reverse. He headed out and looked in the rear-view mirror. Bike. He slammed on the brakes but heard the crunch.

A cry? Daniel turned the motor off and ran to the back of the ute, seeing the broken front wheel under and Sam laying on the grass. Sam turned, scared.

Daniel's feet were stuck to the driveway.

Sam looked from the bike to his father.

‘For Christ's sake, Sam. How many bloody times have I told you not to play in the driveway?'

‘I'm sorry.'

Daniel stepped towards him, his anger rising with the relief.

Helen ran from the back, reaching Sam first. She dived down to him, hugging him up to her. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I was fixing it.' He started crying.

The two of them were locked together in a hug, Sam bawling.

Daniel said, ‘I didn't see him.'

Frances was at the back gate but wouldn't leave the backyard. She just looked.

Hosey from next door was craning around the gap in the fence.

Daniel grabbed the bike and dragged it from under the ute. ‘I've got this meeting, but I'll come straight back, okay. I'll fix this.'

Helen turned and looked at him. She wasn't angry. It was another thing. Her look was strange.

Daniel said, ‘I'll come straight back from the meeting and I'll explain everything, Helen. That's a promise. Okay. I'll sort the bike out, matey. I ... That's a promise.'

The look Helen had was spooky. Daniel didn't know what it meant.

‘The meeting,' said Daniel and he got into his car.

The meeting was on an office floor Sheridan had hired for their visit. By the time Daniel found his way to the conference room, Brian had clearly been at it for a while. Charts were on boards and papers were spread before Osaka, McClusky, Johnson and a woman in a power suit.

They looked up at him, annoyance and smiles turning into narrowed eyes that Daniel tried to avoid. ‘I'm sorry I'm late. I...'

‘I've explained you were needed on site, Daniel,' Brian said, curtly.

Daniel settled in one of the high-backed leather chairs and
concentrated on not rolling the thing back and forwards.

Brian said, ‘Well, gentlemen, I hope that brings you up to date. The city site is virtually complete. Rockingham to get fully under way on January second.'

Silence. Daniel thought the information was to catch him up. They'd moved up the Rockingham date by a week. He nodded again. Still the silence. Everyone was looking at him. He felt his chin, where he'd missed a bit during his driving shave. Little scabs from the Christmas tree. Maybe he should explain the humour of it all. Instead, he nodded again.

Brian said, ‘Any questions?'

McClusky looked to Osaka who nodded and McClusky said, ‘Is Hearth & Home filing for bankruptcy?'

‘That's a damn lie,' said Daniel. He was standing. Brian was tugging at his arm. Daniel shook him off. ‘We are not bankrupt. Nor have we ever been. The bank has it wrong.'

Daniel turned to get Brian's support but he was looking at the table. He looked back to Osaka, who wasn't looking back either. He turned to McClusky. ‘Who told you that?'

They didn't say anything.

Daniel said, ‘Was it Amis Blyte? See, I know the name. I'm on the trail of whoever is setting us up and I'll put a stop to it. And that's a promise.'

Brian started gathering up his papers.

‘Did he phone you? All I need is a contact number. Anything you can give me.'

McClusky turned to look at Osaka. He would not look at Daniel. He looked sad.

Daniel said, ‘It's not true,' perhaps too quietly.

Only Johnson stayed for a handshake. The others left with curt nods.

In the underground car park Daniel tried to hit Brian with ideas but he didn't respond. ‘I'll go see the bank, Brian. I'll go over Bradley's head. Threaten to sue the bastards if they don't reverse their decision. I'll get them to put out something to Osaka. Big apology, so we don't even miss a beat. You don't think it was Osaka that sent Blyte?'

‘So we can't finish their hotels for them and cost them thousands of dollars?'

‘I'll go back up and offer the old hotel. See if that was it?'

‘It's over, Daniel.'

Daniel staggered before following Brian to his car. ‘You can't give up like that, mate. We have to save the business.'

‘It's gone. I have a wedding tomorrow. Then it's Christmas Eve and then Christmas. On Boxing Day I'll beg Rosemarie to let me watch the cricket even though I will technically be on my honeymoon. When I come back, I'll get a job.'

‘You can't quit.'

‘It's quit, Daniel. The bank. The economy. Sheridan. And you.'

‘You shouldn't have worried Helen with all this.'

Brian shook his head. He got into his car and drove away.

Two weeks before, Daniel had a thriving business, a happy family and a friend's wedding. It seemed impossible that it could go so quickly to nothing. He wondered whether Brian might have done something desperate in order to pick up Hearth & Home for a bargain price. Or maybe make quick money. Was there more to him visiting Helen? Was there a deal in the room upstairs before he'd arrived?

Daniel was metres away from his ute when the four uniformed police stepped out from their hiding places. Two had their tasers drawn. One said, ‘Danilo Longo?'

They took him to a hospital in a paddy-wagon that smelled of disinfectant. Orderlies in t-shirts and black pants stood alert, like athletes waiting for the whistle to blow. A nurse took papers at reception.

Daniel kept trying to reason with them. ‘If I'm not under arrest, you've got no right to hold me.'

‘We do, Danilo. Under section thirty of the Mental Health Act.'

‘Mental health?'

A young Indian orderly, not much older than the apprentice Nadif, said, ‘It's okay man, it's just some tests.'

‘Just go with Aziz, Mr Longo.'

The orderlies stepped forward which made Daniel back away.

‘You can't grab someone off the streets, no matter what section you've got.'

‘Calm down,' said the older orderly.

‘No one's taking me anywhere.'

They reached for him and he slapped their hands away. ‘Wait a minute.' A cop hit him from the side and another pushed him. They grabbed his wrist and twisted it in a way that forced Daniel face down onto the dirty lino floor. Daniel tried to wriggle out from under the cops.

One of them said in his ear. ‘You quieten down now. We don't grab people from the street for no reason. Your wife signed you in here. And she's bloody right, if you ask me.'

Teddy had friends. The crematorium is full. Amis stands at the back. Sharon and Trent sit near the front. There's Teddy. Teddy's box anyway, with a framed photo of the man, smiling confidently. On the conveyor belt ready for the fire. No open casket for this one.

An old minister, portly, balding. Church of England collar, possibly dandruff flecked. ‘A man does not take his own life. The vicissitudes of life can wear slowly. We are frail. People can break. Although I knew Teddy only slightly, it seems to me that he was broken.' Dandruff takes a theatrical breath. Bows his head.

A little nativity scene by the door. Little doll wise men with little toy camels. They have farm yard animal toys gathered round the tiny baby in the manger. Wee wee baby toy things.

Sharon's head is bowed.

Dandruff starts up again. ‘Some of us do seem stronger than others. But we are all weak. None of us is strong enough. On our own.'

Amis turns Teddy's gold lighter in his pocket. Thinks he might have to go back to Hearth & Home. Get a keepsake from Danny boy.

‘On our own, we may try, but we fail. God knew this. God knows our frailty. The trials life puts before us. That's why He sent His son.'

Time to go. The advertisements have started. Teddy's brother
looks at his notes. Ready for Edward Borthwick's life story. The organist plays ‘Abide with Me'. Amis rests his hand on the nativity scene. Plucks the baby Jesus from the manger like a grape.

Taking down Daniel's business had been easy. Easier than Teddy's. Young bull ripe for cutting from the herd. But the coup de grâce was the committal. The signed letter from Helen, fearful wife of. His father was the gift. The spark of the idea. The JP in his pyjamas. Amis in weak-arse home-knitted jumper, earnest and sleepless, ‘She doesn't want to be seen to betray him in his fragile state. My brother has been under strain. Has done things. Our father committed ... committed – ended his own life. We merely want him to be looked at by the doctors. It's an emergency, your Honour.' That smug look. ‘I'm not a judge.' Too right, you're not.

The paperweight? He recalls a paperweight in Daniel's office shaped like a fireplace. A wonky amateur thing full of cute. One of the wife's drawings? Yes. A Helen sketch. Amis smiles at that thought. Would Danilo ever trust her again?

They are coming out of the crematorium. Not many dark suits. Mostly office clothes. Kids in their dancing gear. Amis waits amidst the roses and low hedges lining the walks, brass plates on the ground next to every plant.

‘Dad!' Trent smiles. Good boy.

Sharon stops on the path, her arms folding, her hands scratching at the other arm in her nervous way.

Amis forward. Hand on her shoulder, feeling her collarbone. ‘My thoughts are with you in your time of need. Anything I can do?'

She doesn't look at him. She knows.

Amis turns to Trent. Flicks a casino chip up in the air. Trent catches it. Turns it, not understanding what it is or where it came from.

Amis whispers to Sharon, ‘You make me hornier than hell when I see you dressed in black, Shaz.'

Trent. ‘Another man came to our house, Dad.'

‘Another man?'

‘No, I didn't, Amis. I didn't.' She's looking at him now.

Trent. ‘He was looking for you. He wanted your address.'

‘I didn't tell him anything. I didn't even open the door.'

Amis knows she's telling the truth. He puts his arm around her shoulders. She quakes ever so slightly. ‘Who was it, Shaz?'

‘I don't know. We didn't open the door. Trent, tell him.'

Trent smiles. She's stupid. He says, ‘His name was Daniel.'

‘When?'

‘Yesterday.'

‘Amis, you're hurting.'

He's squeezing her. He loosens his grip. Daniel. He opens his free arm to Trent who steps in, unsure. Amis hugs them both to him, letting them feel his strength.

Daniel underestimated. Loose ends now. ‘It was my fault. I got too cute. He won't bother you again.' He steps back. ‘I got to take a raincheck on our reunion.'

He parks up the street in the white Statesman and waits for them to come home from swimming lessons. The thing is on the back seat. Perhaps Helen will wear the loose dress again. Bright African colours. A kind of billowing thing that makes you think about what's under there. Maybe a cheesecloth thing that lets you see the smudge of the bikinis.

The Volvo comes late.

Amis walks up the drive unseen and stands to the side of the garage door, cradling the thing.

Helen in mother mode. ‘If you don't start knuckling under, Mister, you are going to spend the holidays in your bedroom.'

Rustling plastic bags. Silence. Good boy.

‘Why did we have to put things back?' The little spitfire. Amis's favourite.

‘Because we didn't have enough money.' Helen.

‘Cos our credit cards bounced.' The boy, bitter?

Amis steps around.

Helen has bags of shopping. She turns and drops a bag, spilling packets of chips and cheeses.

‘Sorry, Helen. Didn't mean to scare you.' Big smile. He holds up the thing and it wriggles.

Helen bends to pick up the bags. Thigh-hugging skirt. Loose blouse with buttons undone.

‘Let me help you with those.' He hugs the wriggling puppy to his chest one-handed and bends to pick up food items. Party food.

Samuel stands at a plaster-of-Paris object on the bench. He's watching the dog. Frances glares, still in the car. Helen is flustered, trying to gather things. Her knees point at him from her skirt. Amis puts a plastic container of pate into Helen's bag and catches sight of flesh above her bra. She looks up catching him look away. She's standing. The tight skirt is better than the loose dress. She's embarrassed.

Amis up too. ‘I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here.'

‘I do assume you don't wander the neighbourhood doing good deeds, Mr, ah ... Armstrong.' Getting it back together. Taking charge.