‘You are not staying at home unsupervised,’ said Mum. ‘Playing computer games or watching television or listening to music is not, in my book, a punishment.’

Mum isn’t like Grandad. She believes being suspended from school is clear evidence of guilt. Even if it was a case of mistaken identity, if I could prove I was interstate at the time of the alleged crime, she’d still support the school.

‘I’m not happy with you, Rob,’ she said. I chopped up vegetables for dinner. I’d promised to do a vegetarian stir-fry for everyone, though Dad looked slightly less than thrilled at the prospect. ‘So I will drop you round at Grandad’s place first thing in the morning and pick you up after work.’

‘You think Grandad is a punishment then?’ I said.

Mum folded her arms.

‘I don’t know what’s got into you recently,’ she said. ‘I really don’t. You are turning into a smart-alec and I never thought I’d say that. You’re giving me backchat …’

‘I’m not giving you backchat …’

‘See, you’re doing it now. I’ve read about this, when your child becomes a teenager and suddenly they change, become horrible and hateful. But I never thought you’d be like that.’

I wanted to tell her that I thought she was overreacting, but figured this wouldn’t cool the situation down. So I just chopped vegetables while she went on about how shameful it was to have a child suspended from school, how this was the last time it would happen and how maybe she and Dad had been too lenient in their dealings with me. I let her words batter against me because I knew she was hurt and puzzled and worried. But I also wanted to remind her that the shy, retiring, scared Rob Fitzgerald might have been easy to deal with, but was basically miserable. Now, I was gaining confidence – not huge amounts, it had to be said, but some – and I could catch glimpses of the person I might become. That made me feel … happy. But I also needed to remember that Mum might find the journey at least as rocky as me. Maybe rockier. And I should make allowances where I could.

‘So, what do you want to do today?’ said Pop. ‘We could catch a film or maybe go to a pub, get drunk and pick up loose women.’

I’d arrived at the aged-care facility at seven-thirty, but Grandad had been up for two hours anyway, he told me. It comes with age, he’d said. Getting up earlier and earlier and finding your bladder can’t make it for half an hour throughout the night. This was way too much information, but that’s never stopped him before.

‘I have strict instructions, Pop,’ I said. ‘I am to do whatever schoolwork I can. I’m not to play with my phone, watch television or enjoy myself in any way until three forty-five when school’s officially over.’

‘So your mother didn’t actually forbid getting drunk and picking up loose women?’

‘I know what I want to do later, Grandad,’ I said.

‘You want to learn how to play chess,’ he said.

‘Do I?’

‘Yes. You just don’t know it yet. But I’ll teach you how to play and then I’ll kick your sorry backside.’

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘You make it sound so attractive, I couldn’t possibly say no. But I know what I want to do after you’ve taught me chess and after you’ve kicked my sorry backside.’

‘What?’

‘Take Trixie for a walk.’ It was true. I was becoming attached to that fluffy bundle of rubbish and it wasn’t because I wanted to see Destry Camberwick. The dog had attitude, despite there being no reason for it. Maybe I had more in common with it than I’d thought.

‘Blankety hell,’ said Grandad. ‘If anyone was reading a transcript of this conversation they’d never guess who was thirteen years old and who was the old fart.’ He pointed an accusing finger at me. ‘I want to be like you when I grow up.’

*

Grandad taught me chess and then kicked my apologetic rear end. Twice. After that we went in search of the FBR. Agnes was happy to hand Trixie over.

‘I can’t walk the distances I used to,’ she informed me. ‘Don’t ever get old, Rob. That’s my best advice to you.’

‘I certainly don’t intend to,’ said Grandad.

‘You,’ said Agnes, ‘are the most pathetic and childish idiot I’ve ever known. And I used to work in politics,’ she added, ‘so the bar for idiocy has been set exceptionally high.’

‘I think she’s seriously attracted to me,’ said Pop after we’d walked half a kilometre out of the grounds. ‘It’s not surprising. She’s only human.’

‘She certainly hides it well, Pop,’ I said.

‘Don’t be fooled, young Rob. It’s clear she thinks I’m hot. Her insults are a pathetic and frankly transparent camouflage for her true feelings. No. Anyone can see she has a thing for me.’ He sucked on his cheeks for a few moments and I was treated to a brief whistle. ‘Trouble is,’ he added, ‘that thing could be a baseball bat.’

Even though I was in deep trouble with Mum and Dad and had done myself no favours with school, I had the best time that afternoon. Just me and Grandad in the park, trying to control Trixie and laughing. Lots of laughing. Don’t get me wrong. I missed school. I missed hanging out with Andrew. And there was a part of me that felt I maybe should have thought about my protest more clearly, perhaps taken other people’s feelings more into account. Yes, there was some guilt there.

Funnily enough, I didn’t even think about Destry Camberwick until we were back at Grandad’s place. And when I did think about her, my pulse didn’t exactly race. It jogged along at a healthy lick, true, but it didn’t race.