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shuffling towards the gates. They passed the entrance to the grandstand and came to halt outside the ticket window for the ‘Outer’ where the entry charge was cheapest. Wayne dug into the pocket of his ragged jeans, bought the tickets, ushered Luke, CT and Danielle through the turnstiles, then headed for the terraces where they could sit with the sun at their back.
    On the crest of the mound which led down to the seating stood a booth plastered with gaudy signs praising the home team. Everything was on sale, from man-sized teddy bears wearing the team colours to car bumper stickers for fifty cents. Memories of a promise flickered in Luke’s mind and he hesitated briefly in front of the stall, looking towards Wayne. His father returned his gaze and he knew Wayne was sharing his thoughts.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Luke. I don’t have enough for a sweatshirt this time, either. It was the gun, you see. I needed every penny I could lay my hands on. As it is I’ve barely enough left for a few beers.’
    â€˜Too right, Luke,’ volunteered Danielle. ‘I had to lend him the last fifty, or he wouldn’t have that thing locked up in the back of the van.’
    Luke shrugged. The winter was half gone. A sweatshirt wasn’t much use on the beach in thirty degree heat.
    â€˜Look mate, I’m sure to have enough next time we come. No sweat.’ The smile returned to Wayne’s face with such confidence and charm that Luke just had to grin in reply. He would have felt better, though, if those last words of his father’s had not been identical to his promise of four weeks before, right down to calling him ‘mate’.
    Wayne marched on, leaving Danielle and the boys to follow. He led a weaving path between the pockets of spectators which had formed and grown like crystals as more people chose the best vantage point and sank down on rugs and cushions upon the hard concrete. The three stragglers had just caught up with Wayne when he called out to a group of men and women a few metres distant. His greeting was returned by a rowdy cheer and a barrage of friendly insults.
    â€˜Aldo, where you been!’
    â€˜Your shout, Wayne!’
    A moment later they all spied Danielle and Luke and welcomed them in the same way. There was roughly a dozen men and women in the group, each man with an open can of beer at his feet. One of the girls called to Danielle and made a space for her to sit down. They were immediately in conversation, another of the women moving to join them. Luke was left standing for a moment until Wayne decided which of his raucous mates he would sit next to, and then he beckoned for Luke and CT to squeeze in beside him.
    â€˜Hey, Jacko!’ shouted Wayne when he was settled with his feet crossed on the lower step of the terracing. ‘I’ve got a new toy for the trip.’ As he sought out the face of his friend along the line of bodies, a long arm reached down from the row above, handing him a can of beer. Wayne took it with murmured thanks, his fingers automatically finding the ring pull and opening the can with the familiar metallic snap and sigh.
    â€˜Yeah, what did you get then?’ inquired one of the men seated farther along the row. He had to lean forward so that he could see Wayne’s face. The sun bore straight into Luke’s eyes as he strained to be part of the conversation. He recognised the tight woolly hair of his father’s best mate, Jacko, who always seemed to be three days from his last shave, though he never bothered to give up altogether and grow a beard.
    â€˜Winchester thirty-thirty,’ announced Wayne proudly.
    â€˜You’re joking! The lever action job?’
    â€˜Yep.’
    â€˜Hey, guys,’ shouted Jacko to everyone and no one in particular. ‘Wayne here thinks he’s a cowboy. Going to save the wild west from feral pigs —’
    â€˜And anything else that moves,’ interjected a voice to great