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laughter.
    A thought occurred to Jacko. ‘This is not just Wayne, fellas. This is John Wayne Aldridge.’
    Everyone laughed.
    â€˜Armalite Aldridge, you mean.’
    More laughter.
    This gave the stage to Wayne, who regaled the entire gathering with the tale of how he had acquired the gun. He told the story in more detail than he had in the back of the van.
    â€˜I saw the ad in this morning’s paper, see. But the price seemed ridiculous, so I rang up just to make sure. ‘Yes,’ says the bloke. ‘The newspaper was correct.’ Well, I knew the bargain wouldn’t last long once a few others saw it, and there wasn’t time to sell my old gun to get the cash I needed, so I flew down to the autoteller and grabbed every penny I had. Danny lent me the rest. I shot over to this old codger’s place and there it is, perfect condition.
    â€˜Why do you want to sell it?’ I asked. Poor bloke. His face goes all white and I swear he was just about in tears. Then he tells me that he had an accident with the gun, shot his own dog.’
    Wayne roared with laughter at this and the others joined him.
    â€˜Anyway, he loved the dog so much, he couldn’t bear to have the weapon that killed it in his house one more day, and he just about begs me to take it. I tell you, I could have offered to take it for nothing and he would have agreed. He just wanted it out of his sight.’ Wayne laughed again at the memory.
    When he revealed the price, a couple of men who were listening more intently than the others gasped and began to cry Wayne down, calling him a liar and a cheat, all in good fun.
    â€˜Sounds like you got diddled at that price,’ said Jacko, a wicked, cheeky grin covering his face. ‘I’ll take it off your hands for the same money, just because I’m your mate. Can’t be fairer than that.’
    â€˜Get lost, Jacko. Call yourself a mate!’ replied Wayne with a grin to match. ‘D’you hear that, Luke?’ He turned to Luke in mock complaint. I unearth the best deal in town and he wants to muscle in on it.’
    Luke filled his face with an equal portion of mock contempt and said nothing. He knew that he was being used as the wall off which his father bounced his playful remarks. This was often the way and he loved every moment of it.
    â€˜If you beg a little, Jacko, I’ll let you shoot a few trees with it when we go out west. That’s about all you could hit last time we went.’
    Jacko was about to reply to this insult with a barrage of his own, when a more pressing problem crossed his mind. ‘Speaking of going out west, you all set for tomorrow night? You were havin’ a bit o’ trouble getting the time off wasn’t you.’
    â€˜Yeh, but it’s no problem.’
    The two men sitting directly behind Wayne leaned forward to be part of the conversation. They’d been the two most interested in the story of Wayne’s bargain buy.
    â€˜If you need to change the date I can go any time. My partner just takes over,’ one of the men said. Luke knew the voice. This was Dave, who painted houses for a living. His hands were always faintly streaked with white paint. Luke wondered if he specialised in white — or maybe white was more difficult to remove from the skin.
    â€˜Well, any time suits me,’ remarked the man next to Dave.
    The others turned on him immediately and began to cackle. Dave grabbed his upper arm and gently shoved him backwards. Above the friendly derision Jacko shouted, ‘Yeah. And we all know why that is, don’t we, Doggy. The unemployed are always on holiday.’
    The man they called ‘Doggy’ sat up again smiling, happily swatting aside the jeers and faked punches directed at him. His real name was Kieran Doggitt, and he revelled in the nickname ‘Doggy’, which he’d acquired in his schooldays: days shared with Dave and Wayne Aldridge and later with Jacko.