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with laughter.
    â€˜No, but wait, Dave. I’ve got to tell you. Jesus Christ!’
    And Carl told his friend what had happened the previous night, leaving out only his sexual debacle. The history was punctuated by Dave’s shouts of laughter. He found Carl irresistably comic. But when Carl came to the will he became quieter.
    â€˜More than a hundred thou. That’s serious money. And how is she?…I mean, sorry, comrade, but how long will she last?’
    â€˜Jesus, Dave, it’s not funny. You should have seen the breakfast she put away this morning. The quack reckons she’s fine, and Christ, Dave, she’s really cracking the whip.’
    â€˜Well, old chap,’ said Dave, laughing again, ‘you’ll just have to cop it, won’t you! Yes, a new Carl from now on, a respectable citizen. Yeah, and back with your missus it looks like.’
    â€˜Oh Dave! Don’t.’
    Carl was desperately trying to change the subject—Dave was no help at all.
    â€˜Anyway, Dave, talking about respectable, what about the video? I never heard of a revolutionary with a National before. And what’s that? A home computer?’
    â€˜Ah well,’ said Dave comfortably, ‘it’s for the kids.’
    Carl looked at him lying back smiling. It’s all right for him!
    A new and terrible thought came to him. Suppose the old bag wants to stay longer? Suppose I have to look after her for years—I’d go mad and that’s that.
    He wrenched his mind away.
    â€˜And how’s the bone yard?’
    Dave worked part-time at the Coburg cemetery.
    Originally he had started there as a joke, but now he thought it was one of the best jobs he had ever had.
    â€˜Great, comrade, you don’t know how beautiful that place is. Lovely old trees, lots of birds, no one on your back. I’m doing a grave this arvo actually. There’s an Italian funeral tomorrow. I’m going down when June comes back.’
    Carl lit a cigarette nervously.
    â€˜Well, I better get back to Mum, I suppose.’ Christ, I couldn’t face June today.
    â€˜No, no, stick around, mate. I want to play you something.’
    Dave got up and fed a cassette into his stereo. He sat back, his arm round the baby, and smiled happily at Carl.
    There was a quick slurry of cymbals, some heavy thumping piano and then, suddenly, an alto sax burst into the room—fast, feverish and beautiful. Carl sat up in amazement.
    â€˜Jesus, that’s Bird ! But it sounds so…’
    â€˜Shush. Listen.’
    The alto danced and span, mocking an awkward trumpet, and finished with a chord sequence so complex that Carl was left floundering behind. Dave stopped the machine.
    â€˜How about that!’
    â€˜It’s so clean, it sounds like it was recorded yesterday. Where did you get it?’
    â€˜There’s this guy in England—he’s remastered a lot of Bird’s old nightclub tapes with digital something. Anyway you can order them, and I got this one yesterday. Isn’t it great? Doesn’t that make you feel better?’
    â€˜Yeah, I guess so, but poor Charlie.’ Carl felt sentimental and melancholy. ‘Live hard, die young.’
    â€˜Jesus, Carl, don’t be such a wimp!’
    â€˜No, it reminds me of work, nightclubs and that…I told you about that Mustafa. You know, the guy who gets me the pills?’
    â€˜Well, what about him?’ Dave said impatiently. ‘He’s pissed off, hasn’t he?’
    â€˜Yeah, but there’s something going on there I don’t know about and it worries me—that Greek prick who runs the place is as sneaky as a shithouse rat. I don’t know, that place scares me.’
    â€˜Now, Carl, you’ll be right. Just take it easy. Listen, if you have any trouble with them just ring, and I’ll be down. And don’t worry about your mother. Just keep on the right side of her and pretty soon she’ll get sick of