I rolled over and he kneaded his hands up and down my biceps and triceps. This was the worst part, the most painful.

'Shoulder's starting to loosen. Might be able to get on some light dumbbells soon. Nothing too heavy. Been to see Mum lately?'

The question caught me off guard, just as it was meant to.

'Ah, not since Christmas.'

'Since Chrissy?' Anthony whistled. 'Been four times this year, I have. It's only a two-hour drive, mate. It wouldn't kill you to visit occasionally.'

'I'm going on Sunday,' I said.

'You should. She misses you.'

'How d'you know that? She can't even talk.'

Anthony pushed me back down on the bed, face first. I didn't resist because I deserved it.

'She's our mother. Of course she misses you. It's a stroke, Rubes. s.h.i.t, it's not Alzheimer's. She knows what's going on.'

I said nothing. He was right.

'She was there for you, remember? All of us were. Lot of time waiting in the hospital. It's not right if you don't go. Disrespectful.'

I let my body go limp and welcomed the pain. Mum's stroke had happened last spring and I could probably count on one hand the number of times I'd visited since. My beautiful mother, the matriarch of our family, reduced to a vegetable.

'Roll over. On your back.'

I did as instructed and stared at a framed photo of my brother's family on a desk in the corner. Son, daughter, wife. Perfect nuclear family. It reminded me of the photo I'd looked at in my lounge earlier in the day. Perfect camping trip.

'Don't forget Jonathan's birthday tomorrow,' Anthony said. 'Spit roast. DJ in the garage, the works. You're still coming, I a.s.sume?'

I had the invitation on my fridge, but had forgotten all about it and suddenly hoped I hadn't double-booked.

'I've put in for a night off. Hopefully I'll be there.'

'Come on, Rubes. He's turning eighteen, mate.' Fingers pressed painfully into my left shoulder. 'Wouldn't be the same without you. He loves you, you know?'

'I'll be there, Andy,' I said, using the name we'd all called him since childhood. It didn't really match, but he liked it better than Tony.

'Is it all right if I bring Ella?' I asked.

'Sure.'

'Thanks.'

Anthony continued working, unsure how to follow up.

'How's it all going?' he asked.

'Okay, I think. I'll be seeing her tonight as well. Nothing fancy, just a DVD and a few bevvies.'

'Sounds nice.'

'Yeah.'

We were silent then and I wondered what lay ahead. My separation had affected the entire family and I knew everyone wanted us to rekindle our relationship. It was a difficult topic.

'How's Chloe halfway through uni and loving life?' I said, changing the subject.

The hand pressure released.

'Yeah, uni starts up again next month. Summer comes to an end, thank Christ. Her social life's getting out of hand. She goes out to nightclubs and parties and G.o.d knows what else. She came home at seven the other morning. Gabrielle nearly had a fit. Can you believe it, seven seven in the morning?' in the morning?'

'That's pretty normal, Andy. She's still a good kid.'

'A good kid, right,' he repeated, and there was a long silence before he said, 'Caught up with Dad lately?'

'Jesus, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?' I said, pushing his hand away and rolling off the bed. 'I haven't seen him since Christmas either. Just over a month ago. You gonna earbash me about that as well?'

Anthony wiped his hands on the towel, screwed the lid on the oil and tossed it in his bag.

'You can be pretty selfish sometimes, you know that?'

'Oh, p.i.s.s off.' I s.n.a.t.c.hed up my wallet, peeled out a fifty and flicked it on the desk. 'I come here for physio, Andy. Not to be accused of neglect. I'm trying to make something positive happen with El and get back in the harness at work. That takes time and a lot of emotional energy.'

'Fair enough, but don't forget being a cop made you like this.' He pointed at the scar on my shoulder. 'That's just the flesh. Your s.h.i.t goes all the way to the bone.'

I slid into my pants, yanked on my shirt and started doing up the b.u.t.tons. Any benefit from the ma.s.sage was gone. I was tenser now than I'd been all week.

'Think I'll find another ma.s.seur.'

'That'd be right. Push away everyone who cares about you. Keep going, pretty soon you'll be all alone. Then you'll be happy. You gotta know what you want to get what you want.'

I didn't bother with the last few b.u.t.tons or my shoelaces, just jerked the door open.

'Wait,' he said.

I stopped.

'I'm sorry. I'm a p.r.i.c.k, I know.'

I wanted to agree, but couldn't. I was a p.r.i.c.k too.

Anthony let out a long breath, then said, 'I shouldn't take it out on you. I've just got my own s.h.i.t to deal with now, that's all. I can't handle Mum's and Dad's as well. I just ... I'm sorry, I need help.'

I stood in the doorway as Anthony zipped up the gym bag, sprayed disinfectant on the ma.s.sage bed and wiped it down in angry swipes.

'What is it?' I asked, suddenly ashamed of my behaviour and looking at my brother in what seemed like the first time in ages. Really looking at him.

'Remember when we were kids, Rubes?' he said. 'We had that storm come through town, after the Ash Wednesday fires finally ended? Mum and Dad were out. We sat on the roof, watched the storm brewing on the hills. Remember?'

I nodded and came back in the room. For sure I remembered. It was February 1983, we were teenagers, and our farmhouse had survived the worst bushfires in living memory. Then there were the clouds. They were dark and angry, a mixture of black and orange, and they marched down from the hills as though G.o.d had sent them to earth to extinguish the blaze. I'll never forget running back inside, stealing a sixpack of Dad's beer, climbing onto the roof and smoking a joint with Anthony as the lightning started.

'We hadn't seen decent rain in years,' I said. 'When it eventually came, we just sat up there and let it soak us.'

Anthony sat on his desk.

'Mum and Dad came home early. We s.h.i.t ourselves, tried to hide the beer and the hooch, remember that?'

Yeah, I remembered that too. I'd climbed off the roof, soaking wet. Anthony had tossed down empty beer bottles and I'd b.l.o.o.d.y dropped one but the rain on the roof shielded the noise. Afterwards, we lied to Mum and Dad, said we'd been at Jacko's place.

'The lie was never gonna work,' I said, remembering Mum's fierce reaction and her handy use of the wooden spoon. 'Dad smelt the beer on us a mile off, told Mum to deal with us. I suppose one look in the fridge he would've seen 'em missing too.'

Anthony laughed wryly. 'Didn't get done for the hooch though, did we?'

'No. Not the hooch.'

Anthony went silent then and I felt an internal panic.

'Andy, what's going on?'

'It's Chloe,' he said at last. 'I found these in her bedroom.'

He handed me a bag with three pink tablets in it, each stamped with the Mercedes symbol.

'Ecstasy,' I said.

Anthony nodded gravely. Nuclear family nightmare.

'You found these in her bedroom?'

'In one of her drawers.'

I put the pills on the desk and leant against the wall with the muscle man on it.

'Searching her room, Andy?'

'No.'

'Right.' I waited.

'Well, just as b.l.o.o.d.y well I did. What if it goes on? She could end up in hospital, or worse.' Anthony rubbed his face. 'I should've seen it, I s'pose. All the late nights and weird music. Whatever happened to seeing a band at the local pub?'

I often wondered the same thing.

'No bands worth seeing any more,' I said. 'Too many popstar shows.'

'f.u.c.kin' joke. I haven't told Gabrielle yet, don't know if I should. Not sure how she'll handle it. Would you talk to her for me, Rubes?'

'Who, Gabrielle?'

'No, Chloe.'

's.h.i.t,' I said, letting out a low whistle. 'You should talk to her, Andy. You're her father.' should talk to her, Andy. You're her father.'

'Oh, come on! You know kids don't listen to their parents. You're a cop, for Christ's sake. You've worked in the Drug Squad. She'll listen to you you.' He handed the fifty-dollar note back. 'Come on, you owe me that much. Keep your money, just help me out.'

I stared at the money, realising I had no choice. He needed my help.

'She's still a good kid, Andy. It's probably just a phase. All kids go through it. Even we did.'

'What, a bit of hooch? We never took this s.h.i.t.'

'It could be worse, you know? A lot worse.'

'I envy you, Rubes,' Anthony said, staring at the photo on his desk. 'No kids to worry about. Sometimes I wonder if life would be easier like that, if I only had to care about myself.'

I said again that I'd talk to her.

'Thank you. I appreciate it.' Anthony picked up the bag of pills. 'What do I do with these?'

'Put them back or she'll know you've been snooping.'

Anthony scoffed at me, said there was no way he'd give them back.

'Well, if you want my advice, tell her you found them in the laundry or she'll never trust you again. She'll just get better at hiding it, maybe even move out. Go live with druggies, do all the rave parties, scoff pills every weekend. Next thing you know, she'll come back when you're not home and p.i.s.s off with the DVD player. Imagine that.'

Anthony emptied the pills into his rubbish bin. 'She'll never trust me me. h.e.l.l, I'll never trust her her.'

'That's the spirit.'

I picked up the picture on the desk and stared at it. On the surface they were a happy family. What about beneath the surface? As far as I knew they had always been happy. Sure, there were normal tantrums and fights, but the kids attended good schools and they never went without anything. Then again, you'd be surprised at the sort of homes we got called to after a domestic blue. And I couldn't tell you how many smashed picture frames I'd seen. Sometimes bigger houses just hid bigger problems.

I put the picture down and thought about Anthony's recount of the storm in 1983. We'd been busted for drinking the beer, but Anthony had taken the rap and said it was his idea. In truth it was the other way around. I'd stolen the beer from the fridge. I'd even rolled the joint. But being the eldest, Anthony accepted responsibility and Mum's wrath with the wooden spoon. And it wasn't the only time he'd taken the rap for me. There was the car accident. Not serious, but again I avoided accountability. Then there were the dope plants among the tomatoes, parties when our folks went away and the girls from down the street in our bedroom late at night. Bringing the memory up was clever manipulation on Anthony's behalf. A cunning reminder of how many times he'd been there for me.

'Andy, if you don't want to take my advice, why did you even ask me to talk to Chloe? I mean, obviously I don't know anything about kids. Like you said, I don't have any of my own to worry about. So what the h.e.l.l would I know?'

Anthony stared up at me with a pained expression.

'I'm sorry,' he said, rummaging in the bin for the pills. 'I shouldn't have said it like that, but I'm not giving them back. I'll tell her I found them in the bathroom. Just like you say, okay?'

'Laundry.'

'Whatever. Just talk to her, will you?'

'Okay, I'll do it, but not at the party tomorrow night. I'll do it in my own time.'

'Sure, whenever. Thanks, bro.'