He told her about The Fatal Shore, and going to listen to McIver and Ruth at the Bridge Hotel on the weekend. The place had been packed. He’d heard them once before, but the night at the hotel had been a surprise. Just two guitars and vocals, the songs mainly blues and roots, not Troy’s music of choice. But there was something moving in the way their voices went together, and he hadn’t been the only person aware of this. ‘Who would have thought it?’ said Anna. ‘Mac.’ The night had been almost uplifting, not just the music but the fact it had found a good audience. Sometimes, driving around the city and seeing the glow of television screens in every home you passed, you could start to think everyone was the same. But they weren’t, of course. They talked of other things. He told her about the builders but she wasn’t interested. Finally he said, ‘How’re you finding it, looking after Matt all the time?’ ‘The life of the single mum isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’ ‘Well, it doesn’t have to be your life.
