At seventeen he was a man in most respects, six feet tall with his chip-of-azure eyes and hero’s jawline gleaming from the razor. He was school champion in swimming and tennis and star attraction of the Crater Lakes Players; local matrons, and not a few girls, jostled for his autograph after his remarkable turn as Stanhope in Journey’s End. The Lakes had never seen the like. Picture him roaring down Volcano Street on his red Harley-Davidson, goggles flashing, gloved hands gunning the throttle. To ride in the sidecar was the ambition of every girl at the high. Few did so more than once; there was Deirdre Gull, of course, the mayor’s daughter, but she was a special case. The Dansies had been kings of Crater Lakes since settlement began. Lately, though, the family star had fallen. Roger’s father had been a surly fellow whose sole delights were betting on horses, drinking, and thrashing Jack, the Aboriginal servant who more than once had saved his master from prison, brawls and car crashes.
