“Had any fun since?” Jeff asks. “No,” I say. “The usual drag. I ran into a University mob, thought they might be O.K. but they were a worse fake than the bodgie gang — only rich enough to get away with it.” “Got any ideas?” he asks. “Plenty,” I lie. “Getting out of this city for a start. It gives me the shits.” “Me too,” he says. “I’d like to get out and forget about this doll, but I don’t know where. They reckon there’s some work going in the wheatbelt over harvest, but I don’t know about those parts.” I ask him where exactly and he says my home town. “Yeah,” I say. “It’d be swell to do a job there. Just swell.” “You’d know a few people there, I suppose?” “Sure,” I say. “Kindest, best meaning folks in the world, and all those lovely kids who bashed me up at school. Guess they’ll be big men now.
