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Dad groans. “I’m begging you. Both of you. Can we please stop talking about this?”

Mr Parker waves a glove-encased finger at Dad. “Now, Rob, no harm telling the boy the way of things. It’s important to have your prostate checked regularly.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “I assure you, Carl. My prostate is just fine. How are your roses?”

I snigger at my father’s discomfort, but I get it. I’d be wanting to change the subject, too, if it were me. “Got some old sleepers, here, Mr Parker,” I cut in. “What about I make you up a new garden bed out front?”

“You’re a good boy, lad. Raised him right, Rob.” Mr Parker gives me a nod. “I’ll take you up on that, Luke. I could do with a new project. Elsie won’t let me do the gutters or the windows anymore. Gotta keep busy.” He climbs down off his ladder and his head disappears below the line of the fence.

Dad pats me on the shoulder. “Just you wait. This will be all over town by the end of the week.”

I laugh. “Come on, Dad. They’re not as bad as that.”

He gives me a long look, but he doesn’t need to say anything more. I know they are. News travels like a bushfire on a windy summer day in Rosella Bay.

“Look. Don’t go blowing this up, OK?” he tells me. “Your mother’s forcing me to go see the specialist. I can tell you right now, there’s nothing wrong, but she won’t leave it alone.”

I pick up the spade and wedge it into the dirt, planting my boot on top. Dad gets the chainsaw, and we work without talking for a while. The sun is getting lower in the sky and it's getting colder.

Eventually, Dad switches off the chainsaw and wipes the back of his arm across his forehead.

“I’m glad you’re getting it checked out, though,” I tell him.

He pats me on the shoulder in the way that still makes me feel about five years old. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Nothing to worry about.”

After Dad leaves, I shower, wondering if it’s too full on to go round to Mia’s again tonight. Probably.

As I’m towelling off, a message pops up on my phone.

Mia: did u talk to your dad? Everything OK?

Luke: yeah. I mean I think. It’s just a test at this stage

Mia: here if you want to talk. Or if you just want to come binge Netflix and ice cream. Here for that too xx

I should probably leave her alone. I did just spend all night and all morning at hers.

My resolve lasts all of about twenty minutes, until Mia sends me a photo of her in her tiny pyjama shorts and my jumper.

Mia: still haven’t showered. Better come now or I’m choosing the movie

I’m into my truck and parking in her driveway quicker than I should probably admit, given I had to break the speed limit to do it. When I knock she opens the door straight away with a grin.

“Have you eaten? I couldn’t be bothered going to shops, so I’m making omelette and I could make some for you, too.”

My stomach growls and Mia shoots it a look. “Two omelettes coming right up.”

I feel a bit lame sitting at the kitchen counter while Mia cooks me dinner. When I try to get up and help, though, she shoos me back to the stool. “You’re the guest. Sit!”

I sit down again, and she hands me a plate with some toast, then pushes the butter towards me. “There. If you want to be useful.”

As I butter the toast, she turns back to the stove. “So did your dad say what he’s being tested for?”

“Not exactly. He just said it’s a lump and—” I break off, grimacing. “Pretty sure you don’t want all the ugly details.”

She turns and slides a steaming omelette onto my plate. “Why not? If you want to tell me, I don’t mind.”

“Well, it sounds like they think it’s bowel cancer. At least that’s what came up top of my search when I googled. Not that he was up front about the details.”

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