‘What’s a gunna?’ The small boy is excited.

‘Well, it’s different to a gunnie,’ says the man, and he grins. It’s not a polite grin. Not at all.

‘I knew of a place once called Gunna’s Ridge, seeing as we’re going there,’ added the man, and he swiped his nose with a grimy hand.

‘Where is it?’ The boy was curious now, more curious than he should have been. He wonders why it is no longer present tense, and why he is beginning to get a sinking feeling in his gut.

‘Let me tell ya what a gunna is.’ The man stood up and absent-mindedly straightened his trousers.

He pushed his curly hair back into position, and the boy could smell Brill Cream. It was a very distinctive smell to a small child, and still is, apparently. The collared shirt was neatly tucked back into the man’s trousers, and his belt tightened a notch. He reached down and wiped the dirt off his shoes as best he could.

‘Come on then, kiddo.’

‘I don’t know if I want to,’ the boy said. ‘I’d rather just talk about it.’

The man nodded. ‘Yep. That’d be about right, I s’pose.’

‘You s’pose? What’s that mean?’ The boy began to feel a little belligerent, himself. Had he spelled something wrong? He didn’t know, and he was no longer caring much either. ‘Why can’t we just talk about it?’ he said, and tried to stop himself from snarling. If he snarled at the man, he’d get a cuff over the ear, he knew he would. It had happened before.

‘You just wanna talk about it. Ya don’t wanna do it, ya don’t wanna learn it, ya don’t wanna see, ya don’t wanna do anythin’ much, do ya,’ the man said. He didn’t appear angry at all. He didn’t seem perplexed. He just seemed resigned to the idea that this kid could only learn about things through talking about it.

‘Yep.’ The kid stood up straighter. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He had two strong legs, two strong arms, and he had a heartbeat. What was wrong with this bloke, that he was looking at him like he’d just crawled out from under a rock?

‘You wanna know what a gunna is still, do ya?’ The man said and he began to turn away.

‘Yes I do,’ replied the kid.

‘Pretty sure I’ve just explained it. You are. You’re a gunna. Gunna do this, gunna do that. Gunna do all sorts of shit, and yet here you are, doing sweet eff ay, and nothin’ to show for it.’

‘That’s a gunna?’ The kid scratched his head. ‘Dunno if I wanna be one of them, then.’

‘Sweet,’ said the man. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’