'Great,' Patrick said. 'I'll send a car to pick you up. Parking's a bastard at the pavilion.'

'I can get a cab.'

'You'd be going as my guest. It's my pleasure.'

I thanked him and gave him the address. We shook hands again and went our separate ways. That put my holiday on hold for a while, but I hadn't come up with a workable plan anyway. I spent my time in the ways I'd begun, reluctantly, to get used to-going to the gym in Leichhardt, swimming at Victoria Park, hanging out with Frank Parker and Hilde, dropping in on my daughter and her partner Hank Bachelor. I was reading through a batch of Penguin Hemingway novels I'd picked up second-hand in Gleebooks and playing pool with Daphne Rowley in the Toxteth Hotel. And religiously taking my meds.

I was collected by a guy driving a white Commodore and wearing a uniform with patches that said 'Pavee Security'. The word rang a bell but I couldn't place it. His name tag read Kevin Barclay and I was glad that he didn't say he was there to help. Too many Kevins these days did. He didn't talk much on the drive. The fight was a big event with extensive media interest and Patrick was right-parking was a problem all around the Hordern Pavilion and the driver had to keep his mind on the job to avoid angry motorists and work his way to where only the privileged few could go. He got me close to an entrance and handed me a ticket.

'Enjoy the fight, Mr Hardy.'

'Thanks. Will you be inside, Kev?'

'Some of the time.'

'Expect any trouble?'

'Nah, well, I could let you in on a secret.'

'Yeah?'

'Better not. I'm saying Moody by a knockout in the fifth.'

I puzzled over his remark as I presented the ticket and was escorted down a couple of levels and along an aisle to a seat in the second row with a square-on view of the ring. There's something unique about a boxing program that infects the audience before it starts. You know a fight can be a long, testing affair or over in a matter of seconds. No other sporting contest is like that. The place was packed and noisy and that atmosphere of tense uncertainty drove other thoughts from my mind. The front row is too close. It spoils the perspective, and further back you miss some of the nuances. Row two is perfect.