Ron McCoy’s Sea of Diamonds by Gregory Day

it was a good solid house but the paint job was terrible and the eaves were mission brown. No hobby farmer from Melbourne was going to want mission brown eaves, he said, and the chippie had agreed. Not to mention turquoise primer trim around the windows. Now he noticed that his own eaves could do with a touch-up, the paint was flaking a bit. That’s only two and a half years of wear and tear, he thought. He took another sip of beer and another forkful of fried rice.
    As he finished the food the energy drained out of him again, he felt exhausted. Still, tomorrow was nothing much, a couple of properties in Minapre in the morning and then the afternoon in the office tying up loose ends. As long as Colin was in a good mood it should be fine. And Colin seemed to have calmed down since going ballistic after they missed Ron McCoy’s property.
    From inside the house he heard
The Muppets
ending and felt momentarily guilty about his thoughts in the car earlier on. She’s a good mother, they’re good kids, he reminded himself.
    A few minutes later, Liz came out and joined him with a cup of peppermint tea. Her hair was down, bunching at shoulder length, and in Levis and a white t-shirt she looked good in the verandah light. She sat on the rail and asked him if the food had been all right. Then she told him how Carla’s petition about letting the dogs on the beach had been rebuffed by the council, despite her getting on talkback radio.
    â€˜You’re fucking joking?’ he said passionately.
    â€˜No. They knocked it back. They said it was too late, the signs were all up and to try again next year.’
    â€˜What, do the signs fall apart in twelve months?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Liz sighed.
    She could feel a bit of extra aggression in Craig’s responses. She hadn’t even known that he cared about the dog issue.
    â€˜They’re fucking hopeless at that shire,’ Craig said. ‘You ask Colin. He’s dealing with them all the time. I mean,
really
, what’s a bit of dog shit on the beach?’
    â€˜Well, it does get stinky when there’s a lot of it. Sometimes in January you can’t get down the Heatherbrae steps without standing in it. That’s a bit much.’
    â€˜What? Are you with Carla or against her?’
    â€˜Oh, I’m with Carla, but that’s her point. She just wants them allowed on the beach at the beginning and the end of the days. That way you avoid the overkill and everyone’s happy.’
    â€˜Yeah, right.’ Craig shook his head.
    â€˜What?’ Liz said. ‘What’s wrong?’
    He shook his head again, and exhaled loudly through his nose. She waited.
    â€˜Well?’ she finally said.
    â€˜Well, it sounds to me like you’ve got something against dog shit on the beach too! Fuck, Liz, it’s not the dogs who muck things up, it’s the people.’ Now he began to shout. ‘And fucking city people like us come down here and fuck the coast up. You should go and live in Albert Park, or Sydney, if you wanna get around with little doggy-poo bags when you go for a walk on the beach. It’s crazy!’
    Liz’s body had straightened against the rail as Craig’s volume rose. This was right out of the blue. It wasn’t fair.
    â€˜We’re not fucking up this coast,’ she said angrily. ‘I love this coast.’
    â€˜Well, the dogs love it too.’
    â€˜Oh come on, Craig, they’re dogs, they’re not people! I mean, I like dogs, but come on.’
    â€˜You don’t get it, do you? It’s not the dogs, it’s the fucking attitude.’
    â€˜Stop swearing, would you. Reef will hear.’
    â€˜Oh yeah, he’s never heard a swear word before, has he? Never heard a fuck or a shit.’
    â€˜Did you have a bad day or something?’ Liz asked him.
    â€˜No. Not particularly.’
    And then he got up abruptly and went inside to fetch another stubby.
    Liz