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Nate beams in what I would swear is relief. “Oh. Good.”

And off he trots to the kitchen. Louise turns to me.

“If you’re going to live in Australia, you need to learn the local customs. Would you put tomato sauce on Thai food?” she asks pointedly. “No, of course you wouldn’t. And in Australia the schnitzel is always chicken, and the appropriate accompaniment, unless you’re over sixty-five, is chips and salad.”

“Noted. I’m guessing beer is the appropriate drink?”

“Yes.” She grins as though I’ve won at trivia. “Whatever they’ve got on tap’ll be fine for me.”

I’ve showered and cleaned my teeth, drunk an entire litre of water, but my throat is still dusty. A beer is just what I need. After today, I no longer wonder why Australians are so fond of their beer. Nothing else quite clears the airways of red dirt the way beer does.

We’re just finishing dinner when a raucous cheer goes up in the adjoining bar.

It seems there’s a darts tournament in progress.

We wander in and stand towards the back of the crowd. A giant man with massive shoulders and a glowing ginger beard that hangs halfway down his enormous barrel of a chest has just wiped the floor with an old guy in a faded blue singlet and shorts that have seen better days.

Money changes hands.

A young guy steps up, Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny throat, ignoring the taunts of the crowd.

The big man’s opponent tries hard, but it’s another drubbing. More money changes hands.

“Is this a regular competition?” Louise asks the guy standing next to us.

“Don’t know if you’d call it a competition. Nobody ever beats Eddie,” he says.

“C’mon. Any other contenders?” Eddie calls, waving a meaty fistful of battered-looking darts above his head. He’s not a gracious winner, and that rubs me the wrong way. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit showing off my darts skills in front of Louise might hold some appeal.

Like lots of Englishmen, I grew up playing darts in the local pub, and perfected my skills when I should have been studying at university.

“Sure, I’ll give it a go.” Every eye in the bar turns to me as I step forward. Disbelieving and amused. But none more so than Louise, who looks like I just grew another head.

I saunter towards my opponent, hand out. “Jasper Spencer-Jones.” I shake his giant paw.

“Eddie,” he responds. “You know the rules?”

“More or less.” I turn my hand palm up. “Can I be red?”

Eddie laughs and puts three darts in my hand. “Five oh one?” he asks, and I nod. I don’t want this to drag on.

I glance at Louise, who is eyeing the darts like they’re snakes. Three bad-luck snakes, I suspect.

“Ten bucks is the buy-in,” he says as he slaps a colourful note on the nearby table.

Shit. I don’t have any cash on me.

I glance at Louise, who quietly slips a note into my hand, causing a laugh to roll around the circle of onlookers like a Mexican wave. I think they imagine I’ve just been emasculated, but the gesture doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

I let Eddie win the first game, flubbing my shots just enough that he thinks I’m trying, but that I’m not a great player. Eddie’s chest puffs up like a bird in a mating ritual. There are knowing smirks and mutters amongst the crowd.

“Double or nothing?” he suggests as he yanks his darts from the board. He can smell blood in the water.

“Hmm. Maybe just another ten-dollar bet?” I don’t want to cause a fight. I don’t fancy my chances if he thinks I’ve tricked him into losing his money.

Eddie goes first. He’s a competent player. But I’m better.

I debate whether to start easy or go in hard. One look at Eddie’s face and I decide to toy with him a little.