Robert Jack was a few years older and like the rest of us he liked a drink, but unlike the rest of us he even had a girlfriend. He lived in Trafalgar Street long before it was renovated. A few years down the line I heard he’d got slashed. His cheek was marked, but he still had that Mediterranean oily tanned skin and straight black hair and, when I saw him in the Peppermint Park later that week he still had a girlfriend, although it might have...