Best Australian Yarn: Made in France by Rosanne Dingli

He played like an angel. Like Elton John. Like a mythical Ashkenazy with a cigarette between his lips, changing key and never peeking round to see if anyone noticed, with hunched shoulders in a kind of repressed glee.

Without looking, he reached for scalding black coffee we placed on the piano, thick with sugar. Without looking, he played with one hand until the coffee glass was drained, leaving a line of golden half-melted sugar crystals down the side. Toughened Glass, it said on the underside. Duralex. Made in France. He was made in France too, or his mother was, at least.

They lived on the corner of Arcadia Drive, in that lopsided crumbling house with many green windows whose flaking paint littered the footpath and lawn – if you could call it that – on windy days. It was the quintessential Western Australian holiday home, complete with blistered weatherboards, upside-down rowing boat with its permanent fringe of grass, and pile of craypots. They lived in it year round. The front steps, made of jarrah – weathered and grey – were hollowed with decades of use, and misuse. It was easy to imagine someone using the top step as a workbench, pocking it with nail holes, chipping it with chisels. We sat there and waited for him to emerge, followed by Sheppy, wagging and waving a long black and white tail.