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The psychiatrist shrugged:

"Its a natural thing to want."

The next day, when I visited Peter, he was dressed and about to sign himself out. He would not come home. There was no way now that he could be forced to accept treatment, but there was still the matter of the charge that the police were pressing. I reminded him that he was on bail and would have to soon appear in court. He would need legal help.

One of the few older people that Peter would talk to was John Coombs QC. Our kids and his had mixed together as they grew up, and we had shared various family problems over the years. John knew about Peter's prblems, and there had always been good rapprt between them. I told Peter that he should contact Coombsie.

Peter took my advice. On Friday, he and one of his punk mates visited Coombsie in Selbourne Chambers, the Phillip Street stronghold of the Bar, for a legal confernece. John said that he would take the case "under the Old Mates Act". There would be a hearing the following week, when Peter would have to be present, and in the meantime it would be prudent to stay out of sigh and to avoid trouble.

Peter suggested that a good place to keep out of trouble was our farm. John agreed, and the two punks left his chambers to catch the night train to Wagga.

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