In the staffroom, the other teachers called Volvo the “Animal’s Animal” and joked about his knuckles making scuff marks on the ground as he walked. He was in Year Ten and his name was Gary Vollenheim but nearly everyone called him Volvo. After the trucks, not the cars.  It would’ve been different in a film. I would’ve insisted on calling him Gary and spoken up when the small-town gossip turned to the Vollenheim family. Instead I listened. “Have you seen his mother?” someone would say. Usually Warren, one of the fishing men in immaculate white shirts, shorts and long white…