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wasn’t all right. Not at all. Why would Behrouz take the day off when we needed all the money he could earn? Where had he gone? Where was he now? The flickers of doubt were taking on life, turning into a monster in my mind that was feeding on the thought of the gun beneath my sheets. I knew what I had to do.
    I crossed the road at breakneck speed. A taxi blasted me with its horn. I hurried across the car park, keeping my head down. Doors slammed, an engine revved and a pair of headlights snapped on, blinding me as a van shot out between the cars, swerved towards the exit and screeched into the traffic. I ran upstairs and let myself into the flat.Moving quietly so as not to wake Mina, I took the grocery bag from under my mattress and ran back to the landing. There were people on the stairs. I pressed my back against the wall and waited until their voices and footsteps had gone before I dared to run downstairs. I crouched behind the skips and made my way around the edge of the car park, darting from one patch of shadow to the next until I reached the muddy alley that led down to the canal. I’d taken Mina there once to see the ducks and the painted boats but the burnt-out warehouses by the water had made her cry. I think they reminded her of the bomb-blasted buildings in Kabul that people said were haunted by djinns. The warehouses looked even eerier by moonlight. Tattered posters flapped and whispered from the blackened walls, and behind the broken windows there was nothing but hollow darkness. My feet slithered on the muddy path, I lost my balance and fell, smashing my knee on a sharp stone. I cried out, I couldn’t help it. Shadowy figures ran from beneath the bridge, where a small fire flickered on the path. I tried to limp away, frightened they would hurt me. When I turned around, they had slipped into one of the darkened doorways.
    Something rustled the rubbish along the path. I jumped back. A fox bounded out, shaking a rat in its jaws. Its eyes glinted at me for a second before it loped away. I was hobbling and sliding but I forced myself to keep searching until I found what I was looking for: an old wooden boat called the Margaretta . The first time I saw it,I’d felt sad that a boat with such a pretty name had been left to rot. Now I was glad it had been abandoned. I pulled on the rope, bumping the slimy hull against the bank. With a quick glance along the path to make sure no one was watching, I pushed the bag through a tear in the tarpaulin. The heavy thump of metal on wood echoed along the water. I heard a footstep. I spun round. An old man with long white hair and a dirty white beard staggered out of the darkness with a bottle in his hand. The smell of him made me choke. He swayed towards me, holding out his arms and making a gurgling sound with his mouth. I pushed him away and I didn’t stop running until I was back in our flat. Even then I didn’t feel safe.

DAN
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    W hat a nightmare, knowing what I knew and having to trail round after Dad all day when all I wanted to do was yell at him for being a liar. Thankfully we were so busy we didn’t stop for lunch, just grabbed a sandwich in the van, and the rest of the time I managed to avoid talking to him by putting on a sulk whenever he opened his mouth. By the time we got home I thought I was going explode with the strain so I decided to ring round a few mates and see if anyone wanted to meet up. I reached in my jeans pocket – no mobile. I couldn’t believe it, not after the day I’d had. I dug through all my other pockets, rang the number from the house phone, ran outside to check Dad’s van. Nothing. I must have left it at one of the jobs. I’d just haveto think which one. When I got back inside, Mum was in the kitchen dishing up shepherd’s pie.
    â€˜I knew you’d be hungry, so I’ve done your favourite.’
    Hungry? Was she kidding? After stumbling across Dad’s little sideline