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years old and had movedin opposite one another on the Joshua Tree Estate. They had no idea why it was called that. Darryl had looked up the Joshua Tree once, and beyond it being the name of an album by U2 and a plant that grew in the Mojave Desert in America, he had no clue why someone had chosen to name their estate after it.
    They walked through the park karate-kicking the snowmen. In their heads they were ninja assassins fighting the evil forces of the Supreme Overlord, battling his warriors, making their way to him. There was one snowman right in the centre of the park that was larger than all the rest. This was the Supreme Overlord. Millsy and Darryl reached him, having defeated his minions, and now had to face their greatest foe. Unfortunately their joint imaginations didn’t really extend beyond giving the snowman a right good kicking, and pretty soon the Supreme Overlord was just a pile of snow in the midst of other piles of snow, and Millsy and Darryl were cold and bored.
    They sat on a concrete plinth that used to sport a memorial to Queen Victoria, but it had been defaced and vandalized so often that the council removed it. They were trying to ignore the cold. This was easier for Millsy, who had a heavy army-surplus trench coat. Darryl was wearing a thin Adidas hoodie, because that was all he had.
    They saw a figure walking across their battlefield,turning in circles, looking lost. It was Anthony. Millsy and Darryl watched him approaching.
    â€˜What’s this numpty about?’ said Darryl, sticking out his chin in Anthony’s direction and making sure to keep his hands in his pockets.
    â€˜Nice jacket,’ replied Millsy with a smile out of one side of his mouth. ‘Looks like a right perv.’
    Anthony saw the two youths ahead of him. He had seen them from the moment he entered the park. He was careful to keep them in sight but not project a defensive air. He knew it didn’t pay to provoke people looking for trouble, and the world was full of them. At the same time maybe he was being unfair. Just because they looked like a pair of ASBO-collecting yobs, it didn’t mean they were. He planned to walk past, but then one of them called out to him.
    â€˜You all right there, pal?’ called Darryl. ‘You look a little lost.’
    Anthony didn’t make eye contact, but he was subtle about it. He shook his head. ‘It’s not right. Something’s not right.’
    â€˜I can tell you something that’s not right,’ said Millsy with a smile directed at Darryl, who returned it.
    â€˜This is Manchester,’ said Anthony.
    â€˜Yeah,’ agreed Millsy.
    â€˜I wasn’t here, but now I am.’ Anthony was talkingas much to himself as to Millsy and Darryl. The two boys exchanged a look.
    â€˜Don’t worry about it, pal,’ said Darryl. ‘It’s Christmas. It’s okay to get a little merry at Christmas.’
    Anthony frowned as he thought about it. He held his hand to his mouth and breathed into his palm. His breath wasn’t great, smelled a bit medicinal and there was something else. Peanuts. Dry-roasted. But no odour of alcohol.
    â€˜No, I haven’t been drinking,’ said Anthony. ‘But I have been eating dry-roasted peanuts, which are an ingredient in dynamite.’ Why did he say that? Where had it come from? It just came out. He thought about it. Couldn’t remember how he knew it, but he was pretty sure it was true.
    Millsy and Darryl looked at one another, both thinking the same thing:
Is this guy a nutter or can we have some fun with him?
    â€˜That’s interesting, isn’t it, Millsy?’ said Darryl.
    â€˜Millsy,’ said Anthony. He could feel his brain starting to function independently of the rest of him. It was if an exterior force was controlling him. He knew he was about to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. ‘Mills. Windmills. Always turn anticlockwise.’ The two boys were