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air.
    ‘Would that be OK?’ I said.
    ‘Now he’s asking if that would be OK.’ He was being strange, or extracting the urine , as Dad would say. ‘Sorry to break it to you, but you two clowns are going nowhere.’
    ‘But …’
    ‘There’s someone who wants to meet you two numpties. So, sorry to say, you won’t be setting off together into the night.’
    ‘Who wants to meet us?’ I said.
    ‘Get in.’ The window man pointed to the back of his truck.
    Pav stepped behind me, gripping on to my back. I heard a tiny whimper from his mouth. I reached and held his wrist. Just to let him know that I was there for him, that I was his buddy, that I wouldn’t abandon him.
    ‘Where we go?’ Pav said, stepping back into view.
    ‘Rap it, Duda,’ the window man said. ‘In!’
    ‘But who wants to see us?’ I asked again.
    ‘Don’t make me get out of this vehicle, Law.’ He clicked open his door a little. ‘Do not make me do that.’
    ‘OK, we’re coming. We’re coming,’ I said, and pulled the heavy back door open. I jumped in first, then gestured for Pav to follow. He reached for me. I took his hand and pulled him into the wagon. The sweat almost made him slip away. The inside reeked of chemical bombs, or it could just have been sweat and farts.
    ‘Right, the pair of you, sit there. One word and you’ll get a severe clout.’
    We said nothing.
    ‘Got it?’ he roared.
    I didn’t want a severe clout. A severe clout would make me cry. God, imagine Erin F seeing me bubble. Doesn’t bear thinking about.
    We said nothing.
    Travelled to the sound of our hearts pounding.

9
Money
    The place they took us was minging.
    Manky dripping water fell from the roof. It wasn’t even raining. It reeked of salt, damp towels and dog shit. The stink was so bad that if you opened your mouth it was as if you were actually munching on some dog shit; it got stuck into the back of my throat. Weird: no pets were allowed in Little Town. Weirder still: I couldn’t hear any barking sounds.
    ‘Right, that’s you. Out.’
    The window man didn’t turn off his engine. He didn’t get out himself. He didn’t tell us where we were or what we were supposed to do. We were standing outside a big barn, factory or farm. I wasn’t sure. His only instruction was:
    ‘See that door over there?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Move your arses through it.’
    We watched him driving off into the night again, searching for stragglers.
    We were alone. The door faced us. I looked at Pav, directly into his eyes. I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me: if we went through that door, we might not get back out. If we didn’t open it, something worse would happen to us.
    When I opened the door, Pav gripped tightly on to my elbow, as though he wanted me to be his eyes. His leader. His protector.
    ‘I no like this, Charlie,’ Pav said.
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘I tell you. I tell you.’
    ‘No … I mean … oh, never mind. Just keep close.’
    ‘This never happen in Old Country.’
    ‘Pav, do me a favour?’
    ‘What favour?’
    ‘Don’t mention Old Country in here, OK?’
    ‘No Old Country. My mouth zip.’
    ‘Try not to show that you’re scared.’
    ‘But I terror scared, Charlie.’
    Pav gripped harder, moved closer towards me; we were almost hugging. After about twenty yards we stopped walking. It was pitch-black; you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.
    My mind was spinning:
    What’s that smell?
    Who wants to meet us?
    Why do they want to meet us?
    Are we going to be hurt?
    Can they damage Pav instead of me?
    Am I in trouble because Pav’s my newest pal?
    Is this a set-up by Pav and his Old Country mob?
    Do Mum and Dad know I’m here?
    ‘I smell the shit,’ Pav said.
    ‘Me too.’
    It felt as if the smell had dragged us to the ground and kicked the living daylights out of us.
    From the other end of where we were standing a light shone. Someone had opened a door, allowing the light to shoot out and make a run for it. I