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get sarcasm.’
    She looked searchingly at Milo. ‘What can we do for him at this point?’
    ‘Well, for starters we can stop him throwing his life away,’ he answered, pulling from his pocket the bottles of sleeping pills and tranquillisers that he had managed to swipe without Toms noticing.
    ‘I hope you realise that you’re at least in part responsible for what’s happening to him.’
    ‘What, so it’s my fault Aurore left him?’ Milo countered.
    ‘You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.’
    ‘Are you saying that it’s my fault there was a worldwide financial crash? That it’s because of me that Bernie Madoff decided to embezzle $50 billion? And, be honest, what didyou really think of that girl?’
    Carole shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
    ‘I didn’t really know her, but I always knew she wasn’t for him.’
    In the distance the atmosphere on the pier was buzzing. Children’s shrieks of excitement mingled with the smell of candyfloss and toffee apples. The theme park’s Ferris wheel and rollercoasters were built directly over the water, facing the small island of Santa Catalina, which was just visible through the evening mist.
    Milo sighed.
    ‘I’m starting to worry that no one will ever find out how the Angel Trilogy ends.’
    ‘I know how it ends,’ Carole said calmly.
    ‘You know the end of the story?’
    ‘Tom told me.’
    ‘Really? When?’
    Her face darkened.
    ‘Oh, it was a long time ago,’ she replied vaguely.
    Milo frowned. His surprise was tinged with disappointment. He had believed he knew everything about Carole’s life: they saw each other almost every day, she was his best friend, his only real family, and – although he would never admit it – the only woman he had ever had true feelings for.
    He looked out at the sea, his mind elsewhere. Just like on TV, a few plucky souls were braving the waves on surfboards, whilst impossibly good-looking lifeguards surveyed the beach from their little wooden huts. Milo watched the surfers without really seeing them; all he could think about was Carole.
    Their bond was a particularly strong one that had formed when they were children and was based on mutual respect. Even if he had never said it out loud, Carole meant more to him than anyone else in the world, and the nature of herjob meant he worried about her constantly. Unbeknownst to her, in the evening he would sometimes park outside her apartment block, because it comforted him to know that he was close to her. The truth was, his single greatest fear was that one day he might lose her, even though he himself was not really sure what exactly he was so afraid of. That she would get hit by a train? That she would take a bullet whilst arresting a junkie? Or the more likely option, that he would have to watch her fall in love with another man.
    *
    Carole put on her sunglasses and undid the top button of her shirt. In spite of the heat, Milo resisted the temptation to roll up his sleeves. His upper arms were covered in tattoos of cabalistic symbols, indelible reminders of his days in MS-13 , also known as Mara Salvatrucha, an extremely violent gang that ruled the streets of MacArthur Park, which he had joined at the age of twelve for lack of anything else to do. Born to an Irish mother and a Mexican father, Milo had been considered a Chicano by the other clan members, all Salvadoran immigrants who had subjected him to the cortón initiation ceremony. This was a hazing that for girls was a gang rape and for boys a group beating that lasted around fifteen minutes. It was an absurd rite of passage that was somehow supposed to prove your courage, toughness and loyalty, but often ended in bloodshed.
    Although barely a teenager, Milo had nevertheless survived the ordeal and for two years he stole cars, dealt crack, worked the black market and sold arms, all for the Mara. By the time he turned fifteen he had become a savage who knew nothing beyond fear and violence. Trapped in a downward