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asked.
    ‘No,’ said Joel.
    And immediately asked himself why. It wouldn’t have done any harm to accept a cigarette.
    The Black Wave lit one and blew a smoke ring.
    ‘Where have you come from?’ he asked.
    ‘From up north,’ said Joel.
    ‘I can hear that,’ said The Black Wave. ‘I can hear that very clearly. “From up north”.’ He imitated Joel’s pronunciation, and burst out laughing. Not nastily. It sounded most like a smoker’s cough.
    ‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ asked The Black Wave.
    ‘I’m waiting for my dad,’ said Joel.
    ‘Where’s he gone?’
    ‘He’s in the toilet.’
    ‘So your old man’s in the john, is he?’ said The Black Wave. ‘Maybe he’s nipped in there for a crafty drop of booze.’
    Joel gave a start. How could this boy know that Joel’s father sometimes drank too much? And could it be true? Was Samuel in there drinking?
    ‘I’ll go and fetch him now,’ said Joel. ‘We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
    ‘I’ll bet you are,’ said The Black Wave. ‘Go on then, I’ll look after your things for you.’
    Joel was just going to let go of the suitcase handle when he remembered that it was broken. He didn’t want The Black Wave to see that.
    ‘I expect the old man will want his suitcase,’ he said. ‘But you can keep an eye on my rucksack.’
    The Black Wave smiled. It seemed to Joel that his luck was in – he’d met somebody who’d offered him a cigarette and was prepared to keep an eye on his rucksack for him. Now he only had two things to carry: Samuel’s suitcase and the box with the Celestine .
    ‘I won’t be a minute,’ said Joel, getting to his feet.
    When Joel entered the toilets, he stopped short, looking around in confusion. There were two rows of cubicles. Most of the doors were closed. He had no idea which one Samuel was in. It seemed to him that he might just as well leave, and wait for Samuel to come when he was ready. But there again, he ought to tell Samuel that The Black Wave was sitting out there in the concourse, looking after Joel’s rucksack.
    Joel waited. Doors opened. He suddenly started to wonder how much crap was flushed down all those lavatories in a single day. The thought made him want to burst out laughing.
    An attendant eyed him up and down, suspiciously.
    ‘Are you waiting for somebody?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ said Joel. ‘My dad.’
    At that very moment the door of the cubicle furthest away opened, and Samuel emerged. He didn’t see Joel standing there. He went to the sink and washed his hands. He looked tired. Then he turned round and caught sight of Joel.
    ‘Where’s your rucksack?’ he asked.
    ‘Out there. Somebody’s looking after it.’
    Samuel frowned.
    ‘Who?’
    It occurred to Joel that he didn’t know The Black Wave’s name.
    ‘You don’t always have to know what people are called,’ he said angrily. ‘He volunteered to keep an eye on my rucksack while I went to look for you.’
    ‘I was a bit constipated,’ said Samuel. ‘That happens sometimes.’
    Then he looked sternly at Joel.
    ‘Are you telling me that you’ve left your rucksack with somebody you don’t know?’
    Joel could see that Samuel’s worry was genuine. That made him feel a bit worried as well.
    They left the toilets.
    The bench was empty. There was no sign of The Black Wave or the rucksack.
    Samuel looked at Joel.
    ‘Where’s your rucksack, then?’
    Joel could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He pointed to the bench.
    ‘There,’ he said. ‘But he’s disappeared. And so has my rucksack.’
    ‘That’s blown it!’ said Samuel. ‘You can’t trust all and sundry. He’s obviously nicked your rucksack.’
    Joel was struggling to hold back the tears. He realised how stupid he’d been. The Black Wave had sat down on the bench next to Joel in order to try and steal the suitcase and the cardboard box and the rucksack. He’d seen immediately that Joel was in town for the first time. And what had he asked about? Are you going