At the end of the day he was still trying to catch up with himself, shoving his things into the plastic carrier that served him for a schoolbag, when a boy who seemed to have taken against him, for no reason Brookie could fathom, shoved him hard from behind, knocking him over and sending the carrier flying. He didn’t bother to retaliate but by the time he had gathered up his scattered belongings, including his pencil case that had rolled under a bench into the mud, it was twenty to four and the bus had left. He knew better than to expect his brothers to ask the driver to wait a minute for him, even if the driver would. He looked along the line of waiting parents’ cars in case he saw anyone who might be going to, or even near, Starly, but it was dark and hard to make anyone out as he walked up and down, trying to stop the split carrier bag from spewing out its contents again.

Brookie never wasted time feeling sorry for himself because it was just the way things generally were, and he was used to it. ‘Shit happens,’ his dad said, half a dozen times a day.

‘You lost or what?’

The man’s voice, close by him yet apparently coming out of nowhere, made him lose his hold on the carrier bag completely.

‘Here, let me. What are you like, Sam?’

‘I’m not Sam,’ he said, wiping water off his pencil case.

‘Sorry, could have sworn you were. Is this yours?’

‘Yeah! Great, thanks.’

‘So who are you?’

‘Brookie Roper.’

‘Course you are, should have known, only it’s dark, right?’

‘OK.’

‘Looking for your mum?’

‘I . . . no. I just missed the bus.’

‘Your fault or the bus’s? Still, whatever – you missed it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Where’d you live?’

‘Starly.’

‘Then lucky you, Brookie Roper, it’s where I’m heading. I was just dropping off my girl’s homework books . . . she’s off sick.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Her name? Amy.’

‘What year is she?’

‘You’d make a good cop – what this, who that.’

‘Sorry.’

‘You’re all right. So, do you want a lift to Starly or what?’

In the man’s van and clutching his carrier bag, Brookie said, ‘I’ll be home first, the school bus stops everywhere, it’s really boring.’

‘Whereabouts?’

‘Mercer Close but you can drop me anywhere.’

The bloke didn’t seem old. He had one those stupid man-buns of which there were a lot in Starly.

‘What’s your name?’ Brookie asked.

‘Fats.’

‘That’s not a name.’

‘Well, it’s mine. What does Brookie stand for?’

‘Brooklyn.’

‘There you go then.’