‘Maybe I shouldn’t have helped,’ Julius said guiltily. ‘But I’d be going against my whole family, and I’m already the awkward one they sent into exile …’

‘You kept records,’ Duke said. ‘Your uncle would have just got someone else to do it …’

‘I took five thousand for myself,’ Julius said. ‘I was thinking I could send a Western Union transfer, to help with your medical bills.’

‘We might not need it,’ Duke said, his voice perking up. ‘My uncle got attacked in the street yesterday. Just scratches. But last night he was ranting about how he’s sick of this city and wants to get out.’

‘Amsterdam?’ Julius asked.

‘I’m hoping.’

Julius cracked a grin. ‘Are things better now the result is in?’

‘They didn’t release the vote count,’ Duke said. ‘But my uncle got hold of the figures. There are 1.9 million adults registered to vote in Ondo State. Rotimi got 1.25 million votes, Adebisi 1.22 million.’

‘That’s a lot of forged ballot papers,’ Julius gasped. ‘And on the streets?’

‘The worst,’ Duke said bluntly. ‘My mother is afraid to walk to the market, and the cops hardly leave their precincts.’

Julius shook his head as he saw Duke’s mum move in the edge of the frame. ‘Hello there, Miss Balogun!’

‘Good day,’ Duke’s mother said, a touch sour as she stepped between Duke and the laptop on the coffee table.

‘You’re blocking,’ Duke protested.

‘Do not use that tone with me!’ Duke’s mum said. ‘Are you going to sit on your behind all day? I asked you to take that stinking rubbish bag out one hour ago.’

‘Got my orders,’ Duke told Julius wearily as his mother walked away. ‘I’ll call tonight, if you’re not out partying with all your new friends.’

‘No chance,’ Julius said. ‘I’m back to The Hall first thing Monday, and I’ve hardly touched the half-term homework.’

‘Good times!’ Duke said, glancing around to make sure his mother wasn’t looking before blowing Julius a kiss.

Duke’s hip crunched painfully as he leaned forward to close the laptop lid. He took a couple of mouthfuls of warm cola from a glass on the table, slid his feet into a set of thongs and grabbed the knotted rubbish bag in front of the fridge.

‘Your loyal slave will now commence his mighty task,’ Duke said.

‘You can pour me gin and give me a foot massage when you get back,’ his mother laughed. Then seriously, ‘Take the mailbox key – nobody has checked today.’

The electricity was on, but even with his sore hip, Duke didn’t chance the elevator.

‘Be careful out there,’ an elderly man warned as he came up with groceries.

Duke didn’t know the guy’s name, but they always swapped a few words when they met. ‘Just taking the rubbish down.’