‘Call him, I guess,’ Matt said. ‘He’s my dad, I’ve obviously never done business with him, but he’s got some famous clients. I think we’d hear if he ran off with their money …’

‘I’m racking my brains for options,’ Julius explained. ‘My nightmare is winding up back in Akure, with Mum in prison, no money, and my only choice to beg an uncle who hates me for biting his son’s nose off …’

Matt smiled as Julius glugged from one of the bottles of water. ‘I so can’t see you doing something like that!’

‘Better shift,’ Julius said as he screwed the cap on the half-drunk water and unzipped his backpack to fit in the stuff Matt had brought. ‘I should have plenty of time to make the ten-forty-six train, but it’s easy to lose the footpath in the dark, so better safe than sorry.’

‘I really hope shit works out for you,’ Matt said as he put his fist up to the wire mesh so they could bump. ‘Stay in touch, wherever you end up.’

‘Thanks for the money,’ Julius said. ‘You’re a true friend.’

A single-track road went most of the way from Dormansland Hall to Dormans station. But Julius didn’t want to risk being spotted by staff from his old school and took a less direct route across farmland.

The clock on Dormans station was about to hit ten thirty as Julius approached. The red-brick station building was shut for the night. Platform access was through a side gate and the only other passengers were a middle-aged couple, bickering noisily over very little.

They looked wary as Julius hulked past. So after buying a single to London and using the station toilet, he moved to the far end, set his bag on a bench and scraped his Nikes on the platform edge to shed as much mud as possible.

Julius was surprised as the four-carriage train rolled past to stop way down the platform. After forgetting his pack and doubling back in a panic, he caught the rear of the train as it crept to a stop. But there was another shock as the doors opened.

The first person off the train was a Dormansland second-former, dressed in school tracksuit with a hockey stick poking from the end of her kitbag. She was followed by PE teachers and tracksuited hockey squads from each of the school’s five forms.

‘Stick together! Line up along the platform,’ an Aussie PE teacher shouted as Julius scrambled back the way he’d come, grateful for sketchy platform lighting. ‘First-, second- and third-form teams ride on the first minibuses. Fourth and fifth form wait for the drivers to come back.’

As the fourth and fifth form groaned, Julius thought about a dash for the train’s last door. But being six and a half foot tall meant he’d need to hide more than his face.