Baking bread from the Hovis factory half a mile away made him hungry for huge bites of air. His stomach rolled like a grumbling complaint. The cars glittered with frost, much like the paper-white sky. Danny lay his hand against the smooth plastic of his bag and walked, head raised, trying not to look either way. He ignored his parents’ bedroom window too, thinking of Lot’s wife. On the pavement, he turned a robotic left.

The first transport was parked at the end of his road. Headstone grey, ‘ICT’ stencilled on the sides. Empty driver and passenger seats, St George’s flag hung across the back of the cab, a statue of the blond saint killing a black dragon on the dashboard. He turned his eyes to the road, slowing, but a scream made him jump, and they were there, five in black. He was close enough to see ‘ICO’ stencilled on their chests, the letters gleaming and smooth as a scar. They were struggling, swamping a hunched figure, and it was only when they reached the transport and one man opened the back door that he could see who it was. An old woman, it had to be Mrs Sharmake, although she never left the house without her burka so he wasn’t sure. She was wailing, attempting to get away, but the men wouldn’t let her. Her face was raised to the sky, mouth open, morning breeze making her gown swell like a kite. Her cheeks a glistening sheen, throaty cries making Danny shiver. Her feet bare, the toenails white seashells. She was leaning back, pulling against the men, tendons rigid, feet planted on the dark road, and as big as they were she managed to free one arm to beat her palm against her head, the sound flat, mute, echoing across the empty street. They wrestled with her, grunting and puffing tiny clouds into morning air, grabbed her beating arm, wrenching it behind her back.

Mrs Sharmake yelped once, stopped wailing. She whimpered in pain but did no more. They pushed her into the yawning mouth of the transport and the door clanged like an oven, but louder. A man wearing something like a gas mask made of gleaming black metal looked at Danny and said, ‘Fuck off.’