He knelt beside Mo. The boy had been crying. He couldn’t see much, but he could hear it in Mo’s breathing, could smell the salt of his tears.

‘Take it, honest.’

Warm fingers touched his. Danny jumped. That made Mo twitch as well, but Danny steadied himself and pushed the apple back until Mo took it. The knife clattered against the wooden floor. He heard a satisfying crunch. The stilted rhythm of chewing. His eyes stung, and he lay his head against the wall. Closed them. Mo started to shake. Danny wanted to put his arms around him but that would have seemed a bit weird. He ducked beneath his bag strap, pushing it towards Mo.

‘There’s more in there. I gotta go, but I’ll be back with some other stuff, in’shallah.’

The boy flinched. He wondered if he’d said it wrong but it was too late. He couldn’t take it back.

‘Don’t move, yeah? My dad’ll find out what happened to your family. I’ll come back.’

He got up. Walking towards the stairs, Danny heard it. Rasping like the scrape of his brother’s finger, raw with grief.

‘Later.’

He turned, lifting a palm at Mo’s shadow. ‘Fuck Immigration Control.’

Mo stared. His eyes precious stone, defiant. ‘Yeah, man. Fuck ’em.’

Danny nodded.

Outside the air was cold, the skies brighter, bluer. The clouds had moved elsewhere. He lifted himself from the cellar into the car park. He ducked through a hole in the fence and headed home, hands in pockets, head down, looking at nothing; not billboards, cars, or people.

He crossed as an ICT rolled by, heavy and monotonous. It stopped behind him. Danny winced, trying not to tense. The whine of reversal set his teeth on edge. He wanted to run, made himself step at a regular pace. The transport appeared at his left shoulder, kept reversing, coming to a stop some yards beyond. They waited until he drew close, the driver leaning from his window. It was the one from the alley, double chin and dough-ball features.

‘All right, kid?’

He had to stop, face him, much as he didn’t want to.

‘Yep.’

‘Finished yuh paper round?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then where’s yuh bag?’