Matthew sipped his drink. ‘Did your dad really sell you to the Time Police?’

Jane, who would never have dared ask such a question, glanced from one to the other, anxiously.

‘Well, not as such,’ said Luke, casually. ‘He handed them a huge sum of money and I was the accompanying free gift. I’ve been told to stop telling people I was trafficked.’

The silence had a bitter quality about it and Jane thought it best to move things on.

‘You?’ she said to Matthew. ‘How did you come to join?’

‘Partly brought up here. Want to work on the Time Map.’

More silence. They waited but that was obviously it.

‘You?’ said Luke, turning to Jane.

She sighed. ‘I broke my grandmother’s seagull.’

Parrish and Farrell eyed each other sideways.

‘OK, you win,’ said Parrish, breaking the silence. ‘Breaking granny’s seagull is officially the best reason ever for joining the Time Police. My round, I think.’

He returned with the drinks. ‘Right, orange juice for Jane. Beer for me. And a cider for junior.’ He appeared to be struck by a thought. ‘Are you even old enough to drink?’

‘No idea,’ said Matthew, sipping his cider.

‘You don’t know how old you are?’

‘No one knows how old I am. Very useful, sometimes.’

There was a silence and then Luke said, ‘Are you going to tell us?’

Matthew sighed and then said, reluctantly, ‘If you want to hear.’

Jane nodded. ‘I do.’

‘And me,’ said Luke.

‘All right. Long story short. Stolen from St Mary’s at six months. Trafficked around 19th-century London . . .’ He grinned at Parrish. ‘See, you’re not the only one. Trafficked around 19th-century London. Finished up as a climbing boy. You know – chimneys. Not much to eat. They keep you small. Knocked about a bit. Rescued by my dad. It was a joint St Mary’s/Time Police effort. Returned to my proper time. Brought up here and at St Mary’s. Lots of food – as much as I can eat – but I’m still small and scrawny. Always will be, they tell me.’

He subsided, apparently exhausted by the effort.

Jane and Luke stared at him. He looked down at the table. The silence seemed to last a long time.

‘Matthew,’ said Jane, softly. ‘That’s awful.’

‘Who stole you?’ demanded Luke.

He shrugged. ‘A bloke.’

‘Why?’

‘He didn’t like my mum. He killed her best friend and snatched me.’

He stopped again.

‘And . . .’ Luke prompted, softly.

‘And sold me. Several times, actually. Like that famous man who kept selling London Bridge to foreigners.’

‘And that’s how you became a climbing boy?’

‘Yeah. Oh, it was all done properly. I was apprenticed. Apparently, there were papers signed and money changed hands.’

‘Wasn’t that a good thing? You being a proper apprentice, I mean?’

‘Not really. If you run away – for whatever reason – you’re breaking the law.’

He stopped again.