‘Yeah, I’m sure. If we wait for them to stop, we’ll be waiting forever.’

He pushed through the partition and walked through. After a moment’s hesitation, Albert followed him.

The inside of the tent was much like the outside: large and colourful, with a preponderance of green. Cushions were piled everywhere, while the corners of the room were taken up by a collection of strange curios, brass lamps and figurines of all kinds. Albert turned to his right, intrigued by an oddly shaped bust of some snarling animal that no self-respecting beast would ever acknowledge as a likeness, painted the ugliest shade of purple he had ever seen. He looked enquiringly at Colby, who looked at it and grimaced.

‘Don’t ask.’

In the exact centre of the room was a large steel bucket, filled with soapy water. Some way back from it, on the other side of a minefield of even more eclectic knick-knacks, was the usual partition that he had seen in most tents here, cutting the rest of the tent off from sight. It was from the other side of the partition that the voices were coming.

‘—good for nothing, that’s what you are! Your father was the same! All the time in the world to wander around with those ruffian friends of his but ask him to do one small thing to help his mother, and what do you get? Nothing!’

‘But Ma …’ came another voice, gruff and embarrassed, although the speaker had no idea they were listening, Albert was sure.

‘But Ma! But Ma!’ screeched the woman, in a hideous impersonation of the man. ‘Never been any good at anything, not all his life, but just ask him to say “But Ma!” and see! Always ready with that, he is!’

‘Oh, stop it, Ma!’ said the man, who had clearly had enough.

‘Stop it! You’ll tell me to stop it, will you? Won’t do anything himself but he’ll ask everyone else to stop it now! You’re no good, Joseph D’Amato, never have been and mark my words, you’ll bring shame on the family, you will!’

‘Ma, just stop it! What you mean shame? I’m in the force and—’

‘And how long have you been in the force? And what have you done! Nothing! You’re as bad as your father! Worse! Useless as he was, at least he was Head Tracker!’

‘But Ma, they can’t make me Head Tracker yet! I—’

‘Of course they can’t make you Head Tracker! Because you’re useless! How can they make you Head Tracker when you’re useless? You’ll bring shame on the family, you will! One small thing I ask you to do, but no! No he says! To the mother that bore him and fed him and clothed him and—’

‘Oh, be done, woman!’