‘Hold on,’ said Joe. ‘Your cousin’s in the Band, isn’t he? Your aunt’s son. The one with the stupid name. What was it, Ratcliff?’

‘Who, Rat? Nah, Joe. ’E’s a bit wild an’ all, but he ain’t in no gang.’

‘I’ve seen him.’

‘No way!’

‘I’m telling you, I’ve seen him. Running around with that red band on his arm and everything.’

Kieran’s face darkened. ‘We’ll see ’bout that!’ He stalked off.

‘Hold on, Kieran,’ said Colby. ‘We’ll come with you.’

They walked on, back towards the cluster of tents, past it to another, and down another set of alleyways before stopping in front of one of the tents.

‘This is it,’ said Kieran. They followed him inside and through the first partition, and then another on the right, to a small chamber with a mattress on the floor, with a boy sleeping on it. He must have been about thirteen or fourteen, with longish greasy black hair and a pale pointy nose. He did look a bit like a rat. He was wearing blue trousers and a white shirt with stains all over, and a red band around one arm.

Kieran swore and stepped forward, shaking the boy roughly. He groaned and shook off the hand, which only made Kieran shake him again, more roughly this time, until the boy swore too and opened his eyes, blinking drowsily up at them. The moment he saw Kieran the sleepiness disappeared, replaced by a look of alarm. He scrambled to his feet and started towards the right, but Kieran grabbed him by the arm, throwing him back on the mattress, from where he glowered up at them.

‘Whaddya want?’ he said.

‘I’ll tell yer what I want,’ said Kieran threateningly. ‘What’s goin’ on, eh? Whatcha up to, Rat?’

‘Nothin’,’ said the boy rudely.

Kieran exploded. ‘Nothin’? Nothin’? I’ll give yer nothin’! Yer in a gang, now? Is that what yer doin’ with yer time? Hangin’ with gangs? Well, ’ere’s some nothin’ for yer gang!’

With that, he clouted the boy on the side of the head. Rat said nothing, but continued to glare at him angrily. ‘Tell me, Rat! What yer been doin’, then?’

‘I ain’t in no gang,’ said the boy, looking up at him sulkily.

‘Yer lyin ter me now? Think I’m blind, eh? What’s what on yer arm?’

‘Nothin’,’ said Rat.

‘Nothin’? I’ll give yer some more nothin’!’

‘Hold on,’ said Colby. He looked at the boy. ‘Turn out your pockets, lad.’

‘Why?’ said the boy immediately.

‘Do it!’ roared Kieran.

Sullenly, Rat complied, emptying out his pockets one by one. By the end of it, he’d produced a string, a crude truncheon, an assorted collection of odds and ends and about a dozen or so small, flat stones. Kieran went red in the face the moment he saw them.

‘Ah! Where d’ya get those, eh?’