‘It’s heavy, but you look a big strong boy.’ I moved up. ‘Squash in.’

He moved across the aisle and sat beside me. ‘Wow.’ His breath smelt of chocolate.

We crawled along. I kept my fingers lightly on the lower rim of the wheel, to steady it. He leant forward—he had to stretch across the gap—and gripped the wheel. Now it was happening, I felt like some other father with somebody else’s son; I wasn’t used to it. ‘The wheel swings a bit,’ I said, ‘before it engages.’

‘We’re so high up,’ he said.

‘We’re kings of the road!’

Ahead of us, fireworks exploded into the sky; stars shot off in all directions.

‘It’s a bit of a pigsty,’ I said. ‘I’ve been driving it for a week.’

‘Wish it was light,’ he said, ‘and my friends could see me.’

I wondered if anyone would ever hear what had happened to me, this past eight days; probably not. I remembered Butler, hiding behind the seats.

‘I’ve met some old mates of yours,’ I said. ‘Though you’d probably not remember them. Turn left.’

I slowed down, and he turned the wheel. We drove up the adjoining street to Leaps Road, and crawled once more around the block.

‘Where did you like living best?’ I asked.

He shrugged. We turned left, into his own street. I took the wheel from him and parked the coach.

‘Reading, Spalding?’ I asked. ‘Here?’

‘I liked living with Aunty Bun.’

‘Hilda?’ I switched off the engine. There was silence. He stayed sitting beside me.

‘Wish I still lived with Hildy,’ he said.

‘Why?’

He shrugged, and pulled at a loose thread in his trousers. ‘She cooked nice things, and she always had time. She liked watching TV with me.’ He wiped his nose. ‘She mended my clothes. She knew all the names of my friends. She wasn’t on the phone all the time.’

‘What about your Mum?’

He pulled a face.

‘Well?’ I asked.

He sighed, and said: ‘She’s all right.’

There was a silence. Behind one of the houses there was a red glow; someone had lit a bonfire.

‘It’s just—’ He stopped.

‘What?’

‘There’s never anything in the fridge.’ He sniffed. ‘And she took away my gun.’

Hilda was frying sausages, with Vicky helping.

‘This place!’ she said. ‘There was nothing here. We had to buy these at the corner shop, didn’t we, Vicks?’

‘Where’s Lesley?’ I asked.

‘She doesn’t like the smell,’ said Edward. ‘She’s a vegetarian.’

He started unpacking the box. He laid the fireworks on the table, gloatingly, grading them according to size.