Mum isn’t surprised. She never is any more. I think she actually accepts our stupidity as something she just can’t change. Yet she still asks the question. ‘What were they doing in your room?’ However, she walks away. I don’t think she really wants to hear the answer.

When Dad arrives, we don’t ask where he’s been.

Steve comes in and gives us a shock by saying, ‘How y’ goin’ lads?’

‘All right. You?’

‘Good.’ Even though he still watches Dad with contempt, wishing he’d get the dole or Job Search payments or whatever you please to call it. He soon changes clothes and goes out.

Sarah comes in eating a banana Paddlepop. She smiles and gives us both a bite. We don’t ask for one, but she knows. She can see our snouts itching for the gorgeous sickly cold of an iceblock in winter.

Next day, Rube and I begin training.

We get up early and run. It’s dark when the alarm goes off and we take a minute or two to get out of bed, but once out, we’re okay. We run together in track pants and old football jerseys and the city is awake and smoky-cold and our heartbeats jangle through the streets. We’re alive. Our footsteps are folded neatly, one after the other. Rube’s curly hair collides with sunlight. The light steps at us between the buildings. The train line is fresh and sweet and the grass in Belmore Park has the echoes of dew still on it. Our hands are cold. Our veins are warm. Our throats suck in the winter breath of the city, and I imagine people still in bed, dreaming. To me, it feels good. Good city. Good world, with two wolves running through it, looking for the fresh meat of their lives. Chasing it. Chasing hard, even though they fear it. They run anyway.

‘Y’ awake Rube?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Jeez, I’m a bit sore, ay. This runnin’ in the mornings isn’t much chop for the ol’ legs.’

‘I know — mine are sore too.’

‘It felt good but.’

‘Yeah. It felt great.’

‘It felt like I’m not sure what. Like we’ve finally got something. Something to give us — I d’know.

I just don’t know.’

‘Purpose.’

‘What?’

‘Purpose,’ Rube continues. ‘We’ve finally got a reason to be here. We’ve got reason to be out on that street. We’re not just out there doin’ nothin’.’

‘That’s it. That’s exactly how it felt.’

‘I know.’

‘But I’m still sore as hell.’

‘Me too.’

‘So are we still runnin’ again tomorrow?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Good.’ And in the darkness of our room, a smile reaches across my lips. I feel it.

6

‘Bloody hell.’