Jack stands back as Callum eases the forklift towards the pallet. The forks slip in, the motor whines, the pallet shifts. The load of timber creaks, moves against itself.

‘That’s how you do it!’

Callum laughs.

‘Slip it in the back before she notices.’

Jack walks round to where the next pallet is waiting. He checks it, notes the numbers on the invoice. Waits.

The drone of the forklift grows louder again. Callum steers a wide arc across the concrete yard. He lets out a whoop. Jack watches him in silence.

Later, they sit, backs to the chain-link fence in the corner behind a delivery.

‘Some sharks are six metres long,’ says Jack. ‘Seen it on the telly.’

Callum leans back, his eyes closed into the sun.

‘That’s here to where the forklift is.’

Jack pushes his T-shirt sleeves high onto his shoulders. They are satisfyingly brown. He glances over his shoulder.

‘All right.’

Aaron walks up on the other side of the fence. He grins into the sun as he comes out from the shaded path. The yard backs onto an area of scrub that leads down to the river. He pulls at his trousers, crouches. Hooks fingers into the fence.

‘What a fucking surprise,’ says Callum.

Aaron pulls a joint from his pocket, settles down with his back against the fence. Lights it.

‘When’s your model sister coming home then?’ asks Callum.

‘I don’t know.’

‘When she does, tell her she’s getting a smashing.’

Aaron sucks at the joint, the hollows in his cheeks deep and shadowed.

‘Did you see that picture of her in the magazine?’

Jack nods.

‘She never fucking looked like that before.’

‘She’s OK,’ says Jack. ‘She’s fucking skinny, though.’

‘Might break,’ says Callum. He grins. ‘You didn’t ever go there, did you?’

‘Come on,’ says Jack. ‘It’s his fucking sister.’

‘So what it’s his fucking sister! Everyone’s someone’s sister.’

They lapse into silence.

‘Your sister fucking reeks,’ says Jack.

‘Prick,’ says Callum.

‘Had to wash my hands in fucking bleach.’

‘Fuck off.’

Aaron passes the joint to Callum. He draws.

Jack leans back. Cranes his head towards the boy.

‘You ever got any?’

Aaron smiles shyly.

‘Come on. Finger or two?’

Aaron makes an odd movement with his head, like he wants to nod, but he can’t stop himself shaking it.

Jack winks. ‘It’ll happen. Just slip one in one day. Some girl, short skirt. Slip it in.’ He wiggles a finger, hooked over. ‘Keep it bent. Like fishing. Then they can’t wriggle off.’

Callum bursts out in a peal of laughter.