Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
‘I do like it, you know?’
‘Like what?’
We’re standing at the end of the alley when she grabs my hand. ‘When you look at me.’
She doesn’t let go, and we slip back into the flow of people.
As casually as possible, we pass between the rows of market stalls with their blue-striped awnings and tables full of products; cellophane bags done up with red tape, gloves and hats in baskets, crates of light bulbs, ten-packs of tights. I’ve never been so alert to the sights and smells as my head darts this way and that. I bridle a few times as a shaved head emerges from the crowd, and I try to match them with the images of the other men I saw just a few months ago in the upstairs room of the Crown – the men who loom at me in my dreams. But these men don’t match those pictures: they are men pushing prams, walking with their wives or girlfriends, or escorting their mothers around the stalls.
I stop in my tracks as one man, who’s angry look I think is aimed at me, turns to the small girl who is holding his hand, ‘The toilets are this way, love. Can you hold on a minute?’ And just like that, his anger melts into concern. I need to relax.
‘Josh?’
I don’t recognise the voice. Not at first.
It belongs to a man with a kind face, standing behind a market stall of bagged-up pet food. But there’s a kind of reaching look in his eyes.
‘It is Josh, isn’t it? How’ve you been, Kid?’
He’s wearing a blue jumper. It’s the same unravelling blue jumper he wore when we first met. It’s Dan. I flashback to what Carl said about him not running away. The nightmare visions. But Dan looks … fine.
‘Erm, I’m OK thanks. You?’ As soon as I heard my name called, I felt Dana’s hand slip from mine. Now she’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe that’s for the best. If Dan sees us together, who knows what will happen next.
‘Can’t complain, mate. Can’t complain. John, you OK if I have a quick break, mate?’
John is a short, black guy in a denim jacket. He gives Dan a nod, then goes back to selling bird feed to a woman next to me. Dan shuffles around the stall, wincing a bit, and it’s then that I notice the large white cast that runs from his left foot all the way up to his thigh. It’s even bigger than Jamie’s was.
‘Is that what Carl—’