Inside, the room is warmed by several gas heaters but has not quite shrugged off the smell of damp. Dotted around the room are several tables with a few stools at each, their coverings as worn as the carpet. At least one stool at each table is occupied. In all, there are about twenty people here. I sit with Alan and Vince at a table against the left-hand wall. At the front of the room, a small group of five or six men huddle around two of the other tables that they’ve pushed together; there’s a sheet of paper spread out on the table, and they keep pointing at it. One of the men is Carl.

Seeing Carl up there, I feel suddenly that Dana was right, in a way. I try to remember that feeling of power that came from looking at the websites, the frog memes, but it’s not there anymore. It’s different, somehow, in real life. And I don’t know what Vince would do if I just left. Or Carl. I tell myself that I owe this to Dad. But something in my stomach is saying I need to get out.

I mutter something about needing a piss and follow the toilet signs down a narrow corridor that smells even worse than the meeting room. Luckily, the toilet’s empty, and I sit down in the one cubicle. The lock’s broken, and the door opens outwards, so I have to hold it closed. Hopefully, I think, I’ll have a few minutes to myself to get my head together. To man up a bit.

But I’m out of luck.

A man comes in, whistling. He makes straight for the urinal and lets out a loud sigh. I try to keep as quiet as I can. There’s only a thin plastic panel between us.

‘How you doin’ in there fella?’

He can’t be talking to me, can he?

‘First time nerves is it? Don’t worry, Son, You’ll be alright. Saw you come in.’

He is talking to me. My heart is pounding in my ears.

‘These lads are alright, Kid. Best bunch I’ve met to tell the truth. Especially Carl. He’s a diamond. Bit scary to look at though, eh?’ He laughs a laugh that turns into a cough.

I hear his fly zipper, then a moment later the tap starts running.

‘Look, I’ll tell you a story.’

The loud moan of the hand drier starts up. Then stops.

‘First time I came here I was like you. Unsure, nervous, all that stuff. Wasn’t sure why I’d bothered, tell the truth. I drink downstairs see, and was just a bit curious I guess. So I wandered up here one night to see what was up.’

There’s a creak as the man leans on the frame of the cubicle, his voice closer to the door.