Neither of his parents had ever been traced, and he had been nicknamed Chico by one of the policemen due to his small size and curly hair—after the diminutive curly-haired Chico, one of the Marx Brothers.

The name had simply stuck, and was now official.

Many years ago, I’d spoken to him about being abandoned, suggesting that, with new DNA techniques, it might now be possible to trace his parents.

‘For what?’ he’d said. ‘As a youngster, I was always very angry with them for discarding me, just as if I’d been a bag of unwanted clothes left at a charity shop. But by the time I was about twenty, I had finally worked that anger out of my system. So why would I want to reignite it again now? So they could beg my forgiveness and I could absolve them of their guilt? Don’t make me bleedin’ laugh.’

And we had never discussed the matter again.

‘Is the arthritis very bad?’ I asked.

‘Nah, nothing that a few Advil don’t fix. At least I’m still able to do my job.’

Chico taught PE and judo at a comprehensive school in Tottenham, north London.

‘Aren’t you on your Easter break?’

‘Starts later today. Two whole weeks away from the bleedin’ juvenile delinquents. What joy!’

‘Do you fancy a holiday job?’

‘Doing what?’ He sounded wary.

‘Bodyguarding.’

‘Who’s the target?’

‘I am.’

‘Not upset another bleedin’ terrorist, have you?’

‘Something similar. What do you say?’

‘Are you being serious?’

‘Deadly.’

‘Please don’t use that word. Not after last time.’

‘Sorry. But yes, I’m being perfectly serious. I need you.’

‘Do you have a client?’ he asked.

‘Several.’

‘So you’re getting paid then?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Come on, Sid. How many times do I need to tell yer, you must have a bleedin’ client to pick up the tab. All this “pro bono” stuff is stupid.’

I laughed. He’d pronounced it Bono, like the singer.

‘I will pay you though,’ I said. ‘If you’ll come.’

‘How much?’

‘How much do you want?’

There was a short pause.

‘Come on, you old bugger, you know I’ll do it for nothing. Nothing other than a bit of fun, and to spend some time with you. I’ll need my keep, mind.’

‘It’s a deal. When can you start? How about today?’

‘Sorry, mate. I’m on a promise for tonight. Nice Swedish bird who fancies me rotten.’

‘Can’t you put her off?’

‘Put her off?’ he sounded incredulous. ‘You must be bleedin’ joking. Not all of us has a nice sexy wife like yours on call for a bit of nookie whenever you want it.’

Little did he know.

‘And I’ve been working hard on this beauty for weeks.’

‘Tomorrow then,’ I said. ‘Early.’

‘Okay, unless tonight goes better than expected.’

‘And what is expected?’ I asked, laughing.

‘That’s none of your bleedin’ business.’