I hand him twenty. I walk the rest of the way with the bags full of food banging against my legs.

When I get into Arnotts I go straight to the homeware section, buy three separate sets of the most expensive duvet covers, and throw a few smelly candles in there too. I can’t find any of those incense sticks, must ask the girls where they procure them. I’m exhausted, suddenly. It’s weird, going shopping and not having to steal anything. I consider sticking some lacy undies in my pockets but just don’t have the energy. I put my hand in my pocket to check up on my phone: blankety blank. Not even a Facebook message from Luce, but then, her phone has probably been confiscated. Sonya’s put up a stupid bikini shot on Snapchat. Pathetic. That girl is so desperate for attention. Brian told me it was never a good idea to post shit like that around: ‘Lowers the value of the stock’, or something like that.

I haven’t been gone that long, so no need to panic, just yet. But then … just who will panic? Mother will have an eppie when she realises she’s been stolen from, then she’ll relish that call to Dad. ‘See, William, see! What trouble we’ve raised? It’s all your fault for never being home. A girl needs her father …’

I go outside, looking up and down at the cabbies’ faces. I’m going to make a statement against the racist assholes that make up most of this country. Because I won’t get into the car at the front of the queue, all sorts of angry honking starts. Look, Mother: another commotion, and I’m the cause of it. Spectacular! It turns out that number two in the queue is Polish, or from somewhere like that. He gets out and starts shouting what I can only imagine are colourful expletives at me, shaking his fist. Oh ok, mister, whatever you say, mister, of course I’ll get in the car with you, I’m sorry for upsetting you, mister. Not bloody likely. What is wrong with these guys? That kind of approach is hardly going to generate any new business. I store that nugget, for later.