‘It was my mum actually. But it was ages ago, early 2000s. I’ve got photos.’ He puts Jenga down and goes in his rucksack to get out the envelope. He wipes his hands along his jeans before taking out the photos and handing them to Simeon.

‘Oh, the house, it looks different. Cleaner,’ Simeon laughs. ‘This is how I remember it.’ He turns over the next photo, the one of Mum caught mid-laugh with a toddler’s hand on her cheek. Kiama has decided this is his favourite, because she looks so pretty in it, and the way her T-shirt is bunched up makes it look like she’s got a bump.

‘Did you live here then?’ Yvonne asks Simeon.

‘Yes. I was one of the first children to live here,’ he smiles and stops on a photo. ‘This one is me,’ he laughs. ‘You have a photo of me.’

Kiama doesn’t know what to say. He takes it from Simeon’s hand and stares at it. This can’t be true. That the little kid in the photo is now standing here in front of them.

Simeon laughs again and it’s almost annoying, like he’s got one up on Kiama because he spent time with her.

‘That’s incredible,’ Yvonne says. ‘Can you believe it? That’s Simeon.’

But he doesn’t want it to be Simeon in the photograph, Simeon having one of Mum’s hugs, Simeon making Mum smile. It should be him. He puts the photos back into the envelope and zips them away in the bag.

‘I’m sorry I don’t remember your mother,’ Simeon says. ‘What happened to her?’

Kiama studies Simeon’s sandals, how thin the soles look as if worn down, how the Velcro straps don’t quite close.

‘She died when I was eight.’

‘Who raised you after you lost her?’

Kiama looks up. Simeon is only two years older than him, but lines appear on his face with each expression. His life here must be hard and small, so small. Yet Kiama can’t stop his feelings of jealousy.

‘I moved back to England. My dad and nana brought me up.’

‘Then you are lucky, that you had your family.’ He reaches out to shake Kiama’s hand. ‘Will you come again? The children would like it very much.’

Kiama looks down at Jenga, who is now sitting on the ground, playing with the rucksack, running the zip back and forth.

This place has something and despite his confused feelings towards Simeon, being here is the closest he’s felt to Mum since arriving. ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I would love to come back.’