My first instinct was to phone you, but there was no response. I tried again. It rang out. I climbed the steps to your door but realized I didn’t know your flat number. Though, thankfully, it all became irrelevant, as they once again shot past and disappeared around the corner.

Relieved, shaken, I came down the steps, my cigarette wobbling as I returned it to my mouth. But I’d only taken a few strides before I heard the click, click, click of bicycle chains behind me.

I dropped my head, carried on.

‘Did he dump you?’ The words came from my left.

I could hear the squeak of the wheels adjacent to me, but I didn’t stop, look. Just prayed that would be it. That if I ignored them, they’d get bored, fuck off again. But the noise increased before coming to a halt as they straddled their bikes on the pavement a few feet in front of me. I stopped. Stayed still. Glanced back at the old boy, now approaching the canopied entrance of his flats.

They separated. They were now aware of him and it was my fault. I looked round in despair to see one of them slowly riding towards him.

The other closed in on me. Metal between his legs, toes on the ground, he walked the bike my way. Stopped inches from my body. Up close, his skin was dry, pallid.

‘Were you crap at blowjobs? You can practise on me if you like.’ His hands gripped the handles like a kid pretending to ride a motorbike.

I looked straight into his bloodshot eyes.

‘Hey, I don’t like being ignored,’ he spoke from his cracked lips.

My heart pumped so hard I felt it in my ears. ‘I’ve . . . I’ve already called the police.’

He laughed. ‘No, you haven’t. I’ll come quickly, don’t worry.’ Leaning in, he removed the ash-heavy cigarette from my fingers and smoked it.

I attempted to walk around him, but he blocked me with his bike. ‘Please . . . please leave me alone.’ I looked back towards the canopy. Old Boy was about to climb the steps, unaware that Shit Two had abandoned his bike on the pavement and was behind him. I closed my eyes. Willed you to help. Anyone to help.

‘Hey, Granddad. Have you bought me something nice?’ I could hear.

‘Tell your friend to leave him alone.’ But I’d barely trembled out my words when Old Boy was pushed over and sprawled against the steps, his hat cascading down towards the pavement along with a waterfall of oranges and a jar, which smashed, then oozed a thick black substance.

‘Sorry, Gramps . . . I didn’t see you there.’

Both shits laughed.

‘Is that your granddad?’ Shit One asked.

An orange rolled into the road.