They’d reached room twelve by this time. ‘Daniel, you’re directly across the hall. Toilets and showers are at the end. Showers are kept locked, so you have to get a key from the office and return it when you’re finished.’

‘Right,’ Daniel said.

He threw his stuff into a room with a small window, a fold-down desk and a metal locker. It looked modern, but there was an oniony tang from the previous occupant and the window only opened inwards by about four centimetres.

Leon stuck his head around the door. ‘Not exactly spacious,’ he said, then wrinkled his nose. ‘It stinks like BO in here.’

‘I noticed,’ Daniel said sourly.

Out in the hallway, the sobbing girl was being led into room nine. A female social worker spoke in a soothing voice.

‘Abigail, you’ll only be here for a night or two, until you get a foster placement in a proper house. OK?’

She sobbed, and gave a weak nod.

‘I’m just down the hall until seven, and I’ll introduce you to the night staff before I clock off.’

As the twins unpacked, a few other noises started to break out. The twins could see into each other’s rooms if they left their doors open and they saw kids coming past in school uniform. Most were fourteen to seventeen, but there were a couple of pre-teens.

Daniel was hunting for a socket to charge his phone when he saw Oliver shoot past. Their target used the toilet, dropped into room thirteen next to Leon and came out a minute later having swapped school gear for trackies and an Aston Villa shirt.

‘Hey, neighbour,’ Leon said.

‘Hey,’ Oliver replied, but didn’t break stride.

The twins had seen photos, but were still surprised by Oliver’s presence. He was average height for twelve, with a light brown complexion. But his build gave him the air of a little thug. Big neck, broad shoulders, thick arms, and legs stretching his Nike tracksuit bottoms to bursting.

‘I’m Leon,’ Leon said, as he trailed Oliver. ‘Do you know where I can get soap and a towel?’

‘Call me Oli,’ the twelve-year-old said, staring Leon up and down, seeing a well-muscled kid with a medium build and blond streaks in his hair. ‘Ask in the office,’ he said impatiently.

‘Right,’ Leon said.

At the end of the hallway, Oliver cut into the TV room. The only kid in there was on floor-cushions using an ancient Xbox 360, still in his school uniform. He looked older than Oliver, but was beanpole thin.

‘Wes the weasel,’ Oliver said fiercely. ‘You got my money?’

‘I don’t owe you money.’

‘You reckon?’ Oliver said, pounding a fist into his palm as he closed in. ‘Gimme a fiver.’

Skinny Wes dropped the Xbox controller and raised his arms over his face. ‘I haven’t got any money.’