They took their coats and walked through the dusk amid a restless, chilling drizzle that caught the city lights like fireflies. Pearly had to slow his pace to match that of David, who moved circumspectly, careful to sidestep the puddles as if they were pools of ominous, immeasurable depth. From the various possibilities within the mall they reduced the choices until they were left with just two: a small Thai restaurant that also offered takeaways, and a larger place selling burgers, soups and chips, the tables and chairs of which fanned out into the mall thoroughfare. Pearly quite liked Thai food, but David was apprehensive. He didn’t want to take any risk on foreign food, not with his stomach the way it was, so they both had tomato soup and a pottle of chips. The mall wasn’t packed, but a good many of the tables were occupied, and noise reverberated distractingly in the wide, roofed space. The sounds of talking, laughing, of walking, of the pushing back and drawing in of chairs, the clatter from the open kitchen, and behind it all a persistent undertone of air conditioning, devices, fading noise from the street. A couple of sparrows table-hopped, seeming quite familiar with the garish interior.

The chips were okay, but Pearly was disappointed with his tomato soup. Helen made good soup from their own tomatoes. He would rather have been at home with her than sitting in a mall on a cold night with a companion who had little to say for himself and was preoccupied with his health. At the next table was an olive-skinned man with a face and a beard that made him look like a Spanish conquistador, but he wore dirty sneakers and a leather jacket too big for him. There was no food before him on the table, and he fiddled with a mobile phone but looked over often at David and Pearly. When David had stopped eating and pushed his remaining chips aside, the man leant towards him. ‘I could do with those chips if you’re finished with them, mate,’ he said. The tone wasn’t ingratiating, not even particularly friendly, but rather as if David had been remiss in not offering the food earlier. When the pottle was pushed towards him, the man reached over and claimed it without thanks. He finished the remaining chips quickly, with intense concentration, and then leant forward again, this time towards Pearly. ‘What about you?’ he said.

‘What about me?’ said Pearly.

‘Any chips left?’

‘No.’

‘I’m having a real bad patch,’ the conquistador said, unabashed. ‘People who owed me have let me down. I’ve got this condition that means I can’t work, and you can’t survive on the benefit, not with rents and that. It’s a bugger of a thing and painful with it.’