“A Star Trek fan,” Valkyrie said. “Well, you can go back to painting the Enterprise, Rose Matthews, and you don’t have to give our conversation another thought. You can ignore us completely, in fact. You have a good day now.”

“Have a good day,” Mrs Matthews mumbled, and walked back into the house.

Omen glanced at Valkyrie. “I wish I could do that. They don’t teach it in school.”

“With good reason,” Valkyrie said, stepping back as Byron Grace came down the stairs. He saw Omen and frowned, but when his gaze flickered to Valkyrie he froze.

“You don’t have to worry,” Omen said quickly. “We just want to talk. Byron, this is—”

“I know who she is,” Byron said in an accent as thick as his mother’s. “Am I … am I under arrest?”

Valkyrie shook her head. “Like Omen said, we just want to talk. Could you step outside?”

“I … I can’t. They’ll kill me.”

“A lot of lives are in danger, Byron. There’s a reason you didn’t go with the rest of them, isn’t there? It’s because you don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

“Look, just leave me alone, OK? You shouldn’t even be here. This is my home. You’re not supposed to come to my home. My mam doesn’t know about any of this stuff.”

“And she still doesn’t,” Valkyrie said. “Step outside. Please.”

Byron hesitated, then did as she asked, closing the door behind him. “Around here,” he muttered, leading them away from the road to the side of the house. They passed two recycling bins and emerged in the back garden. Clothes hung limply on a rotary dryer, and a high wall blocked off the sun.

Byron turned to Omen. “You going to tell people?”

“About what?” Omen asked.

Byron laughed without humour, and spread his arms. “This. Where I live. About my mam. About how I really talk.”

“No,” said Omen. “God, no. I did the same thing when I joined Corrival, or at least I tried. I thought I could reinvent myself, but you … you’ve actually done it. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I just … I prefer being, y’know … Byron.” He stood up straighter, and his accent changed, though the look of hurt in his eyes remained. “I’ve always hated living here. I’ve hated living with them. My dad’s OK – he organised for me to go to Corrival once he figured out what I was. But my mother … She doesn’t care who I am or where I’m going. You know what I realised? She doesn’t like it when I’m happy. Isn’t that awful? My own mother doesn’t like it when I’m happy.”

“Is that why you joined up with Jenan and the others?” Omen asked.