‘Thomas would have been sixteen tomorrow.’

‘Jesus, I’m so sorry.’

She paused, looking out through the side window.

‘Sixteen. My little man! I wonder what he would have grown up to be?’

Joe counted his breaths, unsure what to say.

‘A soldier, I reckon,’ she said, turning to look straight ahead, across the rows of parked cars. ‘Something outdoors, anyway. We used to take him to a park near his school. There was a little café, a shack really. It served ice cream. He’d play there for hours, whatever the weather. The cold never bothered him. When he fell he never complained. Never cried. Tough little bugger. He loved ice cream.’

As she spoke, she was watching two young lads, a couple of rows down. One was a lot taller than the other, but it was the short, scrawny one that caught Joe’s attention.

‘Who knows,’ she said, ‘he might’ve turned out like that!’

There was a heightened casualness in the way the smaller boy moved, a presumption. His face was angelic yet threatening, the skin around his eyes pulled tight, as if his humanity was a mask, something far older than his years.

They sat and watched as the boys made their way through the rows of cars, taking what appeared to be a deliberately indirect route.

‘They’re not…’ Joe said, intrigued. ‘They’re not gonna steal one, are they?’

The smaller of the two walked down the side of a black Subaru, dragging something along it as he went.

‘He’s keying it!’

Then, as he got to the side mirror, his young body swung into the car with a well-practiced jerk. A second later the mirror was hanging from the door, and the boys were walking away.

‘Shall I nick him?’ He watched as the kids wandered off, not a hint of haste in their movements. ‘I mean, why would he even do that?’

‘’Cos he’s no good,’ she whispered.

‘You know him?’

‘Yep. A wrong ’un, as they say. It’s the evil gene, Joe.’

‘That’s a bit strong, don’t you think? What is he, eleven?’

‘Thirteen. Go chase after him. You’ll see.’

‘Will I?’

‘You’ll see it immediately. A flicker of badness. It’ll make you shudder.’

He watched as the boys disappeared into the supermarket, shoving each other, messing about, the Subaru’s broken side mirror already forgotten.

Meanwhile, Chris was looking at Joe. She was smiling, and it was a patronizing smile, as though she pitied his ignorance. There was a tear hanging on one of her eyelids, just waiting to fall.

‘It’s like the clever ones, y’know? The really bright kids at school?’

‘I don’t follow.’