Marty always felt a sense of guilt around Mr. Garraway. Marty knew that he knew about his home life. Not that they’d ever talked properly about it, but information about kids like Marty was always passed on. Marty knew that. He also knew that Mr. Garraway was a nice man. Or seemed so. Marty was always wary though. In his experience, letting people in ended up with them wanting to interfere. Yes, the way they were living wasn’t ideal, but it was also all he had ever known and Mum was really, really, really doing her best. He just didn’t want anyone messing that up just now.

“Listen, Marty, I’m the middle man. You know that, don’t you, sonny? I’m the messenger. I’m the buffer, if you like, between you and the powers that be. The big, hairy-chinned powers that be, if you know what I mean and catch my drift…”

He was sounding cryptic now, and Marty had a fleeting image of him as a secret agent. A red-haired James Bond.

“Just turn some work in, will you? It’ll get ’em off your back…”

Marty nodded. “Thanks, sir.”

Marty turned to go, but Mr. Garraway had not finished with him yet.

“Have you given any thought to your choices, by the way? What you want to do?”

Marty looked at him, not following his train of thought.

“You’ll have to choose which subjects you want to carry on in soon…”

Marty looked at him. He hadn’t actually thought about this.

“Doctor? Scientist? What’s it going to be?”

“Excuse me?” Marty didn’t quite understand what he was hearing. “You think I could be those things?”

Mr. Garraway frowned.

“Marty, you’ve got a good brain on you. A good brain can take you anywhere. Anywhere in the world. It’s your responsibility to take that brain, that mind of yours, and see where it will go. Yes, you may not come from the wealthiest of places, but that doesn’t change where you can end up. You have as much a chance as anyone else in the world.”

Marty didn’t know why, but he could feel his heart beating in his chest. Grandad had told him that he could do anything he wanted, of course, but he thought that maybe Grandad was just being nice.

“Don’t box yourself in, lad. What do you like? What’s your passion?”

Marty thought a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Mr. Garraway laughed.

“You don’t know?” Mr. Garraway tilted his head to look at him. “What do you want to achieve?”

Marty stuttered. “I—I don’t know.”