He limped into the living room. There was a rich fetid smell and he held his breath. He knew what it was. He’d smelled it often. Davo stayed over most nights, and often he’d shit himself. James thought it smelled worse than it should have, as though Davo was rotting from the inside. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if he was. All he consumed were endless cups of tea and cigarettes, the occasional box of fried chicken, and as much narcotics – opiate pills, heroin, methadone – as he could lay his hands on.

It was a diet he shared with James and Carl.

James hobbled – the pain was getting worse – into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. The flat was cold. They had not paid their gas bill for a few months so there was no heating. He flicked on the kettle. They still had electricity, but it was only a matter of time before that was gone. Davo knew someone who worked at the electric company and had persuaded her to help out, but eventually she would not be able to put off the inevitable.

He grabbed a teabag and a mug and poured in the water. There was no milk, and when he sipped it the hot liquid scalded the top of his mouth. It didn’t matter. It’d hurt for a while but the drugs would take care of it later.

If he could get some. Carl still had a job, washing vans for a friend he used to play football with. He didn’t work much, but his friend didn’t care. If he showed up for a few hours there were always vans to be washed and he could scrape together enough cash to buy what he needed. Davo didn’t work but he left the flat most days and came back with drugs he had got from somewhere – stolen or begged, James never knew which, and never asked.

James though, he only had one source of cash.

He felt in his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He would have sold it long ago but he knew he needed it. He tapped out a message.

Want to meet up later?

His dad replied almost instantly.

Of course. How are you?

OK. Farmers’ Arms in Padgate at 11?

How about a coffee instead? Costa in town? 11 is good.

Whatever. He’d been hoping for a few beers to take the edge off, but coffee it was.

Sure. See you there.

2

His dad was sitting at a table when he arrived, two coffees in front of him. There was a sandwich next to one of them. He was reading something on his phone, and when he saw James he stood up.

He looked him up and down. Took in the dirty jeans. The torn coat.

He held out his arms. ‘Come here,’ he said.