They took their food and walked to the end of one of the long tables. They sat opposite each other. On Max’s left was a girl his own age. She had pale skin and blue eyes. Her brown hair was thick, shiny and straight, but dishevelled. She had a double cartilage piercing in her left ear and was very firmly focused on the plate of food in front of her. She didn’t even seem to notice Max’s arrival.

Max started to eat. The food was bland but hot. He had only swallowed a couple of mouthfuls when the girl next to him spoke.

‘I’m Abby,’ she said. Her accent was Northern Irish and very strong.

‘Hi,’ Max said. ‘I’m –’

‘You going to eat that?’

Max looked down at his bowl of food. ‘Er, yeah …’

Abby looked across the table at Sami. ‘You going to eat that?’ she asked.

Sami cradled his food protectively.

‘Ah, jeez,’ Abby said. ‘A girl could starve around here. It’s worse than being in prison.’

‘How would you know about prison?’ Max said.

Abby’s eyes tightened slightly. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Max.’

‘Well, if you change your mind about that food, Max, you give me a holler.’

She fell silent and sat watching, hawk-like, as they continued to eat their stew. Max ate a bit more quickly. He had the impression she might grab the bowl from him if he didn’t hold on to it.

He was halfway through his meal when he saw Lukas. The American boy held his bowl of stew and stood between the two long tables. He caught Max’s eye, then turned his back on him and went to sit by himself at the other table.

‘Whoa!’ Abby said. ‘Awks or what? I guess you really are going to finish that, aren’t you?’

‘I really am,’ said Max.

She stood up. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said. She took her dirty bowl and left.

‘She tried to have my breakfast too,’ Sami said. He frowned. ‘I almost gave it to her. It was something called … porridge? I didn’t like it much.’

When they had finished their meal they deposited their dirty plates on a trolley by the hotplates and headed out of the dining room. It was only as they were crossing the hallway that Max remembered something. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said to Sami. He walked up to the line of old photographs he had noticed when Woody first brought him in here, and found the one that had caught his eye: the young soldier sitting by a small fire in the jungle. The soldier looked as if he was staring right at Max. For Max, it was like looking in the mirror. The short brown hair parted on the right. The thick eyebrows and strong jawline. He found himself holding his breath as he stared.