‘Ah, righto. Fifteen. Got it. I know what that’s like. My eldest is fourteen and I’ve been having a bit of a rough time with her recently. Teenage girls, you just never know what they’re thinking, do you?’

For once, I felt entirely qualified to agree wholeheartedly.

‘Listen, Jaz, I know it’s a long shot. It’s just that the reason Wolfie ran off was sort of my fault and I’m new at this uncle business, so I want to get it right. I think she might . . . well, I’ve just got a feeling that she needs me. So I have to give it a go, you know?’

Out loud, it sounded pretty lame even to me, but on the other hand, what if my father was right? When they zig, you zag, Danny. Maybe riding around in the back of a black cab looking for a small girl in a big city was the dumbest, most pointless plan in the world, but maybe, just maybe, it was the perfect zag.

‘I’m in, Danny. Like I said, if you’re paying, I’m driving.’ Jaz pulled her door shut then looked back up at me. It seemed like she might have been going to say something, but then changed her mind at the last minute. ‘Get in, let’s go.’

I did the only thing I could think of at that moment, which apart from getting in, as ordered, was to pelt a handful of mini-Twix at her through the little slot in the partition.

‘There you go, don’t say I don’t love ya, mate. No, not . . . oh, shit. Sorry.’

But there was no time for regret as in one smooth movement, Jaz ripped open a Twix, put the whole thing in her mouth, then pulled her cap down tight and put her pedal to the metal. As fast as a black cab was permitted to go in Central London anyhow, so maybe twenty miles an hour.

And, as I sat in the back, bouncing along on a mission to cover every street in London if I needed to, every time I blinked, a lone word on Wolfie’s ceiling flashed on and off in my brain like a dodgy light bulb.

STAY

STAY

STAY

41

Wolfie

There’s a warm metal taste in my mouth and I’m looking at a concrete sky.

My breath is slow and measured. Almost like an afterthought.

The sky has rivets and it’s making a low humming sound.

It takes a few seconds to blink through the fog in my eyes and realise where I am. My sky is not the sky. I lie there listening to the hollow thud of feet on the bridge above my head and enjoy the miracle of my chest rising and falling on its own. Easy. Effortless. Nothing to see here, folks.

I’ve got no idea how long I’ve been lying here; it feels like it could be hours, but when I push off my elbows into a sitting position I see the same duck. Still there, still swimming in circles. That is, it looks like the same one, but also, seen one duck seen them all.