It was like communion wine mixed with vinegar. It was disgusting wank. But Nicks was watching, so Matty drank again, and again, trying to keep the gaps short.

‘Shit for brains,’ Nicks said. ‘Why are you drinking something you don’t like?’

‘I do like it.’

He sent over a look that was much older suddenly, his eyebrows coming in sharply towards each other. ‘Sing me a song.’

‘I don’t know any songs.’

‘Liar. Massive liar.’ Drops of water were drying on Nicks’s skin, golden and green.

‘Can’t sing.’

‘I can’t sing. Who gives a monkey-dick-fuck?’

Matty mumbled something.

‘What’s that? Can’t hear you.’

More mumbling.

‘You’re just saying the words.’

‘They’re supposed to be said. They’re rap. MC-ing.’

‘MC for Mental Case. Go on, do a bit more rap.’

Neck going hot, Matty did a few lines learnt from Gegsy’s mixtape.

There was a long pause, before Nicks burst out laughing. ‘That is hysterics.’ His shoulders shook. It didn’t even matter that he was laughing. It was nice.

‘Do you want to come and watch TV at my house?’ The words rushed out.

‘What?’ Nicks was still laughing, little dying-away ones, as he scraped at the underside of a stone.

‘TV. At my house.’

‘Nah.’

It was ridiculous to press further, ask him to come to Golders Green, sit in the lounge. Mamma would just stare at him funny, anyway. She’d think he was a weirdo. But it was disappointing, how uninterested he was – maybe it was just a convenience, Matty being around. He was just waiting until someone better came along.

‘Ah yeah, that’s the shitbomb,’ Nicks said, suddenly jumping up and immediately squatting on his heels. ‘Wanna do something different?’

‘Like what?’

‘You’ll see. Meet you at midnight.’

‘But – I can’t come out that late.’

Nicks stuck a finger up his nose and dug something out of it. ‘Who has to know?’

He watched as Matty finished the bottle, stomach gurgling. He didn’t seem very impressed. It probably wasn’t the right time to pull out the last two Silk Cut cigarettes and Dad’s lighter from the rucksack.

‘Pondwater for me,’ he said, and waddled down to the edge on his haunches before falling face-first in the water, his legs staying bent, feet in the air. He was doing it on purpose, trying to be funny. He could tell something wasn’t right, even more than normal.

‘That is disgusting.’ Matty’s stomach was burning.

Nicks rolled over, spitting out water in a plume. It was shallow enough for him to sit up, and he plunged an arm down, bringing it out covered in mud – dark, gloopy stuff that dripped from his palm. In a quick movement, he swiped it all over his face.

Matty burst out laughing. It was the first time in ages. Ages and ages. Since before Dad. It was the funniest thing.