‘Link,’ I said. I’d seen this signpost earlier. Thameslink. It’s a railway.

‘Oh, aye?’ he said, meaning I don’t believe you but it’s not heavy. ‘Got a fag on you, Link?’

‘Don’t smoke.’ For once I wished I did.

He laughed again. ‘You will.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Been hungry, have you? I mean, really hungry?’

‘No.’

‘No. Well, when you are, smoking helps. Dulls the pain a bit.’

‘Ah. You hungry now, Ginger?’

‘Bit. Why – you got grub?’

‘Got a Snicker in my pack. D’you want it?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘No. Not hungry.’ This wasn’t completely true, but I thought perhaps I’d found a friend and I wanted to hang on to him. I opened my pack and groped about till I found the bar. ‘Here.’

‘Ta, mate. Sure you don’t want it?’

‘No.’

‘Half?’

‘No – you eat it.’ I buckled my pack and lay with my eyes closed, listening to him eat. He was pretty hungry at that. You could tell. When he’d finished he said, ‘’S better. G’night, Link.’

‘Night, Ginger.’

And that’s how I met Ginger.

I must have slept, because the next thing I knew somebody was nudging me none too gently in the back, saying ‘Come on, sunshine – let’s have you.’ I opened my eyes and instantly screwed them shut as torchlight lanced into them. My first thought was that Ginger had changed his mind and wanted me out of his bedroom, but then my mind cleared and I knew it was the police. I sat up. It was still dark, and bitterly cold as I began to peel off my sleeping-bag.

There were two officers – a man and a woman. Once they’d got us awake they stood back and watched while we rolled our bags and strapped them to our packs. ‘Don’t forget that,’ grunted the guy, shining his torch on the screwed-up wrapper from my Snicker. Ginger picked it up and shoved it in his pocket. I thought they were going to arrest us or something, but as soon as we were packed and on our feet they moved off, shining their torches into doorways as they went.

‘What time is it?’ I asked as we stood, dazed with cold and sleep in the orange light of a streetlamp.

Ginger shook his head. ‘Dunno. About six, probably.’

‘Why’d they do that? Get us up, I mean.’

‘Why?’ He grimaced. ‘We were in somebody’s doorway. Wouldn’t do for the owner or tenant or whatever to find us here when he came to open up, would it?’

I couldn’t think of any answer to that, so I said, ‘What now?’

He looked at me. ‘You got any money?’

I nodded. ‘Nine quid and some change.’

‘Fancy a coffee – bite to eat?’

‘Not half.’ I was starving. ‘You?’