He was suspicious. Oh, yes. He looked at me and I knew straightaway he wasn’t new to the game. ‘You got a better idea?’ he growled.

I shrugged, putting on my best apologetic grin. ‘No offence,’ I said. ‘It’s just that it’s so cold, and I wondered whether you’d tried your luck at the Plender Street hostel.’

‘There’s no hostel on Plender Street,’ he said. ‘And besides, hostels are always full up by this time.’ He gazed at me. ‘What’s it to you, anyway? What’s your game, Grandad?’

‘No game.’ I smiled my woolly-headed smile. ‘There is a hostel on Plender Street. It’s new, so not many people know about it yet. That’s why it’s not full.’

‘How do you know so much?’

‘I’m the Warden,’ I lied. ‘I run the place.’

‘Why you not there, then?’

Oh, he was canny, this one. I’d need all my talent. ‘I have to call home,’ I said. ‘Feed Sappho. We don’t live in, you see.’

‘Sappho?’

‘My cat.’

He snorted. ‘Fugging cat sleeps warmer than me. Eats better too.’ He studied me. ‘So you run this hostel?’

‘Right.’

‘And it’s not full?’

‘Not when I left.’

‘Gotta be a catch.’ He looked at me sidelong. ‘How much?’

I shook my head. ‘Nothing. No catch. It’s a free hostel. Breakfast, too.’

‘So if I go along —?’

I grinned. ‘If you go along you’ll probably be fine. If you arrive with me it’s a cert.’

‘Where d’you live, then?’

‘Not far. Mornington Place. Know it?’

He nodded. ‘I know it. Okay – I’m in, only you better be on the level. Grandad, ‘cause if you ain’t I’ll kick your tripes out.’

So he abandoned his cardboard and shouldered his pack and we walked, and as we walked we talked.

‘Whereabouts you from?’ I enquired. I didn’t give a damn where he was from – I knew exactly where he was going.

‘Leicester.’

‘Leicester? No work there, eh?’

He shook his head. ‘Six months I was, writing letters, going for interviews. No chance.’

‘So you thought you’d try London?’

‘Not straightaway. I tried the Army first.’

Well, you can be sure my ears pricked up at that. I was genuinely interested now. ‘The Army?’ I said. ‘And what happened?’

He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t stand it. Thick sods bawling at you all day long. Telling you what to do. And the grub – Jesus! So I bought myself out.’

‘Hmm – well. Not everybody’s cup of tea, the Army. Full of Fascists, I shouldn’t wonder.’ I was absolutely seething of course, but I didn’t give myself away. I was magnificent. Thick sods, indeed!

‘Dunno about Fascists,’ he said. ‘I’m not into politics, but you must have to be desperate to stay in that mob.’ He spat in the gutter. ‘Better off on the streets.’