‘Is that right?’

‘No. But the consolation prize is that the Home Secretary would like you in Calais speaking to the French. Tomorrow, seven pm.’

‘So this was all just a formality? The meeting was going to happen whether I liked it or not?’

‘What do you want me to say, Ortley?’

‘Her mother will never agree to this,’ Bish said. ‘Bee will never agree to this.’

‘They’re not the ones making the decisions.’ Grazier was searching through the cupboards now. ‘Where the fuck’s your green tea?’

Despite himself, Jamal can’t resist Haversham Park. His best memories come from that footy field down on Hoxton Bridge Road. He can see the kids out there training under the floodlights, while the wind carries the old guy’s threats from across the field. Nothing has changed after all.

In the stands he recognises Robbie Tannous, with a few less pounds on him, and Alfie with a few pounds more. And the rest of the lads. Boys he knew as a kid, now grown men. Davie Kennedy. Charbel Bechara. The Ayoub cousins, whom he could never tell apart. They stand up when he arrives and he realises they’re here tonight for him.

Robbie wordlessly embraces him. Alfie calls, ‘Jim-my,’ in that singsong voice Jamal and the boys always used to greet one another. One by one the lads step forward to shake his hand.

Alfie takes out an envelope, a wad of bulging notes. ‘For you.’

Jamal stares at them all. Sees the guilt on their faces. He shakes his head. ‘I don’t need that. I’m doing fine over there.’

‘It’s legit,’ one of the Ayoub cousins says.

‘It’s clean, brother,’ Robbie says. ‘For Noor’s kid. If they arrest little Violette, you make sure she’s got the best to take care of her.’

Jamal’s overwhelmed, not wanting to insult them with a refusal. So he mumbles a thanks and takes the envelope. Beyond his childhood circle he can see his coach. Even when Jamal was a kid Bill looked ancient.

‘He’s getting old and tired of the little tossers coming through, yeah,’ Robbie says.

‘Bigger tossers than us?’ Jamal asks.

‘If you want to meet tossers you should see some of the kids I’m teaching.’

Jamal makes his way towards Bill. It would be disrespectful to let the old guy come to him. He tries not to think of father figures because that will remind him of his own father, Louis. And what he did. But Bill had been a father figure. He had come to Jamal’s house when he was six and told his parents their son had a gift. There are times in Calais when Jamal finds himself threatening the kids he coaches with words that came out of Bill’s mouth.

They don’t speak for a while. Just watch the younger lads warm up. Alfie is shouting out some inane advice and his brother is telling him to shut up.

‘I thought they weren’t letting you back in,’ Bill finally says.