“Oh, yes! You bought stuff for ham sandwiches! Result!”

They ate their sandwiches sitting side-by-side on the narrow stairs, leaning against each other for warmth. A dirty dormer window let in grudging amounts of light, and the stairs creaked when they moved. In the flat below, someone inside rattled impatiently at the door, then fell silent.

“Maybe they’re shut in,” said Finn. “Trapped in their flat.”

“Or maybe they’re scared.”

“Or on the run from the FBI.”

“Or from Social Services.” Ava put down her glass of water. “You know… ”

Finn nodded. “Course I know.”

“This isn’t just an adventure.”

“I know. This is real life.”

“And it’s really important we don’t do anything terrible. They’re watching. If I lose my job or get behind with the bills, or if you miss school or get into trouble, or even if the flat just gets too dirty… ”

“I really do get it, I swear.”

“I know it seems like I’m worrying about nothing but it was so hard to convince them and I know they’ll take you away again.”

“Look,” said Finn firmly. “I know all that. And I’ll do my bit. Promise. I won’t bunk off school or forget to do my homework or take up smoking or sell drugs or anything. You can give me a list of jobs to do and I’ll make sure they get done. I won’t complain.”

“I wish you didn’t have to worry about it.”

“Look, I’ll start right now. Let’s unpack.”

“We haven’t got anything to unpack into,” said Ava.

“Then let’s put boxes in the right rooms,” said Finn.

They didn’t have a television, so they opened up the rickety sash-window and perched on tea-chests and watched the raggedy stream of people pass by. As dusk fell, the colours turned murky beneath the sodium lamps and the mood of the street shifted from resigned drudgery to a brittle and violent festivity. Two floors beneath them, the takeaway did a steady business.

“This is great,” said Finn. “Hey, see that dog? It’s going to eat that big mound of dog shit the other dog’s left behind and its owner hasn’t noticed.”

“Urgh. Why do dogs do that? Look at that man there. He’s got a t-shirt that says SPAM on it.”

“I think he heard you. Quick, he’s looking round.” The man stared up at the sky as if he’d heard the voice of God. “Duck down.”

They hid beneath the windowsill, smothering their giggles.

“So what’s your job like?” Finn asked, when they were sure the SPAM man had left.

Ava shrugged. “It’s a job. I turn up. I do stuff. They pay me.”

“Yes, but what do you do?”

“Typing, filing, answering phones, making coffees. They sit around in suits looking important and smoking. I suppose they must do some actual work sometimes. But whenever I see them that’s what they’re doing. Look at that man in the Volkswagen. He’s wearing a hat. An actual trilby hat. I didn’t know you could still buy trilby hats. Do you think he inherited it?”