The chief understood and became derisive. ‘Oh, don’t want to take the nasty cash because the nice people got hurt? It doesn’t have any actual blood on it, if that’s what you’re squeamish about. It’s been used to buy newspapers and pints and now you’re going to use it to buy petrol or more fags or whatever you want.’

‘Nah, no thanks.’

‘Get a present for your kids then. Two girls, isn’t it?’ Jeremy did not want the chief talking about his daughters. ‘Nice little present or something, ’cause their dad’s been away.’

‘Listen, Frank, I—’

‘They must be sad without their daddy. They must be worried about him. They probably—’

‘Fine.’ Jeremy cut him off. ‘Fine. Give it here.’ He reached for the wad, but the chief crowed ‘Yoink!’ and jerked it away from his fingers.

Jeremy would not play the game of grabbing at it, but simply held out his hand until the chief, after a couple of feints, put the money on his palm. The chief made as if to headlock him and said, ‘Always got a gripe about something, eh, Jez? What are you doing tomorrow morning? We should have a talk.’

Jeremy wasn’t listening. His mind was full of the greasy feel of the banknotes between his fingers. He saw in his mind the pictures that had come through of the bus lying on its side like a shot racehorse, with bodies of its passengers strewn around, some already in bags. He decided to call his wife.

Managing to escape from the chief, he stumbled out of the circle and into the denser dark beneath the trees. Hidden twigs leapt to catch his arm or touch his cheek, ferns brushed his ankles and every few moments he re-blinded himself by staring into the luminous rectangle of his phone screen. There was no signal. He blundered around a little longer, swearing less and sighing more, until he gave up. His foot had knocked into a recumbent log and, after using the glow of his phone to inspect the wood for sliminess, he sat down.

He dejectedly lit another cigarette and let the darkness around him settle. The dim shapes of tree trunks and thick branches detached themselves from the surrounding blackness. He thought of taking the banknotes from his pocket and flinging them into the night, which would swallow them as if they’d never been. But it seemed a melodramatic thing to do.