‘But Holloway was a women’s prison,’ said Jeremy, frowning. ‘He couldn’t possibly have been there.’

‘Sorry, you’re right,’ said Achilles, shaking his head. ‘Not Holloway. I meant Belmarsh.’

‘I thought Belmarsh was used for terror suspects? It’s Category-A, as far as I know.’

Achilles stared at him, wishing he had a toothbrush with him right at that moment.

‘Wormwood Scrubs,’ he said definitively. ‘That’s where he was.’

‘Ah.’

‘I don’t like to think about it, to be honest.’

‘Apparently not.’

‘Anyway, as I say, the tortoise went back a few generations in my family. They can live up to about 150 years, you know.’

‘Really? I had an aunt who lived to 104.’

‘Not quite the same, though, Jeremy, is it?’ said Achilles. ‘Thirty-six years’ difference there.’

‘Forty-six,’ said Jeremy.

‘Either way, the tortoise died. That’s my point. So if I seem a bit down, you’ll know why.’

‘You must be very upset.’

‘I am, yeah.’

‘What was his name?’

‘The tortoise or my dad?’

‘The tortoise.’

Achilles opened his mouth to say the name of Ustym Karmaliuk, but he really didn’t have the energy to get into a lengthy conversation about that so he decided to make things a bit simpler.

‘Tommy,’ he said.

‘Tommy?’

‘Yes, Tommy. Tommy the Tortoise.’

‘And how did he die, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘He overdosed on After Eights. They’re not good for tortoises. You don’t have one, do you?’

‘An After Eight?’

‘No, a tortoise.’

‘Oh. No. I have a cockapoo, but I never give her chocolate. Or mints. Although her breath can be terrible. So perhaps I should.’

‘Jeremy, haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?’ asked Achilles, raising his voice now. ‘Don’t give that cockapoo none of that crap. Or you’ll end up suffering like I’m suffering. It’s not right, man! It’s not right!’

Jeremy reached across and tapped his hand against Achilles’ on the table. The boy looked at it and smiled inside. He’d known all along that the moment would come sooner or later. ‘I can see how distraught you are,’ said Jeremy. ‘I wonder, is there anything I can do to help?’

You’re going to suggest some stress relief, aren’t you? thought Achilles. Back at yours. With my pants around my ankles.

Achilles shook his head. ‘I couldn’t ask you to,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. You’ve been so good to me already.’

‘But I’d like to. I would.’

‘Is there anything you’d like to suggest?’

Jeremy blinked and thought about it. ‘Nothing springs to mind,’ he said. ‘But if you can think of something, then—’

‘No,’ said Achilles. ‘No, I couldn’t do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Ask you for five thousand pounds.’

Jeremy sat back in his seat now and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Did you say five thousand pounds?’

‘Yes, that’s what it will cost.’

‘What what will cost?’

Achilles sighed and wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. ‘See, the thing is,’ he said, ‘my family is originally from New Zealand.’