This was different. He didn’t know what to expect. There was no order to it. Things just growing everywhere. A mess. Confusing. He’d spent all his life in the streets around Holloway, apart from occasional trips down Oxford Street to look at the shops, and one disastrous holiday in Suffolk. He’d never forgotten that. He’d made a new friend at primary school, a boy called Charlie Piper, and when Mick was ten Charlie’s family had asked him if he wanted to go on holiday with them to their caravan park in the countryside. Mick hadn’t been sure, but his parents said he should go.

Worst week of his life.

All right, perhaps not as bad as the week when his mum got sick and killed his dad, but up until then it had been the worst, and he still felt wobbly when he thought about it. It had been wet and uncomfortable and there was mud everywhere. He’d been terrified of the noises at night, owls and foxes and probably wolves by the sound of it. And worst of all was the boredom. There’d been nothing to do. No TV, no games console, no shops to look at, no corners to hang out on. That was the worst thing about the countryside – no corners.

They’d had picnics on the beach in the rain and the sand had got in his food. They’d gone for walks in the woods and Mick had walked into a tree and poked his eye. He still had a little scar.

Yeah. It had been well bad. Mick had been bored and scared and had missed his mum and dad and his proper, normal food.

He’d stopped being friends with Charlie Piper after that. And it was the first and last time he’d been to the countryside.

Until today.

Although, now he thought about it, he could see they weren’t really in the country, just a big park. There were houses up ahead and streets. He chilled. They were getting back to civilization.

‘Are we still in London?’ he asked Blue, who was walking just ahead of him.

‘Dunno.’ Blue looked around. ‘It’s London airport, innit, Heathrow? And the tube goes there, so I suppose we’re in London. Or right on the edge.’

‘I wish we were back in Holloway.’

‘You homesick, big man?’

‘Yeah, a bit.’

‘That is moist, man. You’re our top fighter, Mick. Don’t want you wimping out on me.’

‘I ain’t wimping out, Blue. I’m just saying we was doing all right back in Holloway.’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no,’ said Blue. ‘Was getting harder and harder to find food. In some ways they got a good thing going down at the museum.’

‘We gonna stay there?’