I nodded. Mum and Dad named me after Cab Calloway, a singer who had died before I was born. I had seen loads of pictures of him – he was always smiling and wearing crazy baggy suits with two-tone shoes. We didn’t have much in common.

“What an excellent name!” Toby said. “Well, do come in …”

Inside, I counted eight other volunteers. Mum went off to chat to them. I was the only kid.

“Come with me, Cal,” Toby said. “I’ll show you the ropes – you can give Martin a hand.”

He took me over to a big wall of shelves. On the floor were boxes of tins.

“Sort box by box,” the guy called Martin told me. “Look, each shelf is split into sections. If you could stack the cans in the right place …”

“No problem,” I said, and I put my bag down.

“We don’t have many young volunteers,” Toby told me. “It’s great to see you here.”

Over the next hour, I helped sort tins of fruit, vegetables, soup – all sorts. A few dented cans wobbled as I stacked them. Then, I dropped some spaghetti hoops. A woman in a sky blue headscarf helped me to tidy up.

“Oops!” she teased.

As I worked, the hall got more and more busy. I looked up to see where Mum was, and that’s when I spotted Jacob over by the doors. I stepped back, and prayed he hadn’t clocked me. His face was bright red and he looked annoyed.

Then he yelled, “NO, MUM!!!” at the woman next to him – and everyone turned his way.

Toby went over, but Jacob flared up at him too. Then he stormed out.

“Don’t worry,” Martin said. “That happens sometimes.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s horrible being poor,” Martin said and I saw that two of his front teeth were missing. “You start to feel ashamed, son. Like, people reckon you’re a scrounger.”

“But we’re not here to make people feel bad,” I said.

“I know,” Martin said. “But if you have to ask for help, it can hurt your pride. Make you feel useless.”

“You used to be poor?” I asked.

Martin laughed. “Still am, you daft lad,” he said. “But least I’m not homeless now.”

“Why the long face?” Mum asked a few minutes later as she offered me and Martin a cup of tea. “What’s up?”

“The boy who just stormed off,” I said. “He’s the new lad at school.”

“Really?” Mum said. Then she strode over to Jacob’s mum.

“Oi, lazybones!” Martin said, and he nudged me with a bony elbow. “Come on, these shelves won’t stack themselves.”

*

“It’s adult stuff,” Mum said at home when I asked her what she’d said to Jacob’s mum.

“Did you mention me?” I asked. I was worried Jacob would find out.

“Course not,” Mum said. “I was just checking she was OK.”

So perhaps Jacob didn’t know that I’d seen him. I relaxed.

“What’s the big deal?” Mum asked.