‘It was bad. We stayed there for a few days, eating our food and rationing the water we had. And Andy got worse and worse. The wound was infected and he went very pale and, like, blotchy. Feverish. All sweating and shaking. He said he probably had blood poisoning. He knew all about that sort of thing. He was smart. Said if he didn’t have antibiotics he’d die. I didn’t have any antibiotics, did I? But I knew where the nearest chemist’s was. An uncle of mine used to run it. I didn’t want to go back out on the streets, though. Not after seeing what it was like out there. I made excuses. Said I needed to make sure it was safe. Just scared really.

‘I spent ages at the window, peering out through Mum’s net curtains. Waiting until I was sure it was quiet. Trying to man up enough to do it. Andy was getting worse and worse. I couldn’t leave it any longer, so, armed just with the spade, I set off. Leaving Henry behind to look after Andy. Not that he was much use, sitting there asking, “Where’s Mary? When’s she coming? Will I have my proper tea today …?” But better than nothing, I guess.

‘Amazingly I made it to the chemist’s and back without seeing anyone else. I even managed to get in and find what I thought looked like antibiotics. It was hard to tell as all the pills and medicines had brand names, and I was in and out fast, dashing about like crazy, not wanting to be there any longer than I had to. Anyway, I was pretty sure I had the right thing, and I was thinking I was some kind of bloody hero, but when I got back Andy was dead. Lying there, screwed up on the sofa. Henry sitting next to him.

‘“Where’s Mary? When’s she coming?”

‘I went to hit him. I screamed at him and he stared at me. I sat down, said she’d be there soon, and he was happy.

‘And I had to bury another body.

‘So now it was just me and Henry. A weird life we had there; couldn’t really talk to him about anything much. Andy had been good to talk to. He was funny and clever, even if he did talk weird, his mouth not working properly. Henry was different. He was damaged in the brain. No matter. I didn’t really want to talk. I was shattered. Done down by it all. Still recovering from my own wounds. Why I hadn’t ended up like Andy I had no idea.

‘Good luck, or bad luck maybe, you tell me …