Before Sara had time to answer, there was a shout from a male voice above. ‘What is it, Mum?’

The woman looked at Sara with her clipboard and retreated to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You come down, it’s a lady wanting something.’ Sara felt the excited flutter of the hunter closing on its potential prey.

She heard footsteps, then trainers and jeans appeared down the stairs followed by a tracksuit top and the face of a tall man a year or two either side of thirty. The age fitted.

‘Yes?’ His expression was sullen.

‘Hello, my name’s Sara Shah and I’m doing a survey of young Muslims’ views of different government agencies–’

‘Don’t have time for that,’ he interrupted.

She tried to engage him, her eyes enlarged with pleading. ‘I know, I understand,’ she said, ‘but I’ve been walking up and down these streets all morning. There’s no one who’s in or will give me the time of day. If I don’t do my numbers, I don’t get paid.’

‘You won’t get paid?’ He looked at her more closely, seeing the attractive face within the cotton surround.

‘Yes, it’s piecework.’ She held up the questionnaires. ‘No completed forms, no money.’

‘Can’t you make it up?’

‘They’ll find out. I’ll be sacked.’ He looked her up and down, his shoulders slumping, face peering up and down the street. Her chest tightened, cramped by his wavering. ‘Please, I’m getting desperate. Won’t take long.’

He hesitated. ‘Nah, don’t fancy it, to be honest.’ She thought she had him but he wasn’t shifting. He made to close the door. She had to play her last card.

‘Wait a minute,’ she said, keeping one foot over the threshold. ‘There’s a budget I’m allowed to use.’

Suspicion and interest competed in his eyes. He looked up and down the street. ‘A budget?’

‘Yes, I can offer you something. To help me reach my target.’

‘What something?’

She took a purse out of her bag. ‘A hundred. It’ll only be a few minutes.’ He was wavering; she crossed the fingers of her other hand.

‘Nah. Not worth it.’

‘Hundred and fifty?’

He eyed her closely. Until now, she hadn’t decided how far she’d go. ‘Nah.’

She couldn’t lose him now. One final throw. ‘I’m not really allowed to do this. Two hundred.’

His frown slowly turned to a smirk of victory. ‘Go on then, come in.’

Sara made a mental note. There was something venal about Samir Mohammed.

He signalled to the front room. ‘You wanna sit in there?’ He disappeared into the kitchen. She overheard him telling his mother that it was something about a survey and his mother asking if the lady wanted a cup of tea. ‘Yeah, she looks like she needs it.’