I shivered and pinched my canvas jacket closer around the neck, which didn’t help much. The air now had a vicious nip to it and the stone-grey sky was heavy with imminent rain. In Casterbourne, the poor weather days still carried their own beauty; silvery sea and gunmetal smudges of cloud suddenly parting to showcase bright blue patches of promise.

Here, though, the slate sky seemed to touch the tops of the faded redbrick buildings; an oppressive blanket that only highlighted the grimness and poverty below.

I got out my phone again to check if Anya had responded, even though I had the volume on its highest setting and would have heard if she had. As I put it back into my pocket, I noticed a boy of about ten, of Somalian heritage perhaps, staring at me.

He was holding onto a bike that looked far too small for him and wearing trainers that, conversely, were far too big.

‘Hey, fam, you got an iPhone X?’ he said in a reedy little voice. My lips tweaked with amusement, despite my gloomy state.

I waggled my phone at him. ‘Nah, mate,’ I said, ‘only a regular old 6, sorry.’

He looked genuinely crestfallen and I wondered what had made him think I was the sort of high roller who’d have an eight-hundred-pound phone. I didn’t look like a drug dealer. Maybe I just looked like I didn’t belong here. This was an odd, confusing thought.

‘I got an iPhone X,’ he said, but his eyes shifted as he spoke. I’d been around enough small children to recognize baseless swagger when I saw it, but I kept my face impassive.

‘Wow,’ I said, ‘you sound like a player.’ He jabbed a suspicious look at me, then a slight flush of pleasure darkened his cheeks. I suddenly felt the need to keep the conversation going.

‘I used to live here, a long time ago.’

I had an urge to tell him that, once, this place had been the start and end of my world, and that I hadn’t felt any hope of escaping it. But I did, and I wanted to tell him that he would too. But how could I possibly promise that?

He didn’t look much interested, anyway, and began to pick his nose, eyes darting around as though searching for a better source of conversation.

‘Where you at now then, fam?’ he said, after a moment.

‘I live by the seaside,’ I said. ‘In Kent.’ This information was met without much comprehension, as though I’d said I lived in Antarctica, or Jupiter.

The boy kicked down on the bike pedal then and cycled away without another word, my company evidently not coming up to scratch. I was oddly disappointed to see him go.