He watched Jimmy unlock the bedroom and the man with the briefcase walked inside. A couple of minutes later Jimmy came out and went to the kitchenette. Owen watched him carry through a bottle of pills and a glass of whisky. Owen could hear the little boy’s cries through the door and put his hands over his ears.

He wished more than ever that his mum was here. She would know what to do.

She would sort out Jimmy.

She would take him home.

Owen realised that his video had ended and the television screen was blank. He stared at it, trying to hold back the tears. If they were going to do to the little boy what Jimmy had done to him, he would be in a lot of pain.

Owen felt sick again.

Then there came another knock on the door. This time it was loud and aggressive and Owen was convinced that it was the bigger boys that Jimmy had been talking about. He felt himself hunch into the settee.

Jimmy came out of the bedroom and called out: ‘All right, all right, I’m coming. About bleeding time and all.’

He opened the door and Owen was amazed when he tried to slam it shut immediately, pushing on it with all his might. Then whoever was outside got the better of him because the door was pushed open so hard that Jimmy went sprawling on the floor and the door banged against the wall loudly.

Four large men were standing over him and one of them, a dark man in a light brown overcoat, kicked him hard in the kidneys. Then he faced the boy.

‘You’re Owen, aren’t you?’

He nodded.

‘I’m here because your mum’s been worried out of her head, son. Now you come with me and I’ll take you home. OK?’

Owen stood up on trembling legs. He was trying hard to pull the pyjama jacket down so it would cover his naked genitals. He saw the man in the brown overcoat frown.

‘Where’s your kacks, son? Go and put them on. We’ll wait here for you, all right?’

Owen nodded and went to the bedroom he had been using with Joseph and Jimmy. He began to pull his clothes on as quick as possible, glad of the unfamiliar feel. He went back into the lounge and pulled on his bumpers. Jimmy was still on the floor and one of the men, a large shaven-headed character with gaps in his teeth, was grinning at him. He was holding a large screwdriver to Jimmy’s throat.

‘Tell them that I never hurt you, son. Tell them that, will you?’

Jimmy’s voice was frightened and then Owen remembered the boy in the bedroom. It was very quiet in there now. Too quiet.

‘Hey, Mister. There’s another boy in there.’ He pointed to the door. ‘He’s only a little mite. There’s a man in there with him.’