The woman came back with two girls. It was hard to tell their ages. They both had bags under their eyes and bad teeth but one was definitely younger and slighter and he knew, in an academic kind of way, that she was pretty, or had been once.

Before he had a chance to do or say anything, Jack had disappeared with the older one, and not knowing what else to do, Peter followed the girl, his head thick with the drink.

She sat on the edge of the bed and patted it. ‘Come and sit here then.’ But he stayed by the door.

‘Can I please have a drink?’

‘Course we can,’ she said, and with a little sigh that made her seem much older, she got up and filled a glass with more of the same treacly liquid from a bottle on a sideboard. He gulped it down and got himself another one.

He slumped on the bed. The room was decked in pathetic bits of red and gold cloth, to make it seem exotic.

‘Nice, ain’t it?’

He regarded her blankly.

‘You seem nice,’ she said, more out of a sense of duty than truth. ‘Come on, it’s all right.’

From another part of the building came laughter. He thought of Jack. His wide mouth and long throat and the freckles on his nose. Jack’s impossibly white, naked body. Something touched his leg and he flinched.

He didn’t look at her. ‘I can’t,’ he said. He felt her bristle next to him and waited for the mockery.

‘You’re one of them, ain’t you? It’s all right. I knew right off when I saw you.’

God, how did she know?

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ she said, and, mutely, he accepted a cigarette from her. ‘You want another drink?’

He nodded, drank one down and another. He had no idea what time it was. The room dimmed into a duller, darker red.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, staggering to his feet.

A hand snatched at his shirt sleeve, but he shook it off. He was aware that the girl had fallen back on the bed but he couldn’t connect it with himself. He needed to find Jack. Out in the hallway it was dark. He stumbled down it towards where he thought Jack had gone. In one doorway, two girls leered at him with cold eyes. In another, an empty bed. The young girl’s voice came calling, ‘He went that way.’

Then a door opened. Jack appeared in shadow. He wanted to throw himself at him. He took hold of Jack’s shoulders. ‘Where were you?’

‘Right here, Pete, right here.’

‘Did you – did you—’ He had an urge to know. Jack’s face was a pale blur. He made himself focus on the silver scar cutting across the freckles.

‘Pete,’ said Jack’s voice, ‘Pete. I could be dead tomorrow. This is life.’