It occurred to Abs that it was at this time of night when Deano was killed, and he told himself off for even thinking about it. But it was no wonder he was spooked by events, and Jez’s dark mood, his mate’s seeming intention to confess, played on his mind. For all Abs knew, Jez could be at a police station at this very moment, spilling the truth about that disastrous weekend in Wales.

The crash of a bin startled Abs and he spun to see a fox leap across the street, the red mirrors of its eyes regarding him reproachfully. He considered going back to the club to blag a lift, because right now he was totally freaking himself out. But then he recognized the street he was on – it wasn’t too far from the bus station – and picked up his pace. Moments later he sensed a car keeping pace with him on the road.

‘Mate,’ someone called. ‘Oi, mate.’

Abs adjusted the cap and hurried on. He just wanted to get back to his apartment and lock the door, but he was unable to resist glancing over to the car. He saw there were three fellas in it; the two in the front were hidden in shadow, but the one in the back had wound down the window to poke his head out.

Abs couldn’t help but reply, an instinctive reaction: ‘How you doing?’

‘Is it you?’ said the man in the back. ‘You’re that bloke off the telly called, whatsit, Pecs.’

‘Abs,’ he replied, but didn’t slow his pace.

‘It is you.’ The man in the car laughed. ‘My girl loves you, she’s always going on about you, it’s all Abs this and Abs that. I can’t compete, mate.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Abs, walking quickly.

‘Come on, Abs, help me out. I’m going to get it in the neck if I say I’ve seen you and I don’t come home with an autograph.’

Abs didn’t slow. ‘Sorry, mate, I’m in a hurry.’

‘Do me a favour.’ The guy waved a pen and paper out of the window. ‘Or my head is going to be in a noose.’

‘Sorry.’ Abs didn’t like the way the car kept pace with him, or the fact that he couldn’t see who was in the front. But it was also true that he could do with some money to get home. Maybe he’d be able to get the guy to pay for an autograph, even enough for a cab home. So he stopped walking, and the car slowed to a stop.

‘Mate.’ Abs walked to the window, where the man grinned up at him. ‘It’s late and I just want to get home, but I’ve no cash on me, so if you want an autograph I’m going to have to ask you for a tenner.’