Sighing, he’d climbed out and rolled his sleeves up, leisurely about it. As he’d peered in through the windscreen at her, smirking with the pleasure of some private thought, she’d marvelled at the sight of him, how handsome he’d become. There’d been a fraction of their mother in his attitude and something of their father in the lollop of his fringe across his brow. If he’d been anybody else at all except her own blood kin, she would’ve clouted him right in the mouth for saying what he’d said. But it was nothing that she hadn’t thought about herself. There wasn’t too much difference between doing one man’s bidding for the money or a hundred’s, by her judgement. She might not have been a proper brass, but she was only one bad twist of fate away.

While Charlie had undone the bonnet lid and lifted it, she’d sat there having visions of her doom. Her heart had nested in her throat. Her palms had glossed. Her lips had parched. He’d stooped to tinker with the motor. When he’d come back up, his fingertips were dark with muck. ‘All right. Let me have a try,’ he’d said, and pushed his fringe back with his wrist. ‘Budge over.’

‘Nah, your feet won’t reach the pedals. Have you fixed it?’

‘Probably.’ He’d shut the bonnet, tightened up the grips. Standing on the driver’s side, he’d said again, ‘Go on. Budge over and we’ll see.’

‘Fine.’ She’d climbed across into the empty seat.

Dropping in behind the wheel, he’d said, ‘How often does he let you drive this?’

‘Why’s it matter?’

‘Tell me.’ He’d wiped down his fingers on his trouser legs before he’d touched the panel.

‘I dunno. A few times every month, depending.’

‘Enough to know by now, then.’

‘What?’

‘Well. Do you see a lever for the choke? I don’t.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘The starting carb’s electric. If you’re running it from cold like this, it’s bound to give you gyp.’ He’d turned the key. ‘You hear that rumble? It’s the fuel pump, letting fuel into the chambers. The starting carb is wired to the panel lamps, so you’ll need to switch those on. And then you push the starter.’ With one press, the engine had fired up for him and revved. ‘You see? Now, when it settles down a bit, shut off the starting carb. And you can twist the throttle over here, look, so the idle speed goes up. Some days, it’ll start right off the bat, no trouble whatsoever, so you must’ve had some luck the last few times you drove it.’

‘Yeah, that must be it.’ She’d gazed at the dark shapes ahead of her: rooftops laced with bowing wires, the undercarriage of the clouds. ‘I’m such a clot.’ He hadn’t given a reply, but something had occurred to her as they’d changed seats again. ‘Hang on, why’d you get your hands all dirty, then?’

‘I moved the fanbelt round a bit. I thought I might as well put on a show for you.’