Already fearful, Sammy now lived in a state of constant alarm. However irrational it may have been, he was bitter at Scar for abandoning him. People always let you down. He would never let himself get close to anyone ever again. Never, ever, ever.

Sammy turned off Ingram Street down the lane between the High Court Annexe and the Ingram Hotel. He would search the bins before checking out which of his regular haunts were vacant and had bed space available.

The man who knocked him onto his back neither stopped nor apologised. A second man hurrying up the lane tripped over one of Sammy’s carrier bags and landed heavily on the now prostrate Sammy. He got to his feet and made to kick this piece of garbage. Before he could do so, his companion instructed him, in no uncertain terms, to get a move on.

‘Mick bastard,’ thought Sammy as he struggled up off the ground. His bags had spilled out some of their precious contents which he hurriedly scraped back inside. As he walked, he could sense no serious damage. A few more bumps and bruises were neither here nor there. For a moment Sammy thought of heading straight to his bed. However, knowing his luck, there would be good stuff in the hotel’s bin, and he would miss out. This was an error of judgement he would swiftly grow to regret.

The first of the bins bore Sammy no fruit. Lifting the second lid, his spirits soared. Some might have said ‘Eureka’. Sammy settled for ‘fucking magic.’ On cursory examination, the leather jacket he had pulled out seemed to be a beauty. It was undoubtedly nearly new and had some form of quilted lining. That this would be a warm garment never entered his head. He would sell the jacket to one of the boys at Paddy’s Market. This jacket was money. It never occurred to him to ask himself why such a quality article had been dumped in a bin. Life’s rare blessings were to be accepted without hesitation or reservation. In any event, finders keepers, losers greeters.

Actually, it was a pity he could not keep it. It fitted him rather well. But such a garment would only get him mugged and Sammy could do without that, thank you very much.

Having carefully folded the jacket and placed it into a carrier bag, Sammy again dug in to the bin and rummaged around to see what else he could find. The Gods were smiling on him. There was certainly something there.

‘Shit.’ Sammy swiftly pulled his hand out of the bin. It was wet and sticky. He walked over to a street lamp, but the yellow light only confirmed the presence of a damp and tacky substance.