I lay there with my eyes closed trying not to think about being legless, or the man falling over at the off-licence. But what if he couldn’t get up? What could he do with only one leg? I tried to keep away from thinking about him and get to sleep. But he knew where I lived. I told myself not to dream and pulled the covers tight. He might get Busola first. If he got in the room there was Manus, Connor was snoring. I hadn’t told them about him. I only told them about the ambulance, the woman with yellow eyes, the police car smoking up in the tunnel before they came out and got me. I told them about the policeman in charge saying they were going to clear everything out the tunnel. But I left out about the man sobbing on the back seat beside me, the other policeman punching him and slapping me, the feeling when the red blotches came that he was going to kill me – or that it was the man with the leg missing who stopped it by being there. I cut the man out and kept him to myself. I kept looking at the dark marbles where his eyes should be, the muddy flap of his trouser leg, the way it was too late when I tried to reach him and say sorry. I could see the red of his skin, the black grit inside it, the dirty cracks in his fingernails. There was the mouldy smell, the streaks of tears, the long sobs echoing in the tunnel, all the reasons I should be scared, but instead I was feeling empty. I didn’t help him. Then another thing came back to me, the taste in my mouth of liquorice, sticking to my teeth and dribbling on to my tongue as I went past the off-licence and didn’t stop. I took a deep breath and shuddered, as though he was inside me and I’d swallowed him whole.

Penny for the Guy

‘Penny for the Guy?’

It was me who asked – Connor was coming up behind – I was going up to anyone who passed to get their money first.

‘Penny for the Guy, mister?’

‘What Guy?’

I looked over my shoulder, and there wasn’t one. There was Connor, and past him the bus stop where we’d got money off people. They weren’t there any more, the bus had come and they’d all gone. It was a long way back from there to the corner before you could see round to where it was.

‘Round the corner,’ I said, but the man shook his head. He had thick glasses and a look on his face like he didn’t believe me.

‘If you haven’t got a Guy –’ he spoke quietly so I had to lean in to catch what he was saying, ‘that’s begging. Begging and lying.’

I was stung.