Silence. Just the four of them staring at my white scalp showing through thinning black hair.

Elton was the first to speak. ‘No, man . . .’ He stood from his chair, dark eyes glistening. ‘This ain’t right.’

‘Cancer?’ Simon, quiet, not looking up.

‘Not while I’m in charge.’ Against all expectations, Elton came round the table in three strides and literally dragged me out of my seat into a hug. I hadn’t been hugged by a boy before. Or a girl, come to think of it. Just Mother on rare occasions, and my two grandmothers at Christmases. I stood there, not knowing what to do with my arms, jaw locked tight against any outburst of emotion.

‘Shit.’ John realised he should say something, his face in motion as if unable to find the right expression. ‘I . . . Well . . . Shit!’ He thumped the table hard enough to make the dice dance and the figures fall over. ‘They’re going to make you better, though, right?’

‘Sure.’ I eased myself from Elton’s embrace. ‘We live in an age of miracles, don’t we? I’ve got a computer in my bedroom! Well . . . a Commodore 64 . . .’ I realised I was babbling. ‘I, uh. I gotta go.’

I started to stuff my papers and books into my bag. Nothing wanted to fit, everything at awkward angles. ‘You OK, Si?’

Simon kept his gaze on the table, brow twisted in furious concentration like when he totally disagreed with one of the game master’s rulings and was building up the head of steam required for him to object.

‘Si?’ He was chewing his cheek. Always a bad sign. ‘Earth to Simon?’ I reached for his shoulder.

‘Cancer?’ He launched himself to his feet, scattering two chairs. ‘Cancer!’ A shout that had footsteps running up the stairs. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Red-faced and furious. I’d only seen him like it once, years back when we teased him past breaking point on some small thing. Although he was short, Simon was almost as wide as he was tall, and when he barrelled at you there was no stopping him. ‘You’re ruining everything!’ Tears now, glistening on scarlet cheeks. I couldn’t blame him. A large part of me wanted to shout and cry and throw things about, too. But if I broke that dam open and let those emotions flow, I had no idea how I could close it again. Instead, I rammed the last few things into my bag.

‘What’s going on?’ Simon’s mum in the doorway, an apron on, hands still soapy from the dishes.

‘I’ve got to go.’ I snatched my bag and squeezed past her, everyone talking at once. ‘Sorry.’

‘Nick? Nicko!’

I made it down the stairs despite nearly tripping over Baggage and ending my dramatic exit in Accident and Emergency. A moment later I was out in the street, running.

I always felt I should be good at running. Skinny. Long legs. But no. Whatever plumbing of heart and lungs is needed for the long-distance runner . . . well, I have the other sort. Two blocks from Simon’s house, I was doubled up, leaning on a gate post, gasping for breath. A cough, and suddenly the gasping turned into retching, and I was splattering the pavement with a mixture of chocolate digestives and orange juice.

I clung to the gate, lines of drool hanging from my open mouth, deep in misery. I couldn’t blame Simon. He wasn’t wired like regular people, and it went beyond the pocket calculator in his head. He couldn’t deal with change. Even good change was bad. And bad change . . . well, that could make him lose it.

‘Jesus, Hayes! The fuck you doin’?’

It seemed so far beyond reasonable that Michael Devis should happen upon me in that moment that I ignored the voice and kept my head down.

‘That’s disgusting. Messing up the street.’

I wiped my mouth, continuing to ignore him.

‘Heard you bumped into Ian Rust the other day. Chucked your shit in the gutter.’

I straightened up, trembling, though whether from fear, anger, or puking I couldn’t tell.

‘I should empty your crap on that lot.’ Devis nodded to the glistening mess at my feet. He was just starting to reach for the sports bag on my shoulder when someone came past me. A dark figure. And, in the same motion, swung a fist right into Devis’s mouth. A real haymaker punch.

Devis staggered back clutching his face, then fell on his arse. He groaned and his hands came away scarlet from his mouth. The newcomer loomed over him. My first thought had been that Elton had caught up with us, but it was the bald guy.

‘You better run, because I enjoyed that and want to do it again.’ He kicked Devis’s outstretched foot. ‘Scram!’

Devis got to his feet, clutching his face again, half-dazed. The man took a quick step forward and Devis turned to run.

‘You’re a fucking nutter.’ He got to the corner. ‘I’ll have the police on you, you bastard!’

The man made to run after him and Devis took off.

‘Wow, that felt good!’ The man turned back to me. ‘I’ve been waiting twenty-five years to do that.’ He shook his hand. ‘Hurt like fuck, though!’

I stood for a moment, mouth open, finding no words. He was tall, a couple of inches taller than me, six two, six three maybe. Not properly old. Forty perhaps. Something about him looked disturbingly familiar.

‘Who . . . ? Why . . . ?’ I felt dizzy. The times I’d seen the man before all tried to crowd in on me at once. At the hospital, the park, the window. I reached for the wall, needing support. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Why?’ He flexed his hand, winced, then grinned. ‘To gain your trust, of course.’

CHAPTER 5

‘He what?’

‘Punched Michael Devis square in the mouth.’

‘No way?’ John stood up from the end of my bed as if the idea was too much to take sitting down. ‘I saw him today in school. The side of his face is all purple.’

‘Good. He deserves it.’

‘Still . . .’ John sat down again. I winced. ‘The guy’s bat-shit crazy, right?’

‘Off the scale.’ I pushed a stray sweater over the pile of quantum mechanics books on my bedside table.

‘Well, if you’re going to have a stalker, then that’s the type to have: A Devis-thumping one.’ John shook his head and looked around my room. The bed took half the space. John’s bedroom was the size of a barn and filled with cool stuff. He had a Viking battle-axe on his wall, and a Syrian helm with a chainmail coif on a stand. ‘You coming back to school this week?’

‘Maybe on Friday.’ I shrugged.

‘Did he look crazy? I mean close up. Twitchy?’

‘Uh. Not really.’ He’d looked like my father. It wasn’t him. There were enough differences for that to be clear even if the funeral didn’t settle the matter. But he had looked enough like him to be a secret uncle I’d never been told about.

‘What did he say?’

‘Crazy stuff. Weird things.’ He told me that we would speak again in a week. He’d said something about needing time for the echoes to settle before we could talk properly. I’d been hurting and disoriented, so I couldn’t remember everything. He told me his name, though: Demus.

‘I’m Demus, you’re Nick.’ The bald guy had raised a hand to ward off questions. ‘I know everything . . . We’ll talk next week when you’re ready to listen. Until then, why not stay off school and do your homework?’

‘Homework?’ I’d echoed stupidly.

‘Bone up on quantum mechanics. Particularly Everett’s many-world interpretation. You can get the books at the Imperial College library. Speak to Professor James in the maths department. Show him that thing with knots in n-space topologies. He’ll like that.’

‘How do you—’

‘I know everything. I just told you that. Tell Mother you’re sick and can’t go to school. It’s not like she can argue with that.’ He’d reached out to press a piece of folded paper into my hand. ‘And memorise these numbers. That’s the most important part.’

‘Uh?’ I looked at the white square in my palm.

‘When the time comes, make a show of it. You need to get the others on board.’ And with that he had hurried off back the way he came. I’d taken a few steps after him, but another bout of nausea brought me to my knees, and when it let me go Demus was gone.

‘Nick?’ John snapped his fingers in front of my face.

‘W . . . what?’

‘Spaced out on me there, buddy.’

‘Sorry. Just tired, I guess.’ I’d been up late, reading.

‘Yeah.’ John stood again. ‘Look, I better go. Don’t want to wear you out. I already had the lecture from your mum!’ He picked up his school briefcase. ‘Mia was asking about you, you know?’