is elusive. It is simply time to go, she says. I agree to hand over a few hundred when we arrive at the house, no sooner. Fay seems happy with that. I knock on their van in the morning and there is no answer. The door is unlatched, so perhaps they've gone for a walk. I enter and discover the reason for our sudden desertion of this place. There was a fire last night. Christ knows what started it, but it was surely close to fatal. There is a black hole in the lino about the size of a small truck tyre. The ceiling directly above is black. The stove is covered in something melted and charred. This wasn't supposed to happen. I also notice that everything they have is gone, and for a moment I believe they've already done the scram. Seconds later, Fay and Stevie enter the van to find me reviewing the damage. ‘Oh,’ stutters Fay, ‘we had a bit of an accident last night. We've seen the manager about it and he's fine.’ I enquire as to when we are leaving. ‘Well,’ she squirms, looking at Stevie for help, ‘we're leaving now, aren't we Stephen?’ Stevie nods and says nothing. He is fumbling childishly with some piece of plastic. ‘We're already packed and everything and we don't want to wait.’ She writes the address on the lip of a cigarette packet. ‘You can follow us when you're ready.’
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