He scrambled into the back, barking his shins on the tailboard, and shone the light around the stacked boxes of car parts. Overlaying the heavy smell of new plastic was the stronger, acidic stench of human bodies and bodily waste. His stomach churned and he wondered how to get rid of the aroma by the time he reached the depot.

A tunnel had been created through the middle of the cargo, and he bent and peered through the gap, probing the darkness with the light beam. At the far end lay a jumble of screw-top bottles and a pile of browned banana skins where his human cargo had kept their hunger at bay during the long journey from the south. It was probably all they’d been given since scrambling off the boat in the Med. He crawled along the narrow opening, scooping up the debris as he went. The bottles were filled with a brownish liquid, and his nose recoiled at the smell of ammonia sloshing about on the floor. Bloody pigs… they were meant to take all their crap with them. God knows what else he’d find Then he saw the sandals.

They were pointing up, scuffed and dirty, clumsy with thick rubber soles, the leather stained. They were at the end of a pair of cheap, green, cotton trousers, grubby and creased with wear.

‘ Yalla!’ he shouted, banging on the floor. ‘Come on, get up!’ He reached out and tugged at one of the feet, flicking the light along the legs for a better view. The words stalled in his throat. He knew instantly by the stillness and the stains around the seat that it was no good. The man wearing them had ended his journey.

Maurat’s stomach heaved at the noxious smell in the enclosed space and what lay here.