Matt hadn’t been born in Ipswich. He had been brought here and he hated everything about the place. For a start, it wasn’t a city. It was too small. But it had none of the charm of a village or a market town. It was really just an oversized shopping centre with the same shops and supermarkets that you saw everywhere else. You could swim in the Crown Pools or you could see movies at the multiplex – or, if you could afford it, there was an artificial ski slope and go-karting. But that was about it. It didn’t even have a decent football team.

Matt had just three pounds in his pocket, saved up from his newspaper round. There was another twenty pounds at home, hidden in a box under his bed. He needed money for the same reason as every other teenager in Ipswich. It wasn’t just because his trainers were falling apart and the games on his XBox were six months out of date. Money was power. Money was independence. He didn’t have any and he was here tonight because he wanted some.

But already he was wishing he hadn’t come. It was wrong. It was stupid. Why had he ever agreed?

He glanced at his watch. Ten past six. They had arranged to meet at a quarter to. Well, that was excuse enough. He swung himself off the wall and headed across the station front. But he hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps before another, older boy appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path.

“You off then, Matt?” the boy asked.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Matt said.

“Oh yes? And why did you think that?”

Because you’re twenty-five minutes late. Because I’m cold. Because you’re about as reliable as a local bus. That was what Matt wanted to say. But the words didn’t come. He just shrugged.

The other boy smiled. His name was Kelvin and he was seventeen, tall and scrawny with fair hair, pale skin and acne. He was dressed expensively in designer jeans and a soft leather jacket. Even when he had been at school, Kelvin had always had the best gear.