‘You don’t,’ Nick said, skimming through the file and closing it with a snap of finality. ‘Hopeless. Save your talent for something worthwhile.’

‘He probably won’t even get to court,’ Elsbeth said morosely. ‘I’ll spend days on this and then he’ll skip bail.’

Which was exactly what must have happened. Nick had seen him in his pre-court briefing. Len had been dragged into chambers by his social worker and, like Elsbeth, Nick had thought the kid’s chances of making court were somewhere between zero and none. Len had looked surly, defiant and fearless.

Which was just the look he gave Nick now. The youth stared at him for a long minute-enough to recognise Nick as surely as Nick recognised him-and then he swore. He threw the fuel hose aside so it snaked away still spurting petrol, he leaped into the Mercedes he was driving-that had to be stolen-and he spun out of the petrol station leaving a trail of burned rubber behind him.

‘Harry, don’t you want to hear about the pirates?’ Before she returned to reading, Shanni tried one more time to attract Harry’s attention. Harry was three years old-almost four-like the rest of her class-but Harry was different. Abused and battered, he’d only just joined the kindergarten after being moved from an uncaring family situation into one of the five homes that made up the local orphanage.

‘You don’t need to take him on if you don’t think you can cope,’ Shanni had been told by the welfare authorities. But of course she’d taken him. How could she not? Harry was enough to wrench the most hardened of hearts.

Harry’s leg was recovering now from a break which had been poorly tended in the past. It had needed resetting, and because the healing was taking so long it was bound in a fibreglass cast with an inbuilt heel. The whole structure seemed much too heavy for such a little body.