Sergei’s eyes are trained on mine as he walks towards us, and I look away, hoping Linford hasn’t noticed.

‘Yo, Immi.’ Linford assumes a boxer’s stance. ‘You coming back for more, then?’

Sergei gets closer and then changes direction at the last second.

‘Find another way to cross the courtyard, you mug,’ Jack spits. ‘We like breathing fresh, clean air over here.’

‘I think that this is a free country,’ Sergei says quietly, but carries on walking without looking at Jack. ‘So I am allowed to walk in any place I choose.’

Why is it so hard for him to keep his big mouth shut?

Jack lunges at his rucksack but Sergei shrugs him off and spins round.

‘Oh dear, the benefit-scrounger’s got the monk on.’ Harry laughs as Jack stumbles.

‘My mother works every day,’ Sergei replies coolly. ‘So you can relax. We are not claiming any of the benefits you worry about so much.’

‘She’s taking someone else’s job, you mean,’ Linford says softly and takes a step forward. ‘Someone’s job who was born in this country and has earned the right to work here.’

At the start of the year, Linford told us his stepdad had been made redundant from his job at the building company where he had worked for over twenty years. Linford said that Eastern Europeans had taken all the building jobs because they were happy to work for peanuts.

But now Linford is saying all the Eastern Europeans are lazy and claiming benefits. I’m not sure which one is right, but I know it can’t be both. Linford doesn’t really seem to know either, and I suddenly wonder where he’s getting all this information from. He’s like a parrot, blindly repeating stuff that makes no sense to him or anyone else.

I think about his stepdad’s angry face and how he’d seemed quite drunk when I saw him. Sometimes, I suppose, it’s easier to blame other people for your problems than accept you might be making a mess of your own life.

Sergei’s eyes dart over to mine but what can I do? I’ve warned him to stay away from us but he refuses to listen.

‘Jack saw you on our estate last night,’ Linford continues. ‘What business you got there, you dirty scrounger? Don’t tell me they’ve given you lot a free council flat now.’

Sergei looks at the floor.

‘You might as well tell us,’ Harry hisses. ‘We’ll find out anyway and then you’ll get a brick through your window.’

They all snigger, but Sergei doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks directly at me.

‘What you always staring at Cal for?’ Jack scowls. ‘You fancy him or summat?’

He nudges me and grins, inviting me to join in with what Linford has always called our ‘banter’. Except it doesn’t feel like I’m included in the banter today; more like I’m on the receiving end of something more sinister . . . with Sergei.

Suddenly it doesn’t seem nearly as light-hearted.

‘I asked you a question, Immi,’ Linford growls. ‘Have you got a flat on our estate now, or what?’

Sergei looks at me one final time, his eyes pleading with me to say something, to help him out. He needs me to tell Linford the truth.

My worst nightmare is here. This is my last chance to make up a lie or a story. Otherwise, the awful truth will come out and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I open my mouth. And close it again.

I can’t think of anything I can possibly say that will help the awfulness of Linford’s reaction when he finds out I’ve been lying to him about Sergei and his mum living with us.

Linford grabs the limp lapels of Sergei’s blazer.

‘I am living on St Matthias Road,’ Sergei says, pulling away.

‘That’s your road, isn’t it, Cal?’ Jack frowns.

They all turn to look at me. Something sparks in Linford’s eyes, like he’s finally putting pieces of information together.

‘That’s why Immi is always staring at you,’ Linford says slowly. ‘Cos you’re neighbours.’

‘Not exactly,’ I mutter. My school shirt is sticking to my damp armpits.

‘There’s only one St Matthias Road in St Ann’s.’ Harry frowns. ‘It’s got to be the same one you live on, Cal, so you would’ve seen him. You’re lying, Immi.’

‘He’s not my neighbour.’ I say the words quickly before my voices cracks and betrays me.

My insides are tangled into such a tight mess, it feels like they’ll never straighten back out again.

‘So, Immi is lying through his teeth then.’ Linford moves fast and within a couple of seconds, he has Sergei by his scrawny neck and his right fist snaps back ready to strike. ‘Last chance. Where do you live, you stinking little—’

‘Wait!’ I jump up. ‘He’s not lying.’

Linford’s grip loosens slightly, enough for Sergei to take in a few gulps of air.

Four pairs of eyes are trained on me. Waiting for the truth.

Waiting for me to tell them what I know.

A pulsing starts up in my throat as if my heart has broken loose and has slid up from my chest.

I try my best to swallow the words back, but in the end I have no choice but to face whatever is coming. I’m just going to have to say it.

‘It’s our flat,’ I say, and slump back down to sit on the wall. ‘Sergei lives with us.’