62

Their hands were clasped tightly around their knives. They did not run. The siblings were standing back to back, as though they were seeing whether Conor was finally taller than his sister. He wasn’t. They stood on smooth concrete looking out into the encroaching dark. They couldn’t see the walls, though they knew they were out there. There had to be walls, because there was a ceiling. With a single dim green bulb flickering above their heads. Conor realised that he had assumed that the neighbours deep would be even more of a shit-hole than his home. But there was nothing in it. They walked away from the green light. Slowly, side-by-side now. Ella made sure to walk one half-pace ahead of her brother. As the light behind them was fading to leave them in near pitch black, another green light flickered on ahead of them. They passed this way for some time. Conor counted eleven lights before Ella stopped.

“Give me your wallet,” she said.

“What? Why?” Conor was baffled. She just stared at him and held her hand out. He reached and grabbed his small Billabong zip wallet that he kept his coins in. Ella had bought it for him in Cornwall. She reached in, grabbed a 50p and hurled it as far as she could out in front of her, she managed to light five lamps on the ceiling as she did. She threw a 2p next and got another four lamps in the distance to the right of them. Conor wanted a go. Grabbed a 20p and got just two. Blamed it on the size and weight of the coin, but didn’t throw any more. A minute later Ella had lit up perhaps thirty lights all around them. Then Ella launched a £2 coin which skittered along the ground, it looked almost like skimming a stone on a lake. It ran right on until a wall was illuminated. The coin continued running until it slid right beneath an old wooden door. That triggered a great deal of commotion in the next room. Conor closed his eyes and winced as he heard the scratching of nails and thuds against the doors and wall in the distance.

“In there, I guess,” said Ella.