cross before them, then said, ‘Come on!’ They ran across the road. ‘Let me have a look at your feet,’ Hema said when they were sitting on a bench. Janey put them on the bench, and Hema took her sandals off. In one of them, he found a small sharp stone, and saw that it had bruised his sister's heel. He rubbed it. ‘All better now,’ he said. ‘Yes, all better,’ Janey repeated. She put her sandals on again. For a while, they were silent and just watched the people walking past and the traffic zooming through the streets. Further along from them, on another seat, an old man sat, his head hunched between his legs. The ground was stained with his vomit and the broken glass of a beer flagon. A group of girls walked past him and giggled behind their hands. They giggled again, when they passed Hema and Janey. ‘I like your maxi coat,’ one of the girls said. The others laughed. Hema flushed. But he didn't care; his coat was a good one and kept him warm. And then he saw a policeman coming. ‘We better go now,’ he told Janey. Hurriedly, they stood up and began moving away. But the policeman didn't seem to worry about them. He went straight to the drunken man and began shaking him. Hema slowed his steps and his heart stopped beating so fast. He and Janey reached the bus stop outside the Royal Oak. Janey pulled at his sleeve and pointed to a bus, but he shook his head. ‘We haven't got enough money,’ he said. ‘I've got some!’ Janey answered. ‘You have?’ Hema said, astonished. Janey nodded vigorously. She reached into a pocket and showed him. ‘I'm not dumb!’ Nine cents … nine brown cents, were in her palm. ‘No, you're not dumb,’ Hema whispered to his sister. ‘But you better keep them for later, just in case, ay? It's not far to the railway station from here. Okay?’ Janey smiled, a brilliant, proud smile. She put the coins back in her pocket. ‘I'll bet you're glad now that I came along with you, ay Hema!’ she said. He nodded. ‘Now take my hand again,’ he said. ‘There's lots of people around, and I don't want you to get lost. If you lose my hand, you just stop where you are and don't move. I'll find you.” ‘Okay,’ Janey answered simply. ‘Come on, then,’ Hema said. Hema walked in front of his sister. Although he was quite tall, many of the people couldn't see him and buffeted against him. But he didn't mind; as long as he felt his sister's hand in his, everything was all right. ‘Hand on!’ he said, as they joined the stream of people crossing the intersection at Cuba Street. And he pushed through the people dragging his sister behind him. Janey clung tightly to him, and her fingernails dug into his arm. Along Manners Street they went, and it was much easier there and in Willis Street. But then they came to another intersection, and a thick crowd was waiting to cross. ‘Hold tight,’ Hema whispered again. Janey looked up at him and nodded. She was a little frightened. Couldn't these people see her down here? Then the lights changed, and the tide of people began to move. From the four corners of the crossing they came, merging in the middle, jostling, shoving, pushing their ways across the road. And the heavy weight of a man crossing Hema's path slammed him to one side, wrenching Janey's hand away from his. ‘Janey!’ he yelled. He looked back and glimpsed her face in the rushing crowd. He tried to get back to her, yelling ‘Janey!’, but the crowd pushed and shoved him to the pavement. Frantically, he clawed his way through the melee. ‘Let me through! Let me through!’ And he saw the stragglers dashing across the road, the lights changing, the cars beginning to move. And Janey, she was standing there, alone, in the middle of the road. ‘JANEY!’ She heard him calling and looked at him, her eyes full of trust. And he rushed out from the pavement, and put his arms tightly round her. He heard horns blaring and honk-