I couldn’t stop thinking about Trigger and Jukkie. That madness with the woman and her babies had been playing on my mind all weekend – and then there was Lightning. We’d all gone to see him in hospital on Sunday morning and he was proper bruck-up, his eyes swollen shut, one side of his face dark with bruises. His arm was in a sling and his leg was bandaged up. Dem man didn’t even care that he was just a little kid, a younger who didn’t know any better. They bruck him up, same way. His mum went mad when she saw us at the hospital. We all went, even Tony. It wouldn’t have been right otherwise. Tony looked different, though, with less bling and a different look in his eyes. I could tell that his time with the ‘brothers’ at the mosque was having an effect on him. “What are you doing here?” Lightning’s mum shouted, proper loud so that all the patients and nurses turned to look at us. “I’m so sorry, Mrs Appiah,”
