A straw hat was jammed onto his head to keep the midday sun off. Two mangy kittens burrowed into the blanket tossed over his paralysed legs.
'Anne's father,' Miss Morgensen said when they reached the front door. 'Used to be a railway shunter. Hit by a train. That's all that's left. Anne's mother took off with another man about six months after the accident.' They climbed to the second floor and Miss Morgensen rapped her knuckles on the door.
There was a shuffle of feet inside the flat but no answer. Emmanuel manoeuvred closer to the wall and out of sight.
'Sister Anne?' Miss Morgensen said. 'I won't take more than a minute of your time.' The door creaked open and a young white woman's angular face appeared in the gap.
Her stubby nose was dusted with freckles and her thick brown hair was cropped close to her skull; in the wrong light she could easily be mistaken for a boy.
Red cold sores cracked the corners of her mouth. Miss Morgensen's 'holy temple' blessing this morning had not erased the reality of life in the shadow of the port.
