I duck down beside him, sheltering behind a row of metal barrels. Peering through the midnight gloom, I can just make out a van. Two burly men are pushing a group of huddled men and women into the back. ‘These are the vans that drive them to mushroom caves,’ Will whispers. ‘And this happens every night?’ I take my reporter’s notebook from my pocket. It’s an imaginary notebook of course. In the real world. I’m dunking spag-bol-stained plates into washing-up water. But, in my head, I’m helping Will expose a dangerous gang of human traffickers. ‘Every night.’ Will slides a mini video cam out of his pocket. ‘I’ve been staking this place out for a week. It’s the same story. Those men herd the immigrants on to a bus, drive them to the mushroom caves for a night’s harvesting, then bring them back at dawn.’ I grab a saucepan and plunge it into the warm soapy water.
What do You think about Signs Of Love: Stupid Cupid?
