‘Afghan gold,’ said Chris, and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Are you not drinking, Nina?’
   ‘She’s waiting for someone to buy her a drink,’ said Tony.
   ‘I’m not!’ said Nina eagerly, ‘I’ve got money, I’ll buy you a drink.’
   ‘We don’t want her going up to the bar,’ said Maggie quietly.
Nina took one of the pound notes out of her bag, and pushed it across to Tony.
   ‘What do you want, then?’ he asked her.
She couldn’t think of a drink in the world that she wanted to put into her mouth. She stared at the walls for inspiration. They was a metal plaque with Stone’s Ginger Wine embossed on it in curling letters.
   ‘I’ll have a glass of ginger wine.’
   ‘Don’t waste your money, it’s not even alcoholic,’ advised Chris.
Tony shrugged. ‘It’s her money,’ he said.
   ‘You have a drink too, Tony,’ said Nina hastily, ‘and Maggie and Chris - and everybody.’ She had forgotten the others’ names.
Tony took the order for the table, and went to the bar.
   ‘You don’t want to go buying drinks for everyone,’ said Maggie, ‘It’s not as if you’re earning.’
   ‘It’s all right,’ said Nina, but already her mind was making quick, panicky scampers. If each of them had a pint of beer, that would be ten shillings, and then her own drink too. She didn’t know how much ginger wine cost. Maggie would only have a lemonade or something like that. Perhaps it would be all right. She could get by for a week on a pound, as long as she ate as much as possible at school dinners. She would have two bottles of milk at break.
        Maybe Mal would ask her to Sunday dinner at his place. She’d been there once before. His mum served up the roast and then they all took their plates through to the lounge so they could watch a film while they ate. Mal’s mum put her feet up on a leather pouffe which was seamed with deep cracks. Sometimes she made a comment about the film, and Mal’s thin dark face eased into a smile. Nina kept very quiet, on the sofa next to Mal.
   ‘Here’s your ginger wine,’ said Tony, and put down the glass in front of her on the table. It was full up and had an oily wobbling surface. ‘First time I’ve ever asked for that.’
He had carried four pints to the table first, balancing them carefully, frowning when Maggie moved to help him. Then there was a small glass of tonic water for Maggie, who never drank alcohol.
        Nina waited for Tony to reach into his pocket for the change, but nothing happened. She stared down at the surface of her drink. Her ears hummed. With a flourish, Tony produced a bag of crisps and dropped it in front of Nina.
   ‘Little Nina,’ he said.
Maggie eyed him, but said nothing. Tony smiled, as if he was waiting for something. Nina sipped from the top of her drink. After a minute Tony said, ‘It’s Peter Stuyvesant you smoke, isn’t it, Nina?’

2

  

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