David couldn't take his eyes off the scared but determined little face.
'Don't move,' the boy said, stepping backwards out of the doorway. The gun pointing straight at David's chest he yelled. 'Gran'ma. Gran'ma. She's a bit deaf,' he explained. The dog snarled. 'Stay, Sam.'
'Listen, mate ...'
'I'm not your mate. Gran'maaa.'
'I've got to call you something. What's your name?'
The lad was trembling. 'Why do you want to know?'
'What advantage would it give me if I did? Mine's Michael.' He tried smiling.
'How do I know that's your real name?'
'You don't. And in fact it isn't. You don't have to tell me your real one either, if you don't want to. But while we're talking to each other it would be nice to be able to call you something other than mate or kid.'
'It's Luke.' The gun drooped and with an effort he brought it level.
'Okay, Lu ...'
'Gran'maaa.'
'I can hear you. What are you doing down there? Matthew! What are you doing with a gun?!'