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The end opens up into a garden area which has been reclaimed by weeds. Even the small caravan parked in the corner has surrendered to the plant life.
"This is Mama's home," Nico introduces, pulling the stiff door back on its hinges.
"Are you OK doing this now?" Yesterday he could hardly stand; I don’t want him overdoing it now. He shrugs and enters the van. I step inside, focusing on my expression so I don't show my repulsion.
It's as tidy as anyone can keep a run-down mouldy place like this. The front is made up as a bed, and there is a cooker with the door half off the hinges. The cup on the draining board is the cleanest thing in here. There are signs he cleans, with a rag, a toothbrush and an old debit card.
"I try keeping it clean, but I do not come here often enough."
"Well, I'm glad you don't live here."
"No. I live elsewhere."
"Elsewhere? Now there is a word for it." I can't hide my relief. "Is that what you call Gavriil's house."
"No. I call that Gavriil's house." Nico hands me an old metal tin. "That has all my things."
"Nico, where do you live? Where is Elsewhere?"
"It isn't much."
"I didn't grow up with much either," I sympathise with him.
"You may have come from little, but now you have lots. I come from nothing and still have nothing. Is less than nothing. I had use as speaker for Mum and Gavriil. Now is nothing."
"Now you have something. Me. And Knox."
"I ran from gas years ago, but not old enough to buy more so I live with none." Nico turns away from me.
"You ran out of gas?"
"Yes. Maybe only six month after my mum…" He turns away from me, but there is no need to feel embarrassed. I admire him for coping on his own at such a young age. I had so much in comparison, never any cause to really complain.
"That doesn’t matter now. Is there anything else you need?"
"Only a match. Only good thing we do is burn this down."
"I'll arrange a match."
Knox always said Gavriil was looking after him, and Nico says he goes there for showers and dinners, and sometimes when it is really cold, but he always sounds so happy about it. That is where our lives really differ. I had just enough of everything, but I was sad about it. Nico grew up with nothing but a caravan shell, and he lived a full and happy life.
"Come on then." Nico leaves the caravan and heads off into the trees. I follow him, absolutely dreading what I'll find.
"I always play games coming here. Leaving Mama home and come here like another world of adventure. The air is cleaner, and space is bigger." He jumps and bounces along a dirty track between the trees, over roots and fallen branches, under lopsided trees and bows.
"If we can scramble up that slope in twenty seconds, we'll see the rare unicorn." I play along with his child-like adventure. We both scramble up, he scales it effortlessly on his hands and feet, while I discover, to my disappointment, that pole dancing doesn't prepare me for this. Even bruised and with a broken arm, he is faster than me.
"I did see it," Nico grins from the top when I finally join him. "You are too slow. Maybe you practice more?"
This could be the olive branch I've been hoping for. My chance at earning his forgiveness.
"You do know what a unicorn is, don't you?" I grin.
"Oh. Totally," he smiles back. "Uni is mean one. Corn is the food like wheat."
"So, you saw one stick of corn?" I try not to laugh. "A unicorn is a mythical horse with a horn on its forehead."
"Then why it not called unihorn?"
