Anselm rounded the corner, back into Holmleigh Road. The verdict lay upon his mind, pressing down like a migraine. By a low wall a cluster of young Hasidic Jews, bearded men in black suits and wide hats, stood talking animatedly; inside a house, Anselm glimpsed a number of women gesticulating.
Passing quickly round them, not wanting to hear their conversation, Anselm moved on towards Victor’s home, further up the road.
As he approached the gate through which he had passed only a short while before, Anselm heard a voice from behind:
‘Excuse me, Father, but could you spare a word…’