It was dusk when I met this lady at the bus-stop on Rye Lane in Peckham. ‘Goodnight,’ she called to a young guy hurrying by. Then, she turned to me and said, ‘I’m his mummy. I’m mummy to them all.’ ‘All?’ I said. ‘One hundred and eight four of them.’ ‘One hundred and eight four?’ ‘Yes,’ she said 184 Afghan boys.’ She showed me her hand. ‘And they look after me!’ She flashed a gold ring. These ‘boys’ run stalls and shops in Peckham… a long way from home and mummy.
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