In contrast, the interior of the park looks cool and mysterious. Laurie pulls me through the gates. It’s quieter here, the shadows of twilight fighting with the last gleams of the sun. The air is full of the scent of flowers and fresh-cut grass, and the paths, as we move farther into the park, are quiet, the park-goers having left to find their evening’s entertainment.

“Do you know why the park is called St James Park?” Laurie asks idly.

“For James the Second?”

He shakes his head and clicks his fingers for Endof to pay attention to him. He’s going to lose that battle, because the stupid dog is stalking an innocent poodle. “It was for the lepers’ hospital that used to be here.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

He taps his nose. “I research, Mags. You should try it one day.”

I groan. “Ack, I live for a day where I don’t have to open a file.” I start in surprise as he moves closer and takes my hand. “What are you doing?”

He leans closer. “I’m going to lead you to the lake and drown you.”

“I think that might be preferable to holding hands,” I say faintly.

“Relax.” He rolls his eyes. “I just want to look at your palm.”

“You are a peculiar person, Laurie. Why would you want to do that?”

“You have a very long lifeline,” he says, turning over my hand and tracing the line on my palm with one long finger.

I shiver. “It goes with my lengthy penis,” I inform him.

He laughs, and I’m almost disappointed when he drops my hand. “I read an article about it today, and as you’re the biggest character around here, I wanted to see your palm.”

“I’ll show it to you later when I wrap it around your cock,” I say, smiling and nodding to the two old ladies who pass us on the path. Laurie is lagging behind. I look back at him to find that his face is bright red and his eyes are full of laughter. “Are you alright?” I ask.

“Fine.” He comes alongside me and walks with me again. “You’re very unapologetically yourself,” he says. “You don’t make concessions for anything. Have you always been like that?”

I consider his question and nod. “Yes.”

“I can’t imagine that went down well.”

When I raise my eyebrows, he elaborates. “We both grew up at relatively the same time. I’m a few years younger than you, but I don’t remember the eighties as being particularly brilliant for gay people.”

“It wasn’t. Not in this country anyway.”

“When did you know you were gay?”

“When I was about thirteen. How about you?”

“The same. That’s the age you were when you were sent over here, wasn’t it?”