‘Calm down,’ I said to Aiden. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

He didn’t say anything.

We arrived at the end of Albert Street and the park was laid out before us across the road. There was a slightly strange stone arch in cream, maroon and pale blue and I could make out an inscription across it that read Richard Hellyer Memorial Entrance. The park itself was lush, though the grass obviously hadn’t been cut in a long time. There’d been a number of storms recently and everywhere was green. Everywhere was also quiet. No traffic and, as far as I could see, no people in the park itself. My pulse steadied and I thought that maybe we should return now. I could mention the strangely named entrance as evidence I’d been and simply tell Charlotte that there were no mangoes. I’d shrug, apologise. Hey, no big deal. I tried, you know? But the quietness of the place made me want to at least set foot in the park. Just a small walk and then we’d go back. This was an adventure and I never had adventures.

Aiden held my hand as we crossed the road and this time I let him. We stopped in front of the entrance arch and I wondered what it was doing there. I mean, it wasn’t an entrance as such. There was no fence or railings around the park, so you could just walk in anywhere you wanted. I couldn’t see the point of it. Anyway, we walked through regardless – it seemed rude not to, since someone had obviously gone to the trouble of building it. We stopped just inside the park. The concrete path beneath our feet was cracked, with tufts of grass and weeds spreading across it, like nature was fighting to take it back.

It wasn’t a great park, as parks go. No waterfalls, like I’d seen on videos, but I guess that wasn’t surprising. No useful markers telling you the Latin names of the trees. Just grass and a few huge trees that I was pretty sure were Moreton Bay figs – I recognised them from when I lived in Queensland. No mango trees, that’s for sure, though I supposed I couldn’t know for certain unless I explored the entire place and I wasn’t going to do that. I was on the point of telling Aiden that we should go back when I heard a noise behind us. We spun around.

A girl. She must have been sitting against the entrance post and we’d walked right past her. Now she got to her feet and I understood the noise that had brought her to our attention. She had a canister in her right hand and she was shaking it, twisting her wrist as if to mix the contents. She stood, legs splayed, shaking the can and staring at us. Aiden stepped in front of me. She didn’t seem like much of a threat, but Aiden never takes chances.

She was dirty, this girl. Her face had faint streaks of grime, especially under her eyes, which were such a bright green they seemed to pin you to the spot. Her legs were dirty as well, though the fluorescent yellow Nike trainers she wore were spotless. Shorts and a T-shirt, both ragged. She must have been around thirteen or fourteen; it was difficult to tell. Hair was cut short and uneven, like she’d done it herself without the help of a mirror. Her mouth was wide, nose a snub. But it was her eyes that held you. There was silence for ten or twelve beats.