Titch is sitting at a small table by the window in the café by the bridge. Her mouth is a bright red circle round bright white teeth. And she isn’t alone. Rose doesn’t ask why they’re here. This is a dream. In dreams you don’t ask.

‘You remember Archie, don’t you?’

Rose does. Archie sits hunched beside Titch. His dark hair curls slightly. His jaw is square. His eyes are deep and strange and she stares at them until he blinks and looks away. You can stare in dreams. She remembers the taste of his kiss, like coke and aftershave.

‘You’re seventeen, aren’t you, Rose?’

His voice is reedy and southern. She nods.

‘You seemed older.’

She says nothing.

‘I’ve been talking to Titch. You saw my post, didn’t you?’

She remembers his fingers. His lips.

‘I have to say, it wasn’t until I checked the photos properly that I realised what I was seeing.’

He leans forward. His hair curls over his forehead with a perfect twist. She remembers why she wanted to touch him. He is beautiful.

In her dream, she almost reaches out.

‘You just have that thing.’ He turns to Titch. ‘That vulnerability. Don’t you think?’

Titch nods enthusiastically. Rose drops her hand to her lap again.

‘And the way it took off. Did you see the reach of it?’ His teeth shine, his eyes shine. ‘Everyone was sharing it. People sat up and took notice. The image, but it’s also the story – who’s that girl? They loved it.’

Titch is practically bouncing with excitement. ‘And when they know who you are – where you came from!’ She claps her hands.

‘I think we can sign you straight away,’ says Archie. ‘Some pictures, a few posts. We can make something big out of this.’

‘Pictures?’

‘First a portfolio. Some nice clothes. Post them on Instagram. Then we’ll try and book some adverts.’

Rose has known this café for years. Caz used to bring her here. She remembers the day Mrs Jackson took her into the office because she was wearing the wrong shoes, and gave her biscuits. How she asked what Rose had eaten that morning, and what she’d eaten the night before. How Caz came for her, and for Aaron. She remembers the house. Graeme. The space. Sitting in bed, listening to Graeme read stories.

When Caz explained what was happening, Rose didn’t react. Looking back, she has no idea what she was thinking. All of those things they had wanted suddenly became real, and all of the things they already had dissolved. She remembers the shower, water running down her face, soap in her hands. The new smell of them. Her and Aaron, they smelt different. They smelt of the new place, and the old one vanished.

‘This is big,’ says Titch. She reaches for Rose’s hand. ‘You can have it – everything you want.’ She smiles.