I wonder whether this glitch could possibly allow me to pause time, write some ‘Kevin’ ID and then start it again, but of course it doesn’t.

I pretend to fumble through my bag. I take out the Club biscuits, the book I haven’t read, my Discman, my switched-off phone.

‘This will do.’ The woman takes the phone out of my hand before I can stop her.

She switches it on, with Lara saying, ‘You can’t do that!’ and looks at the screen. Then she turns back to me with a half-smile.

‘If you’re not Joe Simpson,’ she says, ‘then why do you have his phone? And why do you look like him?’

I sigh. ‘Do I have to go home?’ I say.

‘Your parents are extremely worried,’ she says. ‘We’re going to drive you to Devon.’

‘How about me?’ says Lara. ‘I kidnapped him. You should arrest me. Put me in the cells!’

‘Yes.’ I realize what she’s doing. ‘She did. She kidnapped me on the way to school and made me pretend to be Kevin. She’s mad and dangerous. You should definitely lock her up until … at least lunchtime.’

‘Or even just half past eleven,’ says Lara.

They don’t bother to reply.

Paddington station is clattery. Its roof is glass, and very high up, and there are lots and lots of people. There are, in fact, many more people than I ever see during my regular day in Devon, and they’re different people, more interesting ones. These are not the thousand mainly white Devon teens who populate my usual day.

I follow the police across the station concourse, looking around at everything, dragging my feet and going as slowly as I can. I listen to the sounds of the trains, the clanking, the hum of voices, the beeping of the buggies that carry people and luggage around. I love every bit of it. I’m aware of Lara walking behind us, and when I turn to look at her she grins at me. She points to her eyes with two fingers of her right hand and then to herself.

I realize what she means: she wants me to see what happens to her.

The police car is at the bottom of the sloping bit that leads up to the main road outside, which I realize is the place Lara mentioned, the last place she goes. Soon she stops being able to remember what happens and that means she’s about to die. People are standing around, smoking, and further up there’s a row of taxis. I take a long time getting into the car, fussing with my bag, stopping to tie my remaining shoelace, and Lara walks past. She gives me a look. I make her eyes gesture back at her. When I have to get into the car, I shift across so I’m on the right side, and watch as we drive slowly up towards the road.