I almost go with him, out of habit, out of a lack of care, or a taste for danger, or some equally thick reason, but Brian’s face is looming large and he’s shaking his head at me. I could call him, of course. He’d sort me out. Which is worse? Not which is better, but which is worse? A girl’d want to be a complete gobshite to fall for that, and then to see, and then to fall for it again, and then to see, and then … I may be an adrenaline junkie, but I have my limits. This guy is making me queasy. That knocking sensation hits me deep in the guts. This is the same feeling I’d get lying in bed at night listening to Mother’s footsteps climbing the stairs towards my room.

‘Thank you for your time,’ I say, ‘but I’ve changed my mind.’

He laughs. ‘Probably don’t have a clue what you’re thinking. Teenage girls are like that.’

I nod, thinking how best to withdraw from this situation. ‘That woman you think is my mother … I don’t think so,’ I say. ‘My mother is dead.’

He stares hard at me. ‘Funny little thing.’

He might as well just pat me on the head while he’s at it. Anyway. ‘I’ll see you around …’ Come on, legs, don’t fail me now. One foot in front of the other. Can’t be that hard.

‘Aw now. You came to me for a good reason. You know I can help … I’m well connected.’

‘I’ve decided to go home. Thanks for the advice.’ And then my muscles are pumping me away from him, legs and heart, propelling me as fast as I can go.

‘Anytime … you know that. You know where I am …’ his voice chases me down the road. ‘You’ve no idea how bad it can get out there for a girl like you.’ He sounds like he’s salivating as he considers this. ‘No clue.’

I run like a maniac, going over on my ankle in the platform sandals. It burns, but I sprint on anyway. I slow down as I get to the convent walls. Should I go in and ask for help? Should I find Luce? Doc O’D? The Guards? Should I go back to school? As soon as these thoughts cross my mind I know it’s impossible. I’d be sent back to that house and that woman. And I’m not able any more, Dad. It’s over. I place my hand inside my pocket and finger the piece of paper with the woman’s number on it. I take out my new pay-as-you-go yoke, and fully galvanised by my little chat with myself, I dial.

*