The drunks, immune to the freezing temperatures of the morning, watched from their bench as she ran past them several times that hour. ‘You should be running this way, blondie,’ one called, while shaping his hands in a V towards his crotch on her last lap. They all laughed and she ran faster. She could always go faster and with time ticking she needed to get home before Dad came out for her. She cut onto the grass, slipped and fell awkwardly. It hurt straight away. Her ponytail caught the side of her face as she turned to check if the drunks were still laughing at her, but they hadn’t even noticed her fall. The dew began to seep through her leggings and she tried to stand, but buckled immediately with the pain.

‘Hey,’ someone called. ‘You okay?’ A tall man came running towards her and put out a gloved hand. ‘You really went down hard there.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Here, let me help you.’

As he helped her to a bench she tried to concentrate on the hole in his glove to stop herself from blushing.

‘You really do run out here in all weathers, don’t you?’ he asked.

‘Sorry?’

‘I live up in Nightingale Point. I always see you out here.’

He had seen her before. How had she never seen him? She tried not to stare, or lean into his arms too much.

Tristan Roberts came over too. He was from her school, one of those loud, obnoxious boys everyone seemed to know.

‘Oh, shit, did you break your leg?’

‘No, she ain’t broken her leg. This is my brother.’

They looked nothing alike.

‘Ain’t you cold?’ Tristan pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie tighter. ‘Running round out here? That’s long.’

She could see Dad coming across the field now, his face red from fatigue and panic.

‘I’m fine, really. Thanks. I need to get home.’ She tried to rise but the pain shot through and she winced. He grabbed her again; the pain was almost worth it.

‘Get off her. Pam.’ Dad was closer. ‘Pam, Pam.’ He pushed past Tristan and put his hands either side of her face. ‘I knew I should have been watching you. What happened?’

‘She’s all right, man, she just tripped, innit,’ Tristan said.

‘Who are you? Why are you two even near my girl?’

‘Dad, stop it. Tristan goes to my school.’

Tristan looked confused. He obviously didn’t recognise her. It confirmed she had no presence at her new school; she was nobody.

‘I’m Malachi. We live in the same block. We were making sure she was all right. That’s all.’

‘Well, she’s fine ’cause I’m here now, ain’t I?’ Dad snapped. ‘Come on. Let’s get you home.’ His grip on her arm was tighter than it needed to be. She could see Malachi noticed it too.