‘Don’t leave,’ I said urgently, close to Ben’s ear. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you left.’

This was how I felt. This was the truth.

‘I have to.’ He kept his eyes forward as we were swallowed by the darkness of the wood. ‘This place…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s so fucking messed up.’

‘I know!’ I said. ‘I know it is, but you’re the only good thing in it. You and… You and… this…’ I took the flat of his hand and placed it against my abdomen. He turned in the mud of the path to look me in the eyes. I nodded.

‘Oh, god,’ he said. ‘Oh, shit.’

This wasn’t upset, nor delight, certainly fear.

‘But didn’t you… Weren’t you…’

I shook my head, not understanding.

‘Oh, shit,’ he said again. ‘Shit!’ But sounding lighter now, astonished.

Something complicit passed between us – oh, look what we have done!

We turned to the interloper in our private moment.

Saul Cooper had stopped, frozen, a few paces behind us, his eyes cast low, horrified by the sight of Ben’s hand resting against me. Ben sent him a stare that told him he wasn’t welcome. I was cruel.

‘Go away, Saul,’ I said. ‘Go away. This has nothing to do with you.’

He looked at me beseechingly, desperately, and I couldn’t bear it.

‘Just fuck off, Saul!’ I said. That word had never left my mouth before; I’d saved it to wound Saul Cooper. ‘Just fuck off and leave us alone.’

Ben pulled me in to his chest and I watched Saul stagger backwards, looking about him dizzily, as if others might be witnessing his humiliation. The radio at his belt coughed, making excuses on his behalf. He didn’t take the path back to the stones but blundered into the thick of the trees instead. I should have called after him, made sure he was all right, but I was selfish.

‘I can’t bring up a child here,’ I told Ben as we stood there alone in the dark. ‘When you leave on the thirteenth, will you take me with you?’

Lent 2018

LENT 2018

The headteacher was locked out of his own school, the most senior pupils carrying wooden batons to enforce the revolt. This happened every mid-Lent Monday.

The weapons this year were in the hands of Britta Sayers, Anna Duchamp and Jade-Marie Ahearn. They beat them against the doorframes to keep a rhythm to the chant.

Out you go, and stay you out,

We’re claiming back the day,

Say yes to fun, and in you’ll come,

Oh, master – whaddya say?